“Sounds make sense.” He nodded once, deliberate. “This is your battle. But keep in mind—”
“I know.” I lifted my chin, the Rustpire legacy settling on my shoulders like armor. “A Rustpire always finishes what they start.”
“How has the pack been? What’s happening in the territory?” I leaned back on the fur-lined couch, ready to hear everything I’d missed.
Mother and Father exchanged a sharp, heavy look. The air in the den seemed to chill.
“What?” My gaze flicked between them. “What happened?”
Father’s jaw tensed. He strode to the rune-etched drink cabinet and poured himself a measure of ember-whiskey. “The Wintermoon Pack.”
My heart dropped. The Wintermoons had been our oldest rival clan. “What about them?”
“They’ve risen in strength,” Mother said tightly. “Far more than before.”
“How? Last time I was here, they were barely holding their borders—”
“Sorenna Wintermoon bonded with Alaric Rageclaw six moons ago.” Father downed the drink in one swallow. “The Rageclaw Clan supports them now.”
Color drained from my face. The Rageclaws dominated half the New Lycan. “You’re telling me they merged?”