The North and South crossed into Eastern territory as though they were ghosts. Their blood was suppressed, auras folded inward, and their heartbeats slowed by discipline and old magic.
Wolves moved in staggered lines through the lowlands, their boots pressing into ash-soft soil. They believed Cain had gone to the west, and the east would be a little hollow without him. At least they would have a chance to crush his territory without him here.
Alpha Darius of the North raised a fist, and the column halted. Bloodmoon Vanguard warriors froze instantly, their bodies trained to lock mid-motion without sound. South wolves followed a heartbeat later, their reaction slower, but just enough.
Ahead lay the Eastern stronghold's outer reach. They had expected torches, guards rotating every second, and, of course, other defence mechanisms, apart from the tall walls that surrounded every inch of the territory.
But they were met with uncomfortable silence.
