No one moved.
That was the most honest reaction the pack had given since the first tremor days ago.
The carved line on the oak did not glow brighter. It did not spread. It did not threaten.
It simply existed.
Deliberate. Clean. Unbroken.
Aurelia lowered her hand slowly.
"If this is negotiation," the scarred wolf said from behind her, "then they expect a response."
"Yes," Aurelia replied.
"And if we don't give one?"
"They will interpret silence," she said calmly. "Just as they have been interpreting everything else."
Mira stepped closer to the tree, studying the cut. "It's precise. Not deep enough to wound the trunk permanently. Just enough to mark."
Aurelia nodded. "They're showing restraint."
"Or control," another wolf muttered.
"Both," Aurelia said.
The word unsettled them more than denial would have.
The eldest elder arrived moments later, flanked by two members of the council. He stopped short when he saw the mark.
For once, he did not speak immediately.
