Riverstone Pack
The great hall of Riverstone was alive with a gentle warmth that evening. Golden light from the tall chandeliers spilled across stone walls engraved with ancient symbols, while laughter and soft conversation echoed beneath the high, arched ceiling. The scent of pinewood and freshly brewed tea lingered in the air, giving the place a rare feeling of peace.
Ember sat among them, hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture calm but her heart anything but. She still felt like a visitor in a place that was slowly becoming a sanctuary.
Charlotte, seated beside her mate Fred, leaned forward with an excited sparkle in her eyes.
“Ember, you should visit the Northpole Pack,” she said warmly. “It’s breathtaking — endless snowfields, silver mountains. You’d love it.”
Ember offered
