Chapter 4
A Child's Courage, A Wolf's Instinct
The air in the elder’s den felt thick with worry, a scent that clung to the rough-hewn wood and the woven mats like a damp shroud. Kai, small for his seven years, crouched just outside the entrance, his knees tucked beneath his chin, pretending to be absorbed in tracing the intricate patterns of a fallen leaf. He wasn't supposed to be eavesdropping, not really, but the hushed tones and the occasional sharp intake of breath from within had snagged his attention like a burr on his tunic.
Elder Maeve’s voice, usually a gentle rumble like pebbles shifting in a stream, was strained. "The coughing worsens. Even the strongest are growing weak. The moon… it seems to weep with us."
Another voice, gruffer and laced with a familiar anxiety, replied. Roric. Kai knew that voice. It was the voice that always sounded like a growl before it even spoke, a voice that worried about the edges of their territory and the dwindling berry patches. "We've tried the poultices, Maeve. The herbs. Nothing. It’s as if the very spirit of the pack is being leached away."
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