Chapter 82 A Fragile Alliance

The uneasy truce between us and the hunters felt like walking on a tightrope, with danger lurking on all sides. As we made our way through the dense forest, every rustle of leaves, every distant howl of the wind sent shivers down my spine. Margaret led the way, her coyote senses sharp as she guided us deeper into the woods, where the Westville pack’s hideout was supposedly located. The hunters trailed behind, their eyes scanning the surroundings with suspicion. I could feel their mistrust, their every step heavy with doubt. Despite the tentative agreement to work together, it was clear that they were still wary of us. And who could blame them? The tension between our two groups ran deep, built on years of hostility and bloodshed. Margaret stopped abruptly, raising a hand to signal for us to halt. “We’re close,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. Noah, who had been walking beside me, stiffened at her words. His hand brushed against mine briefly, a silen