The sky was slowly darkening, with low-hanging clouds that carried the promise of rain. The sun was still high, but hid behind the grey veil. A wind, born somewhere in the mountains, swept through the forest, rustling the leaves in the trees and the furs of the wolves living there. It brought with it the scent of a stranger.
Yargol had been spending the day at the border of the territory, together with some of the other pack members. They’d been training, keeping away from the falls where ...
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