It was late, and the only thing that lit up the night sky were the stars.
The moon had gone hiding, swallowed up by the thick blanket of night, but that didn't in any way affect the eyesight of the werewolves, whose yellow‑rimmed eyes glittered in the dark like predatory lanterns. Each blink was slow, deliberate, and almost unnerving to watch, the glow shifting faintly when they turned their heads.
Jared and the three council members—Fallon, Kannedy, and Brilla—took a carriage. The polished wood of the vehicle creaked under its own weight, the faint smell of leather from the worn seats mixing with the night air. Outside, the other men he had brought with him either ran with measured, powerful strides or mounted the well‑trained horses they had brought. Hooves thudded quietly against the packed dirt road, the rhythm unbroken.
