External POV
It was not a sigil used by Moonstone.
Nor Oakwood.
Nor any recognized external pack.
The survey lead logged it as an anomaly and moved on.
Two days later, a patrol near the southern flats found another half-buried beneath old ash, revealed only because the ground had been churned by a containment misfire weeks earlier. Same curvature. Same geometry. Same faint pressure hum that made the wolves' teeth ache and their instincts recoil.
This one was older.
Much older.
The pattern began to emerge only when someone - no one would later admit who - overlaid the locations.
Every marker aligned with a historical conflict site.
Not victories.
Not defeats.
Losses.
Places where something had gone wrong. Where leadership had fractured. Where decisions had arrived just late enough to be fatal.
Where restraint had failed or been exploited.
The mountain noticed last.
That too was deliberate.
