The sun hadn't fully risen yet over the MoonVeil Pack. A pale light filtered through the tall windows of the Alpha's study, falling across the wide oak desk where several scrolls and reports were laid out. The room smelled of paper and ink; the scent lingered in places where lengthy discussions about territory, alliances, and threats often happened.
Theron sat at the head of the desk, his posture straight but his eyes weary. He had been awake since dawn, reviewing reports about border patrols and trade routes. Veylor, his younger brother, and Beta stood nearby, leaning against one of the chairs with a tired smile.
"Those wanderers have been getting bolder," Veylor said, rubbing his jaw as he looked over one of the documents. "If they keep pressing from the east border, we'll have to double the patrols."
Theron gave a short nod. "I've already sent word to the commanders. The east is vulnerable now that half the warriors were sent to aid the Lycanthrian convoy."
