The dawn that broke over the northern border of the continent was the most magnificent spectacle of light that any living wolf had ever beheld. Standing on the high windswept bluffs of the Whispering Gorge, overlooking the vast, emerald-green river valleys of Moon-Crest stretching forty leagues toward the horizon, Princess Nyra and King Darius stood side by side beneath the rising sun. The mountain ash had settled. The sulfur smoke…
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