Chapter 56: Clumsy Hands and Festival Preparations
The morning sun hung low over the Nightshade Pack's compound, its pale light filtering through the snow-heavy pines, casting dappled shadows on the stone paths.
The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine, woodsmoke, and the faint tang of fresh bread from the communal hall. Sophia trudged back from the training ground, her boots crunching against the frosted ground, her tailored cloak damp with sweat from the grueling five-mile run.
Her legs ached, her lungs still burned, but a quiet pride simmered in her chest. She'd kept pace with the young warriors and hunters, Dren's advice about breathing and pacing echoing in her mind. She scanned the bustling compound, her breath fogging as she headed toward her small stone house, its rune-etched door glowing faintly in the dawn.
