I have spent too many dawns alone at the moss-lined edge of these grounds, listening for threats while denying the hunger to be pursued that has grown louder with each passing season.
Jack Finch has become the only one who matches my vigilance, his low-slung gait turning every shared patrol into a test of wills where alliance battles the urge to turn and flee so he can close the distance.
Now the Blood Moon Eclipse is rising, and there are fresh tracks past the fallen oak. His hunger for my surrender pulls at the edges of my focus on the rival pack. I keep asking whether we can hold this territory without him mounting the chase I both fear and need. Every patrol brings the answer closer. The next time he runs, I will not stay still.
