**Chapter Thirty-One**The coalition did not strike immediately.That, more than anything else, unsettled Rose.Violence she understood. Threats she understood. Even fear, sharp and choking as it was, made a kind of brutal sense. But waiting—watching—calculating? That was the language of predators who believed time itself was on their side.Stone Hollow existed in a state of strained motion. Nothing stopped, yet nothing moved freely. Wolves trained, gathered supplies, mapped hidden paths through the forest. Others sat together late into the night, speaking in murmurs, committing names and faces to memory in case tomorrow scattered them forever.Rose felt it all, a constant pressure at the edge of her awareness.The white wolf remained close, not restless, not urging action—just *present*.*They are measuring you,* she said.“I know,” Rose replied quietly.She stood near the creek, sleeves rolled to her
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