Chapter 47 The Ruins Of Eastwoods

• DRAKE
• Blood, smoke and a bad odor—fear—were all in the air. It was suffocating and heavy clinging to the ruins like an omen.
• The Eastwoods Pack was nothing more than a cemetery of destroyed houses and wolves, a smoldering wreckage. I stood motionless at its edge observing. The pack was burned to the ground in half. With broken walls, bodies ripped apart and limbs strewn about like trash, what was left was scarcely better.