The hoofbeats grew louder as we crested the ridge. Too many. The faint scent of Shadowpine smoke was being carried in the wind, the smell of wood and pitch and the sharp tang of their war banners. I pressed my palm harder against my belly, the small spark inside me fluttering like it already knew trouble was coming.
Darius reined in hard beside me. His arm stayed locked around my waist, claws pricking through my cloak. "An ambush. At least thirty of them. They're moving fast up the pass."
Kane drew his long knife without a word, his eyes scanning the tree line below. Rylan circled his horse closer, his grin sharp but eyes flat. "Your old pack finally grew balls. They smell the witch's mark on you and think we're weak."
