The victory at the Whispering Pass had reverberated through every hall and parapet of Fort Fenris. By order of the Alpha, three days of feast and preparation were declared, but inside Gunnar’s private quarters on the highest tier, the world was shuttered, peaceful, and warm. A colossal hearth fire of dry mountain oak crackled with steady, hypnotic warmth, filling the room with the sweet, nostalgic aroma of burning wood, amber…
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