The forest is alive with silence.
Aria moves like a shadow, her silver wolf coiling within her, alert, ready. Each step is deliberate. Each breath controlled. The enemy territory sprawls ahead—a fortress of black stone, walls rising like jagged teeth into the moonlit sky.
She pauses at the treeline, studying patrols and torches. Every movement of the guards is noted. Every shift of shadow calculated.
Her wolf growls low. Danger is near.
She nods to herself.
“I can do this,” she whispers.
Aria slips past the first patrol, shadow merging with shadow, unseen and silent. Vines, stones, and trees aid her as she presses forward. The scent of her captured wolves guides her—faint, but unmistakable.
Every step brings her closer. Every heartbeat drives her determination.
Hours pass, the moon
