Dylan's POV
The sun was low on the horizon, casting an orange glow over the Bloodmoon Pack's lands. From my vantage point on the hill outside the Pack house, I could see the damage the civil war had wrought.
Broken fences, half-collapsed homes, and barren training grounds told the story of a Pack that had fought against itself and lost more than just lives. I could hear the echoes of rebuilding efforts in the distance, hammers striking, voices shouting orders, but it was a far cry from the thriving home I'd once known.
We'd won the civil war, but the victory felt hollow. Unity was fractured, and trust was a scarce commodity. The Pack was rebuilding, but it wasn't enough. Bloodmoon was vulnerable, and in a world where the strong thrived, weakness was an invitation for vultures to descend.