Dragoncrest Cliffs —i can't help but pull the earth around me,

Aure’s paw-falls made to stumble after her mind, and she was moved by something archaic and effeminate where her reasoning wilted. Already molding herself behind the burnished, stalwart figure of the brana, she heard the name she’d never again speak fall from his lips.

For so long, she’d wondered how she may protect herself from Rakk’s bloodlust, should he have been unmarred. For so long, she’d believed the only other wolf she’d ever killed had been her brother. She’d dreamt up every possible scenario that would end with Rakk’s throat between her jaws. But now that her hunter was here, mangled and lame... Aure didn’t know how to exactly feel, besides terror.

Her own voice had dwindled in her throat when Natjuk first heeded her words—but she shook it soundly when the spider lurched forward, baring fangs. If the Mâncător had supposed the brana was his executioner, then Aure supposed she was nothing more than its herald to pass the sentence.

With that in mind, she sent up another peal; similar to the first she’d heralded Greyback to moons ago. But this time, she was in the protection of her own realm — and would protect, as she could.