The message arrived before the riders did.
A single wolf crossed the eastern boundary at dawn under white flag protocol, moving at measured pace and stopping precisely at the outer patrol line rather than pushing further. He did not shift when confronted, did not bow, and did not attempt explanation beyond the single sentence he had clearly been instructed to deliver.
"Alpha Ronan of Black Hollow requests entry to speak."
He said nothing more. The name carried weight. Black Hollow did not border Grimridge directly, but its territory curved wide across the northern valleys, rich in timber and iron, its warriors known for discipline rather than savagery. Ronan was not a young alpha hungry for expansion. He had ruled long enough to establish order, and long enough to outlast challengers who had underestimated him.
Cassian listened to the report without visible reaction.
"Grant entry," he said. "Limited escort. Eight or fewer."
