Eternal Flame

The Silver Claw territory lay steeped in the velvet hush of night, a full moon rising high, its silver radiance flooding the Dawn Pack packhouse clearing, casting a luminous sheen over every blade of grass and lupine petal. The packhouse stood as a steadfast haven, its cedar logs aglow, ivy weaving over beams like a lover’s embrace, leaves shimmering with moonlight, reflecting flecks of stardust. The clearing was a tapestry of renewal—new benches circled a roaring firepit, their crescent carvings polished, glowing faintly under torches staked in fresh earth. Lupines bloomed in defiant clusters, their purple and white petals swaying, sweet musk blending with pine sap, the savory aroma of roasted hare drifting from a spit, and the faint tang of mulled wine warming in clay mugs. Towering pines encircled the scene, their boughs whispering softly, needles catching moonbeams, singing of battles won, bonds sealed. The creek’s gurgle wove through the night, its waters a mirror for the moon, r