ULRIC KNIGHT
The forest is alive.
Not in the way any normal stretch of trees might be with birds shifting in branches, or the faint scurry of foxes through the underbrush. No, this place moves with intention. Each step we take is weighed, tested, as if the ground itself wants to know if we deserve to put our paws down.
I press forward anyway, heavy muscles rolling beneath my black coat. The mist is long behind us, but the air here is worse. Thicker. Sap-sweet and sharp at once, heavy enough to clog the back of my throat. The trunks of the trees lean in toward the path as though they're whispering, narrowing the way until it feels like a cage.
Stay sharp, I send through the link, my voice a low rumble in the heads of the other two.
The Alpha of Redhollow wasn't exaggerating. The forest doesn't want us here. Beside me, Elias's wolf larger than Hayden's, his fur the same dark brown shade as his human hair, pads with rigid precision.
