As a small tribe's beast lord, Emra was completely conflicted.
Two hundred years of life. Two centuries of watching her people survive against impossible odds. Her small tribe, the Meroron Foxes, had experienced more wars than she could count on both hands. They had been forced to relocate their territories so many times that home had become a concept rather than a place.
Thankfully, through every conflict, through every displacement, through every nightmare, no one had ever died or been seriously injured under her protection. That was her pride and accomplishment, the one thing that made the endless struggle worth it.
But it was still a hard life.
This time too, Emra had to bite the bullet.
Her territory, nestled dangerously close to the Delanivis lands, had been chosen as a warzone basecamp by the Edengolds.
