The wind carried something wrong.
I felt it before I saw it. That prickle at the base of my skull. The way my wolf went still inside me, listening.
Darius noticed too. His hand found mine as we stood on the eastern wall, watching the tree line. Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to.
Three days since the battle. Three days of rebuilding. Of counting losses. Of pretending we weren't both running on fumes.
"Scout incoming," Caleb called from below.
The wolf shifted back to human form at the base of the wall, chest heaving. Marcus. One of our fastest runners.
"Report," I said.
"Movement. Western perimeter." He gulped air. "Not random. Coordinated. At least two packs. Maybe three."
My stomach dropped.
"How far out?" Darius asked.
"Six hours. Maybe less if they push hard."
I looked at Darius. His jaw was tight. We both knew what this meant.
Gideon wasn't done.
"Get Celeste," I told Caleb. "Full defensive positions. Everyone."
