The first crack did not appear in a council chamber. It appeared in the barracks.
Sable heard the shouting before she saw the blood.
The northern training hall was supposed to be closed for the evening. Patrol shifts had already rotated, and most of the pack had settled into the muted rhythm of post-dinner routine. The raised voices cut through stone corridors sharply enough that even wolves accustomed to conflict turned their heads.
She was halfway down the western passage when a body was thrown against the far wall of the training pit. The impact was violent enough to silence the room.
A mid-ranking warrior, Daren, hit the stone with a sickening thud, breath knocked from his lungs. Across from him stood another warrior, shoulders heaving, eyes bright with anger rather than sparring focus.
"This is what happens when everything runs through one throat!" the standing wolf shouted.
Murmurs rippled through the gathered pack members. Sable stepped forward without thinking.
