The territory did not sleep.
Even as night settled, even as fires burned low and wolves returned to their dens, something remained awake beneath the surface—an awareness that refused to dull. The land itself seemed to listen, tension threaded through root and stone alike.
Aurelia stood at the edge of the upper ridge, cloak drawn close, watching the lights below flicker and shift.
"They're reorganizing," Mira said quietly beside her.
"Yes," Aurelia replied. "Not by rank. By instinct."
Groups formed and dissolved in uneven patterns. Some wolves clustered tightly, drawn together by familiarity or fear. Others kept their distance, watching from shadows, measuring reactions before committing themselves to anything.
No one waited for instructions.
That was the difference.
"They don't know what to do with freedom," Mira said.
Aurelia's gaze remained fixed on the territory. "Neither did I, once."
