Nadia’s den was near the borders of Dawnshire, the woman having made it so in case she needed to make a quick getaway. Back when she was new to Dawnshire, not knowing whether she would be forced to leave the pack.
Consequently, she heard the full force of the heartbroken howl. She jumped, shaken out of a trance-like staring contest with the floor of her den. What on earth . . . ? Was there a death? The voice wasn’t like any she had heard in Dawnshire, so was it a messenger from Hawthorne, or Ranjord, or Sabertooth? She leaped from the den, limbs spurred into quick action for the first time since Wraith had flung herself from the cliff. At the border, she was met with the sight of a tiny, lonely pup. He was shivering and whimpering. Nadia drew closer, scarcely daring to breathe. “Hello,” she murmured, wanting not to upset him. “Who are you? Who left you all alone inside Dawnshire, hmm?” She could scent the faint smell of a grown female, both in the air and all over this pup.

“Just not home!”