I found Erica that evening near the training grounds, sitting on a fallen log, her gaze fixed on the section of camp being hastily erected by Silverpine wolves. The sounds of unfamiliar voices and the sight of their banner—a pine tree against a silver field—made my own stomach clench with old ghosts. I sat beside her, the weight of the day settling between us.“You’re quiet,” I observed after a long moment.“They’re here,” she said, her voice flat. Not looking at me. “The pack that watched you suffer. That stood in that hall and did nothing while Leighton tortured you. That let him burn your mark.” She finally turned, her newly dulled eyes struggling to find mine. “I remember their faces. From my childhood. I remember them looking away.”“I know,” I said, the words heavy.“And you just… accepted them? Just like that?” The anger was there, simmering just under the surface. It wasn’t aimed at me. It was a clean, hot rage for the injustice, for the memory of my pain that lived in her, to
Last Updated : 2026-02-02 Read more