Two weeks after the banishment, the den had transformed from refuge into fortress.
What had been a shelter for five now housed thirty-seven wolves. The new warriors, those who'd chosen my side over Jasper's, needed quarters, training rotations, food stores that could support an army instead of a family. The main hall that had once felt spacious now buzzed with constant motion. The scent of so many wolves layered the air: sweat and leather, pine and smoke, the metallic tang of weapons being sharpened. Voices echoed off the stone walls at all hours. Footsteps thundered across wooden floors. The den had become a living thing, breathing with the rhythm of pack life.
