POV: Araya
The baby kicks again as Araya stands in the clearing behind the cabin. The morning air bites cold against her skin, but she barely notices. Her hand rests on her belly, feeling the small movements inside.
Lyra and Selvara stand before her, their expressions serious.
"What we're about to teach you," Lyra says, "is knowledge passed down through generations of Direwolves. These rites predate the packs. They're older than the Heartlands, older than the Alphas who rule them."
Selvara nods. "The packs abandoned these practices long ago. They rely on hierarchy and ceremony now. But we remember. We keep the old ways alive."
Araya listens, her curiosity piqued despite her exhaustion. "Why teach me this? I'm wolf-less. I can't shift."
"Can't you?" Lyra asks gently. She steps closer,
