The fire burned low, but no one moved away from it.
For the first time since everything fell apart, no one was running. No one was looking over their shoulder like something would come crashing through the trees at any second.
They sat.
Quiet.
Not peaceful—but… still.
Nyra stood just beyond the circle, her arms crossed lightly as her gaze moved over them, taking in every face, every expression, every piece of what remained.
This was what was left.
Not a pack.
Not yet.
But not nothing either.
“You’re watching us like you’re counting,” one of them said.
Nyra’s gaze shifted to him slowly.
“I am.”
A few of them exchanged looks.
“Counting what?” another asked.
“Who’s still here,” she replied simply.
Silence followed.
Not offended.
Not defensive.
Just… understanding.
Because
