Smoke clung to the morning like a second sky, trailing over the hills in thin gray tendrils. The battlefield lay quiet now—silent but not still. Blood seeped into the earth, mingling with the ashes of broken weapons and scorched leather. Where once there had been the roar of wolves and the clash of steel, now there was only the wind, whispering through the trees like a mourning song.
Aria stood at the edge of the valley, her cloak torn, hair wind-whipped and tangled. Her eyes, though rimmed with fatigue, blazed with the fire of a leader forged in chaos. Behind her, Kael approached slowly, limping slightly from a wound he refused to acknowledge. He stopped beside her, silent.
"He's gone and now I think we have the trust of most of his packs,some will still come to fight us thinking we are the reason for his death but we will be prepared" she said quietly, her voice carrying like an arrow in the wind.
Kael nodded, his jaw clenched. "But the war isn't over."
