5
ZANE
Ipatrol the boundaries of our camp before dawn, sleep eluding me after a night of tossing and turning. The ambassador’s departure yesterday left an unsettling feeling I refuse to examine too closely. Her questions about our boundary stones disturbed something I usually keep buried—fierce pride mingled with ancient grief for everything stolen from us.
Marcus falls into step beside me, his face tight with concern. “The Mountain Bear scouts have pushed deeper into our northern region.”
“Did they confront our patrols?”
“No. They slashed trees, gouged claw marks, then vanished. They’re probing for weaknesses.”
I consider this news with a curt nod. “Strengthen the northern patrols. Three warriors minimum in each group.”
“I’ve already arranged it.” He hesitates. “The pack discusses the fire panther. Many question why you revealed our sacred places to her.”
I expected nothing less after bringing Ember tolocations no outsider had seen for generations. “They’ll appreciate why when they see what comes of it.”
Marcus squints at me. “And what might that be? She’s gone back to her people, knowing all our vulnerable points.”
“Information that could facilitate actual negotiation instead of battle,” I reply. “We need to solidify our position before Ridge Stormcrow pushes south.”
Marcus stops abruptly, forcing me to turn. “You can’t seriously consider compromise? These are the same people who trapped our ancestors behind magical walls, who hunted our kind for sport?—”
“I know exactly what they did,” I snap, a rumbling growl underlying my words. “I teach our history to the cubs. I hauled my father’s body home after the bear attack. Don’t preach to me about our losses.”
“The young wolves look to you for leadership. They want an alpha fighting for our homeland, not surrendering it in chunks.”
I step into his personal space, using every inch of my superior height. “They need an alpha who guarantees their survival. If that means strategic talks instead of immediate slaughter, then so be it.”
Marcus stares at me briefly—testing how far he can push without crossing into challenge—then dips his chin in acknowledgment and continues walking. This discussion isn’t over, simply delayed.
Morning light spreads across the forest as we finish our round. I turn toward the training area when a scout races toward us.
“Alpha,” she pants, slowing to a stop. “The fire panther ambassador approaches our border markers. She travels alone but carries documents.”
Ember returning so soon? I expected at least another day before hearing from her. “How soon will she arrive?”
“She’ll reach the southern border in half an hour.”
Better to meet on neutral ground than bring her back to camp and further agitate those already questioning my decisions. “Find Lora and Kel. Tell them to intercept and guide her to the river bend clearing. I’ll join them there.”
The scout sprints away. Marcus watches me, irritation evident in his rigid posture.
“Take witnesses with you. The clan deserves to hear whatever she offers firsthand.”
“I’ll assess her proposal first. If it warrants discussion, I’ll summon the elders.”
“And if she’s leading you into an ambush?”
I show my teeth in what no one would mistake for a smile. “Then Haven’s Heart will soon need a replacement ambassador.”
I shift into wolf form and sprint toward the river bend, choosing a winding path to clear my thoughts. The wild joy of running fills me—this deep connection to land that belonged to Shadow Wolves long before humans erected their first dwellings here.
I reach the clearing before Ember and return to human form, pulling on the leather pants I’d secured to my leg. I position myself where the wind blows toward her, preventing her scent from reaching me immediately. Yesterday, her distinctive fire-spice fragrance had haunted my thoughts for hours afterward, triggering instincts I don’t quite understand—or perhaps understand too well and prefer to ignore.
She emerges from the tree line with Lora and Kel flanking her. Unlike our previous encounters, she wears simple leather pants and a plain green tunic instead of herformal uniform. Her auburn hair is braided back from her face, emphasizing her high cheekbones and determined jaw. A leather satchel hangs at her side, bulging with what look like ancient documents.
“Ambassador,” I acknowledge, dismissing my pack members with a flick of my fingers.
