Within ten minutes, the ravine fell completely silent, save for the heavy breathing of the Free Clan soldiers and the dying whimpers of the wolves.
Forty-nine wolves lay dead in the dirt.
Only one remained alive.
It was a young scout, barely out of adolescence. Both of his legs had been cleanly broken by a sweep of Sarn's heavy tail. The young wolf dragged himself backward through the blood-soaked dirt, his eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated terror, until his back hit the rocky wall of the ravine.
The shield wall parted.
Veer walked slowly through the gap, his dark coat spotless, his twin blades dripping with crimson. He stopped a few feet away from the trembling wolf and crouched down, resting his forearms on his knees. His predatory eyes locked onto the scout, completely devoid of mercy.
"You're going to live, pup," Veer said softly, his voice a chilling rumble. "Because my wife is incredibly generous, and she wants you to deliver a message."
