The Spring Equinox Festival arrived three weeks later, and Silver Fang Pack had never seen anything like it.
The compound was transformed. Lanterns hung from every tree, casting warm gold light across the courtyard. Long tables were laden with food — roasted game, fresh bread, honeyed fruit, the ceremonial wines that came out only for the most important celebrations. Wolves from every allied pack in the Northwest had arrived — the Mountain Ridge Pack, the River Bend wolves, the Northern Pines, the Coastal Guard. They filled the festival grounds like a living sea of fur and formal dress, and the air crackled with an energy that went beyond excitement into something approaching prophecy.
Because word had spread.
In the three weeks since the battle, the story of Arvella Cordova had travele
