Elder Moonchild's smile is bittersweet, a conflicted expression that speaks volumes. "My child, the hybrids have appeared once again. It seems your sister is not satisfied with you on the throne. She sends her warriors to burn the border towns and steal their pups. She must be stopped."
My stomach tightens, and I lower my voice as I ask, "What kind of hybrids?" I can't hide the confusion in my tone—this wasn't something we were ever taught. I see the flicker of recognition in her eyes, but she doesn't comment on it. Instead, she answers, her voice steady, yet tinged with the weight of concern.
"They're still a mix of wolf and fire fox. Their scalding touch is what burned down two villages this morning, my queen."
