Shadows of Peace

The Dawn Pack had returned to the heart of the Silver Claw territory, gathering in the clearing outside the packhouse, a sacred space now bathed in the golden light of a late afternoon sun, its warm rays filtering through the ancient yews that ringed the area, their gnarled branches heavy with dark berries, casting dappled shadows across the ground, the moss and clover carpet soft underfoot, releasing a faint, earthy scent that mingled with the sweet fragrance of blooming moonflowers, their pale petals glowing softly, unfurling in the fading light. The packhouse itself stood as a steadfast sentinel, its weathered cedar walls and river-stone foundation gleaming in the sunlight, the slanted roof draped in moss and vines, the carved crescent moon above the oak door catching the light in its silver inlay, a symbol of unity and eternity. A bonfire crackled at the clearing’s center, its flames a warm amber, sending sparks dancing into the air, the smoky scent of burning pine blending with t