Two weeks.
That's all it took for me to turn a pack of wandering males into an army that made the sands tremble.
Under the red desert sun, the camp stretched as far as the eye could see, bristling with stakes, tents, and black banners. Eight hundred warriors stood in perfect ranks, torsos oiled, weapons raised. Their cries rose in waves, timed to the pounding of fists against bare chests, resonating like a war drum.
— SORA! SORA! SORA!
The name cracked through the air like a divine command.
I advanced through the center of the wide avenue that split the camp. The males stepped aside, standing tall, eyes shining with the fervor I had forged. They had come from all corners of the desert, drawn by my promise: a future where they would no longer be whipped dogs to female tribes… but wolves that devour.
Around me, my five women marched, weapons in hand, dressed for war.
Not ornaments. Not trophies. My alpha she-wolves.
