Echoes Of War

CHAPTER VI | SILVER BENEATH THE PINES

"Lunis, Sunny, Senna—you three will come with me. We'll take the west borders. Ishka, you lead the others south to meet Rohan and Navira. Meet me here before Sunhigh."

Rodwen's bark slices through the morning air, firm yet fluid, catching the ears of every wolf without need for repetition. Heads lift. Tails still. Obedience flows like breath.

Once the patrols have been confirmed and wolves begin to split into their respective teams, Lunis follows the russet-furred Beta without hesitation, her paws light beneath her. She can hardly hide the smile tugging at her muzzle—wide and unrestrained, despite her usual restrain.

A quarter moon had passed since her talk with Silver, yet the echo of that conversation still lingers in her chest—less like a wound now, more like a healing bruise. The vision, too, is still there. Pressed against the back of her thoughts like the memory of water across fur. But today, it feels easier to bear.

Today, she walks among her pack again—not as a burden, not as a reckless pup under watchful eyes—but as a wolf with purpose.

She's finally free from Teta duties. Finally allowed to run.

But as the young she-wolf trails after the Beta, her paws brushing silently against the damp grass, she already feels the change in the air.

The wind, once warm and full of Summer's scent, now carries a sharper bite—crisp and cool, whispering through the trees like a forewarning. Beneath her pads, the ground is slick with icy dew, the blades of grass trembling beneath each step. Overhead, the birds wheel and cry—no longer singing for mates or territory, but charting their path southward, their migration an age-old signal of what's to come.

Summer's reign is ending.

And with its fading warmth, prey will begin to vanish into the shifting winds.

Already, the elk herds had begun their quiet retreat, their heavy hooves carving fresher trails toward the southern lowlands, toward greener, warmer grazing grounds. It meant longer patrols, sharper eyes, and the inevitable question lingering over every decision the Alphas would soon have to make: stay and extend their hunting ground beyond their territory or move the entire pack to new grounds?

The thought weighs heavy—not just on her, but on all of them. But beneath the warriness, excitement prickles like wildfire beneath their pelts.

Confidence steadies Lunis' stride as she refocuses on the task ahead, her paws brushing silently through the thick carpet of pine needles. The cool hush of the taiga wraps around her like a cloak, every scent and distant rustle grounding her more firmly in the present. Around her, the patrol weaves between trunks draped in moss and shadow, their steps measured, quiet, alert.

After several heartbeats of silence, Rodwen raises his tail—a signal. The group halts as one, still as stone.

The Beta lifts his muzzle, amber eyes narrowing as they sweep the forest ahead. His nostrils twitch, reading the wind, the ground, the unseen. Around them, the air hums with the faint chirr of crickets, the rustle of leaves disturbed by nothing larger than a breeze.

"The trail goes stale here," Rodwen murmurs, his voice low, threaded with thought. "It seems we may need to search further into the hills."

Lunis takes a slow breath, feeling the wind swirl against her tongue. She lifts her head and tastes the air. Sap. Distant earth. The memory of hooves pressed into damp soil.

Her ears twitch, certain now.

"What about the watering hole?" she offers, voice sure but soft as pawsteps in the underbrush. "The elk may have circled back to drink before they move again."