{Ryanna’s POV}

The howl that marked our return didn’t rise.

Too many throats were hoarse from mourning.

Nyra and I approached the pack slowly on horseback. What was once a quiet expanse of land had transformed, rows of tents stretched out like markings across the white of snow. Fires crackled low in shielded circles. Wolves moved in silence, some limping, others bandaged, all watching for shadows that hadn’t yet come but could strike at any moment.

The air of death was especially ...