Night fell over Shadowclaw.
Faelyn lay on the furs Nyx had prepared for her.
Eyes open.
Staring at the ceiling.
Sleep wouldn't come.
The unified mark throbbed. Dull but persistent. Like a second heartbeat just beneath her skin.
She replayed the day.
Hostile panthers. Nostalgic campfire. Children who reminded her of Kito. Nyx's attempt at humor. Three young panthers who'd called her mark beautiful.
Small bright spots in an otherwise dark day.
But underneath it all: the knowledge.
Both tribes wanted her gone.
Both councils were meeting.
Both chiefs would lose everything if this continued.
Faelyn got up.
Moved to the dwelling opening.
Looked out at the dark village below.
A few lights flickered. Fires burning low. Shadows moving along distant bridges.
The panther village at rest.
Beautiful. Foreign. Not home.
Voices drifted up from below.
Panthers on night patrol.
Normal conversation—they didn't know she was listening forty feet above.
