[POV: Ruvan]
Snow crunched beneath his boots, and the wind howled mournfully in his ears—but those were the only sounds to be heard.
The wolflands weren't supposed to be silent.
Ruvan stood on the precipice of a familiar valley, on the same ledge where he once addressed legions of loyal wolves below. It was where banners of his bloodline had snapped in the intense winter storms, and where he had been worshipped, feared, and obeyed.
Now, at that moment, as he stared out across the white expanse, not even the wind bowed to him.
Below, the mountain forests stretched out in a tangled, monochrome quilt. The cities were gone. The roads, erased. The air reeked of emptiness.
"Where the hell is everyone?" he muttered.
'Gone,' one of the voices replied, oily with amusement.
Another added dryly, 'Or hiding from the feared Alpha King.'
'They can smell us by now!'
Ruvan's jaw clenched. He hated it when the voices talked like that, like they knew more than he did.
