The river plains camp had fallen into a tense, exhausted hush after the first day's heavy fighting. Torches flickered along the defensive lines while healers moved among the wounded, their low voices mixing with the distant groans of injured wolves.
Seren stood at the edge of the command tent, her new wolf senses still buzzing from the day's chaos. She could smell the coppery blood on the wind, the sharp fear lingering in the air, and the faint lavender trace of Elowen's camp a mile downstream. Her body ached from shifting and fighting, but the bond with her mates kept her steady and all wrapped around her like armour.
A rider approached from the southern road under a small escort of royal guards. The horse was lathered, the rider cloaked against the night chill. As the figure dismounted near the command area, Seren's heart lurched. She caught the familiar scent before the hood fell back, lavender soap, dried herbs, and the warm earthiness of home.
"Mother?"
