The refugees settled into Shadowfang, and slowly, life began to find a new rhythm.
The Meteor pack survivors were grateful—desperately, achingly grateful. They helped with the work, sharing their skills, telling stories of their lost home. They built new huts alongside Shadowfang's warriors. They planted gardens, hunted, cooked, mended. They did whatever was needed, asking nothing in return.
But beneath the gratitude was grief. They had lost everything—their territory, their belongings, their loved ones. Some had lost mates, children, parents. The weight of that loss was visible in their eyes, in the way they moved, in the silences that fell when others laughed.
Elara saw it in their eyes every day. The hollow look of those who had survived when others hadn't. She recognized it—had seen
