The evening seemed shockingly motionless, as if the earth itself was holding its breath. On a hill above our camp, I stood by myself and saw the shattered promises of war spread across the blood-stained landscape. Secrets held weight in the distance from the faint murmur of wounded wolves and hushed chats. But none of it matched to the cold that suddenly crept up my spine—a cold signalling a realization I had both long guessed and dreaded.
For weeks, treachery has been a quiet adversary within our group. Half-truths, whispers of betrayal, and furtive looks had undermined the trust we had laboriously developed. And now that poison was going to show itself as a mark, one that would expose among us someone who had turned traitor.
