Page 214 of Salt Between the Wolves
The corridors were quieter than usual, as many of the wolves who normally filled them were gone, some permanently and others occupied with funerals, family visits, and the endless duties that followed loss.
The reality of it lingered everywhere, in lowered voices, half-empty tables, and faces that no longer looked quite the same.
Soren noticed all of it and wished he didn't.
By the time he reached his chambers, darkness had fully claimed the mountains.
The room greeted him with the same stillness it always did, containing the same desk, the same fire, and the same bed.
Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed.
He removed his cloak and lowered himself carefully into a chair near the window.
His shoulder protested immediately, and the mark followed a moment later with a dull ache beneath his ribs. It was not sharp this time, which somehow made it almost worse.
The pain had become familiar enough that its absence now felt stranger.
Rain tapped softly against the glass.
Far below, lights flickered throughout Ironfang, forming small pockets of life scattered across the fortress where families gathered, friends mourned, and wolves tried to make sense of the last few weeks.
Soren leaned his head back and closed his eyes, intending to rest only for a moment.
The exhaustion waiting behind them was immediate, heavy, and relentless.
A knock sounded at the door.
His eyes opened instantly.
The first thought that came to him was that it was not Eira, and the realization lingered long enough to irritate him.
"Enter."
The door opened, and one of the younger guards stepped inside.
The wolf looked uncomfortable immediately, which seemed smart considering that most people did lately.
"My lord."
Soren waited.
The guard swallowed before speaking.
"There is a messenger."
That was not unusual.
"There are always messengers."
"Not this one."
The hesitation caught Soren's attention, slowly and reluctantly.
The guard stepped forward and extended a sealed letter.
The wax bore no mark of Frostvein, no mark of Ironfang, and no mark Soren recognized, which somehow made it more interesting.
The young wolf shifted his weight.
