DYER.The den wakes the way it always does; in a slow, deliberate, and disciplined fashion. Fires are coaxed back to life, boots strike stone in a familiar rhythm, and patrols rotate while orders are given, received, and carried out. If not for the lingering tension under my skin, I might believe yesterday was any other day.

I do not.

The information the injured wolf brought sits heavy in my mind, unmoving, unyielding. Like a stone placed carefully on my chest. I can breathe beneath it. I can ...