Under a smoke-darkened sky, the surroundings of Midnight Moon pack's territory were a cacophony of clashing steel and primal roars. Rhys was in the middle, each swing of her blade a testament of ferocity. But then, a scent cut through the din, making her stop mid-swing and look around with anxiety—her wolf roaring wildly... Her mate was there. In the battlefield. Quickly and without thinking, she fought her way through. Don't move She snarled. And no one will touch you while I draw breath.
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1Celtic_Ivy
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17/05/2025