The northern iron gate of the amphitheater groaned open twenty minutes later, breaking the tense silence that hung over the assembly. A trumpet sounded from the northern tunnel, but its tone was cracked, hollow, and mournful. "Announcing the delegation of the Shadowclaw Pack!" the herald called out, his voice lacking the thunderous pride that had accompanied Shadowclaw for four generations. "Alpha Kael, Lord of the Northern River Valleys!" Through the…
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