CHAPTER 163
The air here was different. It didn't carry the ancient scent of the White Oaks or the damp, neutral musk of the neutral zone.
It was sharp and smelled of territory—of a thousand marked trees and a thousand predatory warnings.
Clara stood at the edge of the ravine, her white eyes darting through the gloom. She could hear Barnaby's heavy paws thumping further into the brush, his yaps of excitement fading as he pursued the rabbit deeper into a forbidden zone.
"Barnaby, get back here this instant!" she hissed, taking a step forward, her boots crunching on a bed of dry pine needles.
She was mere inches from the invisible line—the border of the Blood-Moon pack. To any other creature, this line was a death sentence, but Clara wasn't an unholy nor holy and she had lived in these woods long before the Alphas had claimed them.
She wasn't afraid of any pack, but she was wary of the timing. Suddenly, the brush on the opposite side of the ravine exploded.
