Summer settles in quietly, like it doesn’t want to be noticed.
The days stretch longer, the nights warmer, and everything around the pack house turns green and restless.
The air hums with life—birds calling from the trees, insects buzzing lazily in the tall grass, wolves pacing the forest edge like they’re waiting for something to break.
Nothing does.
At least, not on the surface.
My days fall into a pattern so steady it almost feels unreal. Wake early. Train. Eat. Train again. Rest when I’m told to. Repeat. The routine is meant to ground me, I think. To give me something solid while everything else stays uncertain.
It works. Mostly.
The tension with the pack members has died down slowly. Some begin to warm up to me and greet me when passing by. Some even strike up small conversati
