The afternoon carried a restless warmth that settled uneasily across the training ground, where the air felt charged not with peace but with anticipation, and Ella stood at the edge of the open space with her shoulders held straight though her fingers curled faintly against her sides, her gaze calm yet distant as if measuring something beyond what lay before her, while the low murmur of gathered wolves rippled outward in quiet speculation, their curiosity sharpened by something instinctive they could not quite name.
Ava Turner stepped forward from the loose circle, her stride firm and deliberate, her chin lifted just enough to display confidence that bordered on challenge, and her eyes locked onto Ella with a sharpness that held neither hesitation nor courtesy, her posture rigid yet balanced as if every movement had been weighed and chosen long before this moment arrived.
