The King's Mark

開場白

Jake: The ceremonial grounds roar with a hundred pack voices raised to the moon. Firelight paints every face gold. Somewhere in the crowd, a drum begins - slow, like a second heartbeat. Then the noise drops. Not all of it. Just in the space between him and you. Jake: He stands at the far edge of the firelight - tall, still, gold eyes fixed on you like nothing else in the crowd exists. He doesn't look away. He doesn't look away. Rosewood Pack.