The blood moon pack council chamber didn't feel like a place built for order anymore.
It felt like it was holding itself together out of habit.
Voices overlapped without permission, the old respect between ranks thinning with every sentence. The elders weren't choosing their words carefully anymore. They were speaking like men who no longer trusted that silence would save them.
They were afraid.
And fear had a way of making everyone louder than they meant to be.
"This can't continue," one of them said sharply, voice tighter than Silas had ever heard it in this room. "The cold is spreading. The weaker members are already struggling."
"We have pups," another added, more urgent now. "If this gets worse—"
"It will," a third cut in, blunt and grim. "Nothing about this is slowing down."
Silas stood at the center of it, still.
Watching.
Listening.
