'Let's see…'
Luna squinted as she walked through the eerily quiet path between cottages, her boots crunching lightly against dry leaves and dirt. The air was still, save for the faint breeze that carried a distinct, mouthwatering scent—cooked meat, seasoned and rich.
Her stomach gave a soft, pitiful growl.
'I can smell it... definitely meat. Warm, freshly grilled. Damn it, I'm starving.'
But she pushed the hunger down. She had a goal.
Lirien had said the food storage was nearby—where they kept the cooked meats before they were rationed. He had whispered it like a secret, and now that Luna was following the scent, she realized he wasn't lying.
'It's getting stronger. It has to be close.'
She stepped lightly, her posture low, almost feline, ears tuned for the slightest sign of life. But to her relief, there was no one around. Not a single soul.
Lirien had been right again—most of the werewolves must've gone to watch the Alphas being punished.
