The air in the council chamber felt thick enough to choke on. Hours had passed, and the maps spread across the oak table seemed only to highlight disagreements, not forge alliances. Alpha Damon stood near the window, staring out at the darkening woods, his back rigid. The scent of his impatience – sharp pine, an undercurrent of restless storm – was palpable.Alpha Marcus leaned heavily on the table, his face grim. "The eastern patrols require Stone River support, Damon. It's a shared border vulnerability."Damon turned slowly, his expression unyielding. "Support follows strategy, Marcus, not desperation. Your reports lack specifics. Your defenses..." He gestured vaguely, a dismissal that encompassed the entire room, "...need reinforcing before I commit my warriors."The tension snapped as the chamber door burst open. A young warrior, breathing heavily, his leathers stained with mud and something darker, stumbled in. He ignored protocol, addressing Marcus directly, his voice strained.
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