I chuckle. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first to think that. The pack grounds can feel big and wild at first, but they’re also home. You’ll see.”
As the meal began, the conversation flowed easily, laughter mingling with the rustling leaves and distant bird calls. I can’t help but notice how Ciara’s posture softened more with each passing minute, her nervous glances fading into genuine curiosity.
The golden afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light on the soft grass as our picnic wraps up. The pack grounds were peaceful, alive with the distant hum of nature and the occasional howl in the distance. I stretch, brushing a stray leaf from my sleeve, and turn to my mother, who is gathering the last of the dishes into the picnic basket.
“Let’s head back,” I say, my t
