[POV: Solenne]
Solenne watched from the top floor of the Citadel as caravans arrived at the gates. The air shimmered with the fog from their warm breath and the crush of movement; fur-lined cloaks trailed behind them, and the sound of howls rolled faintly across the valley.
For a week, the Crimson Moon's territory had been slowly swelling with guests — but now, with the Moon Ceremony only days away, the flood had become a storm. Wolves from the southern and western packs spilled through the mountain passes, their beasts restless beneath their skins.
Even from this distance, she could feel the tension in the air — that primal ripple that came whenever too many alphas gathered in one place. The old world's etiquette barely contained it; civility was a thin veneer over instinct, especially in this era.
