AYLA'S POV
The wind off the Frostfangs bit like knives as we prepared to leave Northmoon behind.
The square was quieter now, but the scent of ash and smoke still clung to the stones. Wolves moved with tense focus, loading packs, sharpening blades, and securing furs against the northern cold. Every movement hummed with the knowledge that this wasn't a patrol. It was a hunt—and it could kill us all.
Kael strode through the preparations like a living shadow, his black cloak snapping in the wind, golden eyes sharp and commanding. He didn't need to raise his voice; the bond between us pulsed hot and steady, carrying his determination like a second heartbeat.
Rylan leaned against the wagon piled with supplies, his amber-violet eyes watching me as I checked the straps on a leather satchel. "Still time to change your mind, Luna," he said, his tone more teasing than serious. "You could stay in the warm hall while we freeze our tails off in the mountains."
