Overture Downs make your peace

Right, he says. But it was part of what made me like this. The tapering of thick chest to stomach thinner than it has been in his lifetime, due to his status. He often went hungry, and the Wilds haven’t been much different than the road here.

On occasion, he’d go hungry in the pits, too, when he’d made the wrong person mad—stare at the wrong person, you got beaten and no food for days.

Champagne eyes flicker to the blood still seeping on Ghost’s neck. He rolls to the right, shoulders sliding and bulk hitting the ground next to the smaller wolf with a thud. He rotates a second later, laying so his stomach touches the ground, and does what he often did with battle brothers; grooms, even if Ghost is a sore loser.