If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that wolves kneeling in perfect silent formation meant nothing good. Nothing at all. Especially not when they were kneeling for me.
The awakened wolves remained at the border, not moving forward, not moving back, not even blinking. Their chests rose in the same rhythm, like one giant creature breathing through many bodies. Their shadows blended together in the dirt as the sun dipped lower.
And the psychic link in my skull refused to shut up.
Every few seconds, another pulse hit me. A soft thrum, then another, then another. Not painful. Not sharp. Just persistent. Like fingers tapping the inside of my skull, waiting for me to answer a question I did not want to hear.
I stood between Jack and Beau as the border warriors formed a wide peri
