The storm broke before dawn.
Evelyn awoke to shouting in the courtyard, voices sharp with anger. She threw on her cloak and rushed to the balcony, the chill air stinging her skin. Below, torches burned in the half-light, illuminating two groups of wolves facing one another like rival armies. On one side, the elders' loyalists, their faces grim and rigid. On the other hand, younger warriors with eyes blazing, their voices raised in Evelyn's name.
"What is this madness?" she hissed, racing down the stairwell two steps at a time. By the time she pushed into the courtyard, growls had already begun to echo, claws scraping against stone as tempers boiled over.
George stood in the centre, arms spread, trying to keep the wolves apart. His voice was a roar, but it was swallowed by the chaos. "Stand down, all of you! You shame your Alpha with this squabbling!"
They did not listen.
