The next morning, the packhouse was quiet. The sky outside was pale and cold, the first hint of winter in the air. Most of the pack was still asleep, but I couldn’t rest. I had barely closed my eyes all night.
Every time I did, I saw the silver ring in my mind — and my mother’s cold eyes behind it.
Arlo had promised to start tracing it as soon as the sun came up, and I was waiting in the war room before he even arrived. The long table was clean again, the map spread out neatly across the surface. The faint scent of herbs and metal hung in the air from the energy tools Arlo used.
Asher walked in a few minutes later, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “You’re up early considering how quickly you passed out last night.” He said softly.
I gave him a tired smile. “Same to you.”
He shrugged. “Cou
