Three Alphas, One Luna
I greeted each Alpha with measured ceremony, bows low, words steady:
Alpha Mira of Stonepaw, whose clan had traded wolves and secrets with us. She offered a warm smile but held a hawk’s eye.
Alpha Gover of the Frostwood Covenant, whose wolves still blamed Crimson Moon for past territorial claims.
Alpha Sorin of Riverbend, younger but bold, eager to forge a new path.
Their presence sharpened the tension, alliances woven together, a fragile tapestry.
Inside the council hall, stone floors, torches flaring, maps laid across a long oaken table, I welcomed them: “Alpha Mira, Alpha Gover, Alpha Sorin, thank you for coming. We gather not to show might, but goodwill.”
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