Echoes Of War | Fantasy [Book #1]

CHAPTER XX | RUMORS IN THE WIND

Silence reigns over the pack.

Not the peaceful kind—the kind that settles heavy and unyielding, like a storm cloud sinking low enough to brush their fur.

Only the rhythmic crunch of leaves underpaw and the sharp snap of twigs mark their passage, each sound cracking through the hush like something dangerous drawing breath. The forest around them seems to listen, holding itself taut, waiting.

Lunis feels it first—that charged stillness, the way it slithers under her pelt and coils tight in her chest. A storm of thoughts brews behind her eyes, dark and restless, churning like thunder at the edge of breaking.

Beside her, Blaze walks quietly. Too quietly.

His steps are steady, but his emotions churn just as fiercely, radiating off him in waves he doesn’t bother hiding. Every so often, he glances her way—quick, fleeting, almost guilty—before returning his gaze to the path ahead. She doesn’t call him out on it. Doesn’t know how to. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

And Rodwen…

His presence is a boulder lodged in the current, unmoving, unreadable. Each stride he takes is stiff with thought, his tail held low, jaw tight. He says nothing. But Lunis can feel his tension like static brushing against her skin, threatening to crack if touched.

The wilderness around them offers no comfort.

The trees stand tall and skeletal, their bare limbs whispering warnings through the brittle wind. Even the air feels colder—sharper—as though it too anticipates something coming. Something close.

No one speaks.

No one wants to be the one to shatter the heavy quiet.

But the weight of their feelings hangs above their heads like storm-charged air—anger. Fear. Confusion.

A tension so sharp it feels as though one wrong breath might shatter the fragile calm holding them all together.

Lunis feels it coil inside her too.

A slow, sickening twist deep in her gut, like thorns grinding through her insides with every new thought. Her breaths come shallow. Uneven. She tries to steady them, but her mind refuses to quiet.

Her thoughts drift—unbidden—back to the stranger’s words.

‘‘What does concern me… is what this particular rogue has within her grasp—something that belongs to me. A pup.’’

The accusations claw at her mind like hooked fangs.

Could it be true?

Echo, who cowered and snarled and cried over her pup. Echo, who trembled at the thought of losing Zira.

Was that all an act?

Or is Lunis simply seeing monsters where there are none?

Her stomach churns again, harder this time.

She lifts her gaze toward the head of the patrol, watching Navira and Rohan as they move through the thinning trees. Their silhouettes cut through the forest light with practiced grace, but Lunis can see it—the faint falter in their rhythm, the heaviness in each stride.

They are unsettled too.

Navira’s tail is held just a little too stiff.

Rohan’s ears flick back at every sound, every whisper of wind.

Wolves who are usually pillars of strength now look as though a shadow trails their every step. Even as the promise of safety from the twisted oaks looms above them, neither wolf seems inclined to speak.