Exhausted

I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms over my head as a deep groan of exhaustion escapes me. I swear, if I have to look at one more logistics sheet, I might shift just to shred it with my claws.

The annual pack gathering is turning into the biggest headache of my life. It's not just about organizing accommodations—it's coordinating food, security, protocol, pack relations, and managing egos the size of mountains.

Thirteen high-tier packs, each with over a thousand wolves, thirty-three mid-tier packs with three hundred to six thousand members, and sixty-seven lower-tier packs with less than three hundred members.

That's a little over four hundred wolves descending upon Moonsand, and the worst part?

They all have the temperament of territorial, half-rabid animals crammed into one space.