Chapter 44 The Fall Of Hemlock

• ‎The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Bloodstain pack’s borders. Old Man Hemlock paced steadily, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon with the experience of a thousand battles. His joints ached, his bones creaked with every step, but he moved with the determination of a warrior half his age. The Bloodstain warriors followed in silence, their eyes vigilant, their footsteps synchronized. Despite Alyssa's repeated requests for him to rest, Hemlock had been hellbent on keeping watch—his instincts telling him something dark lingered in the air.
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• ‎They reached the western gate, its towering iron bars stretching high into the canopy of trees. Hemlock paused, his body tensing. His hand lifted, signaling the warriors to stop. He sniffed the air, brows furrowing. There was something—an energy, pulsing and unnatural—like the whispers of shadows creeping beneath the surface.