Prince Alaric moved through the stackings of trees with a deliberate, measured pace.
His heart was encroached with pain and uneasiness as he continued ahead.
The Bloodstone Crater he now strode upon, had been a place of solace for him, a sanctuary where the air was always fresh and soothing, a balm for both body and spirit. Just days ago—he had come here to represent the Dancing Stripe Pack.
A plead for the Great Luna's blessing.
Even before that, this valley had been a refuge, its comforting breezes exclusive only to few.
Only Werewolves of pure blue blood, a privilege reserved for the worthy.
But tonight, the air was thick with an unnatural tension.
Prince Alaric could tell that the sanctity of this holy ground had been violated.
