The vehicle was an ordinary pack transport — functional, anonymous, and cold. It was the exact kind of beat-up utility truck used for routine supply runs and low-ranking administrative transfers. It wasn't a loud, overt insult from the council. It was simply an absolute absence of consideration, which, in the rigid hierarchy of the Ashborne pack, was its own devastating kind of statement.
Sera carried her first cardboard box out to the gravel lot at precisely seven-fifteen.
The morning air arrived cold, flat, and grey. A few pack members were crossing the grounds on their own early business. The moment they noticed the outcast girl hauling her life away, most of them found somewhere else to look — suddenly fascinated by the frost on the grass or the horizon.
She turned on her heel and w
