LANDON
The courtyard fills faster than I expect.
Not because I called for the full pack.
I did not.
Limited assembly.
Patrol leaders.
Mid rank warriors.
Senior logistics.
Healers.
A contained circle.
But word travels faster than containment.
By the time I step onto the low stone platform near the well, more wolves stand at the edges than I invited.
Fear pulls bodies closer.
The marked shoulder has already been seen.
The carved symbol already whispered.
Cheyenne stands slightly to my left, not beside me, not behind me.
Aligned.
Visible.
The bond hums steady.
Not hot.
Not fractured.
Steady.
Good.
I do not raise my voice when I begin.
“Effective immediately,” I say evenly, “no council interference in tactical decisions.”
The words land clean.
Not shouted.
Not framed
