Thorne's POV
War does not start with the clash of blades or the snapping of jaws.
A silence preluded it.
The kind of silence where even the birds refuse to sing and the forest stills, where every wolf in the courtyard stiffens with eyes on the horizon, waiting for the storm to come.
I stood at the head of the wall with my hands clasped behind me and eyes fixed on the tree line. Warriors lined the stones at my back, shifting from paw to paw, the air thick with fear.
They thought I couldn't smell it.
I could.
Their fear smelled sharper than blood.
"Alpha," Elder Darius rasped behind me. "The Shadowfang and Ironclaw banners are less than a mile. Our scouts say they are at least double our warriors."
"Then we fight twice as hard," I said.
He hesitated. "Or we can give them what they want."
I turned. Slowly. My claws clicked against the stone rail as I faced him.
