Word spreads faster than fire through dry grass.
By the time we return from the border, the entire territory knows that multiple species knelt at the line and parted for me as if I were something sacred or dangerous or both, and the clearing in front of the packhouse is already thick with murmurs when Axel, Atticus, and I step into view.
Some wolves look at me with open awe.
Some look at me like I am an omen.
The elders arrive in a tight cluster, their robes brushing the ground as they approach with expressions carved from suspicion and fear.
“You summoned them,” one of them says without greeting.
“I did not summon anyone,” I reply evenly, though the hum in my chest answers the accusation with unsettling calm.
“They knelt,” another elder presses sharply. “Multiple species do not kne
