Easton
By the time we got back to the station, dusk had settled over Gold Pack like a heavy blanket. Normally, walking through those doors felt routine. It was paperwork, patrol schedules, complaints about barking dogs that weren’t actually dogs, and Braxton threatening to throw half the warriors behind a desk if they didn’t finish their reports.
Tonight, there wasn’t anything routine about it.
The briefing room was packed. Every available warrior had been called in, and nobody looked relaxed. The usual joking and sarcastic comments were gone, replaced by quiet conversations and grim expressions. They’d all heard enough pieces of what happened in the forest to understand one thing.
Someone had walked into our territory, challenged us, and walked right back out.
That didn’t happen.
No
