The hall was quiet now.

Beyond the shattered walls, the roar of combat, the clash of steel, and the snarling snarls of wolves had subsided into quiet whispers. The majority of the pack had withdrew to lick their wounds and discuss the horror of the night in whispers. All that was left was the distant roar of the storm and the faint drop of blood on stone.

On the broken floor, Elaria sat cross-legged, her palms firmly pushed against Draven's side, her body pained but resistant. Thanks to the ...