Chapter 12

The next morning, the sun beamed exuding its glories through the thick blue clouds, the birds were already about their morning rituals, chirping and flapping their wings from tree to tree. There was a cool breeze that was blowing all over. There was a sweet moisture that filled the air. That was the kind of weather that sent the werewolves into a moment of joy, it was going to be a good day. It made them remember the moon goddess had their interests at heart. They felt it but never was able to fathom what exactly was going to happen. The only people who were privileged to such knowledge were the Witches usually referred to as the Nights. They were augurs and sibyls meaning they could foresee the future, read people’s minds, and offer judgments to offenders. They were rare in ShadowClaw.

Their lineage was wiped off several years ago by Tristan’s great-great-grandfather who saw them as rebellious to his reign. Whenever beautiful mornings such as this one arose in ShadowClaw the pack me