Page 43 of When Two Worlds Collide

I dismiss him with a gesture, but his warning echoes as I walk our camp perimeter. The pack prepares for war—sharpening weapons, reinforcing defenses, organizing supplies. Good wolves, strong and loyal. They followed me from ancestral domains, trusting me to lead them home.

What if I lead them toward destruction instead?

The northern borderrests quietly beneath a waxing moon. I arrive early, checking for traps or ambushes, finding only familiar forest sounds. No sign of Alliance forces or hidden weapons.

Ember arrives precisely at midnight, alone as promised. She wears practical clothing—dark pants and a jacket that wouldn’t hinder shifting. Her auburn hair pulled back emphasizes her face’s sharp lines. Moonlight highlights her wild qualities rather than her civilized ones.

“Thank you for coming,” she says.

“What information do you bring?”

“Not here.” She glances around. “Follow me.”

She guides me deeper into neutral territory, to a small clearing with a fallen log. From a hidden hollow in the trunk, she retrieves a rolled map and several documents.

“The Alliance lacks unity,” she explains, spreading the map between us. “Dragons want immediate military action. Vampires prefer containment and isolation. The shifter council remains divided.”

“How does this help my pack?”

“Division creates opportunity.” She indicates marked sections. “These areas—here, here, and here—received official acknowledgment as Shadow Wolf territory in pre-barrier treaties. Kade and I gathered evidence.”

I examine the map, noting it includes approximately half our claimed territory. “Insufficient.”

“Consider it a beginning,” she insists. “A legal precedent. If the council acknowledges these historical boundaries, we can negotiate expansion rather than fighting for basic recognition.”

“And other wild clans? Stormcrow’s bears?”

Her expression darkens. “The bear chief complicates everything. But if your pack demonstrates peaceful integration, it establishes a model for others.”

“Their leader ignores models or anything peaceful.”

“Then he becomes the exception, not the rule. The Alliance focuses on him, not you.”

I walk the clearing, considering her proposal. Clever, politically strategic—dividing opposition, distinguishing between wild clans, establishing legal precedent. Very civilized thinking.

“Additional information exists,” she says. “The bear clan moves westward.”

I stop walking. “Toward us?”

“Yes. My sources observed them crossing Silver River yesterday.”

This changes everything. Stormcrow approaching my territory indicates one thing: a challenge. His bears consider themselves supreme predators of the ancestral domains. They allow no competition.

“How many?”

“At least sixty warriors. Unknown number of non-combatants.”

A significant force. My pack numbers eighty-three total, with only forty-five trained fighters.

“Why tell me this?” I ask. “Your council would prefer we fight each other. Reduce our numbers.”

“Because I want no more bloodshed,” she says simply. “Not settler, not wolf, not bear.”

I study her moonlit face, seeking deception but finding none. The mating bond complicates objective assessment. However, my wolf instincts detect no dishonesty.

“Stormcrow never stops,” I tell her. “He ignores borders or treaties. He takes whatever he wants and destroys everything else.”

“Then help me stop him. Work with Haven’s Heart to contain the bear clan specifically, not all wild clans.”

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