Ember the Voraxen's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The new pack-mate had barely settled beside her when a sharp call cut across the canopy. Ember's ears swiveled. Another. Then a third. Voices she did not know, testing the far edge of her range. Her gut went cold and clear. Rivals had smelled the change in her trees. She moved fast across the branches, her mate close behind. At the old ironwood that marked her boundary, she dug her claws deep into the bark. Golden resin welled up in the fresh slashes, bright as fire against the dark wood. She tore again, lower, then leapt to the next trunk and did the same. Her mate followed her pattern, leaving his own marks beside hers. The rival calls came closer. Ember planted herself on a high limb where every glistening claw mark caught the light below. She let out one long, low cry. Her mate echoed it. Two voices now, where one had stood for four seasons. The rival calls stopped. Brush shifted, then retreated. Ember's chest still burned, but the trees were quiet again. She turned to her mate. The range was theirs — and now they had to hold what two had claimed.