The journey back to the Golden Shadow Pack was a bit more boring than I expected. The caravan moved slowly, the sound of hooves crunching against the dirt road mingling with the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. Stefano rode ahead, his posture rigid, as though the weight of the pack’s survival rested entirely on his shoulders. Rigz stayed close to me and his gaze sweeping the landscape with sharp attentiveness, always alert for potential threats.
As we approached the pack’s territory, many people were greeting us on the streets. The happy faces of the children seeing our carriage kind of gave me a bit of happiness.
“Luna!” someone called. I peeked at the small hole in the carriage and saw a group of children holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Stop the carriage for a while,” I dema
