It was a quiet night, and a light breeze flowed through the trees near the Blood Stone Packhouse. Most of the pack members were already in bed, and the packhouse was wrapped in a peaceful silence.
But Davian sat in his office, going through some paperwork. It was late, but he often found himself working late into the night, especially now, with recent rogue activity keeping him on edge.
As he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, a sudden noise caught his attention. It was faint, almost drowned out by the stillness of the night, but Davian's sensitive ears picked up on it. It sounded like... a cry. He went still, his entire body tensing as he listened more closely. The sound came again—a muffled whimper, a voice filled with fear.
