AYLA'S POV
The air still smelled of smoke and blood as Kael and I walked the length of the ruined square. Snow crunched under our boots, thin flakes drifting down to try and hide the scars. Wolves worked in small groups, hauling charred beams from the council hall and shoveling away the last of the blackened snow.
Rylan met us near the fountain's ruins, leaning on a spear with his usual sharp-eyed calm. "Two houses collapsed completely," he said, nodding toward the smoldering wreckage. "Four more are too damaged to live in. But the pack… we're still here."
Kael's golden eyes swept over the workers, sharp and assessing. "And the ones who heard him?" His voice was low, but it carried across the frostbitten air.
Rylan hesitated. "Three are still… twitchy. Their eyes go distant if you leave them in the dark too long. They jump at their own shadows."
I stepped closer, my fingers tingling with a faint trace of silver fire. "I can burn the last of his whispers out if they let me."
