Five years later. The summer sun crested the crags of Little Tahoma Peak, casting long golden shadows across the pristine snowpack of the Ingraham Glacier. At twelve thousand feet, the air was crisp, thin, and filled with the scent of high-altitude pine, wild heather, and ancient ice. Four wolves moved across the snowfield in a joyful, coordinated run. Leading the pack was Kaelen, his massive midnight-silver dire wolf form radiating…
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