Chapter Forty Four:
The silence of the werewolf territory was absolute, save for the rhythmic breathing of the warriors stationed at the perimeter. Inside her tent, Luna lay motionless on her cot, but her sleep was far from peaceful. Since her resurrection from the dead, the black crest upon her forehead had remained a dormant secret, invisible to the naked eye. Now, it flickered to life, pulsing with a dark, oily light that seemed to draw the shadows of the tent toward her brow.
Luna's eyes snapped open, but she wasn't in her tent.
She stood in the heart of the ancient, primordial forest—the home of the Wolfmort Tree. A heavy, suffocating mist clung to the ground, swirling around the gnarled roots that broke through the earth like the ribs of a buried giant.
