Ares' face was etched in what appeared to be a permanent frown as he stood before the wall of wild vines; his piercing gaze scrutinised the tangled mass as if searching for a hidden mystery. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the vines seemed to writhe and twist in the flickering torchlight.
Behind him, Viola's secluded area of the Phoenix Pack was a hub of subdued activity. A group of young she-wolves, Lucy's friends, were huddled together in a corner. They had their faces streaked with tears as they sobbed quietly, mourning the loss of their friend. The sound of their muffled weeping hung in the air like a mournful melody.
Nearby, other pack members rummaged through the rubble of Viola's collapsed roof, searching for anything of value amidst the splintered wood and shattered stone. The sound of shifting debris and muttered conversations filled the air, creating a sense of subdued chaos.
