The forest was alive, both natural and unnerving. Crickets chirped, leaves rustled, and the distant river whispered over rocks. Every step I took was careful, senses straining for anything out of place. Shadows stretched long in the moonlight, pockets of darkness moving with me.
I kept my backpack tight, boots silent on the damp earth. Every snap or rustle made my pulse quicken, but I forced calm. This was the path I’d chosen, leaving the pack, leaving Moonflare, to find answers about the Redwater Falls pack and its missing former alpha.
Ahead, the silhouette of the packhouse appeared, gutted and crumbling. Vines crawled over the frame, leaves littered the floor. I slowed instinctively.
Crouching behind a fallen beam, I peered inside. Movement, he was there, pacing, tense, senses on hig
