Prologue: The Intruder
It was still dark. Redwood valley slumbered in the soft glow of dawn, shrouded in the shadows of the slow-fading night, its neat rows of houses looking like illustrations in a page out of a children's fairytale book. It was hard to imagine that these lovely little cottages housed some of the fiercest warriors of the land, but it was true. The Crescent Fire pack had a formidable reputation among friends and enemies alike. No rogue wolf ever tried to cross their borders because they knew it meant certain death. Till now.
The woman stood at the edge of the forest, watching. A couple of patrol guards walked by, not seeing her. She arched and twisted her neck. This close to pack territory, the scar where she had been branded long ago, was burning again. But pain was an illusion, a trick of the mind. It had taken her years to learn that. And nothing tricked her. She knelt, flattening her palms against the earth and whispered. The air picked up her words and turned it into a breeze, which wove its way through the grass where the soldiers stood. The woman rose, brushing off the dampness of morning dew from her hands. She smiled.
Down below, the night mist was fading, bringing Redwood Valley into a clearer view as it unfurled like an oyster in the morning light.
