After the Storm
The aftermath of the battle brought a stillness that felt almost surreal. The ground, once a battlefield, was now littered with remnants of the chaos—broken weapons, torn earth, and faint traces of blood. The early morning sun painted the scene in hues of gold, softening the harsh reality of the night's events.
Eric stood at the center of it all, his body weary but his spirit unbroken. The weight of leadership bore down on him as he looked around, taking in the faces of his pack. Some were wounded, others grieving, but there was a sense of unity that had never been stronger.
Tending to the Wounded
Aria moved swiftly among the injured, her hands steady despite the exhaustion etched into her face. The pack's healer, Miriam, had set up a makeshift triage area under the canopy of a massive oak tree. Wolves in both forms lay sprawled on blankets, their wounds tended with precision.