The next morning Waterwood welcomed their neighboring guests. Some of them who already knew each other and some who still resented the other's gut. Sakura introduced everyone from Waterwoods to the the Winterwell pack and Channing took the lead from their end.
The air carried that strange blend of forced civility and sharpened tension, like two blades held close enough to feel heat but not yet close enough to draw blood. Even the way people stood betrayed more than their words ever could.
Hands lingered near weapons without touching them. Eyes measured, recalculated, withdrew.
Confused as they all were, the severity of war was the only thing they shared.
It wasn't unity. It was survival wearing the mask of cooperation, thin enough that one wrong breath could tear it apart.
