One year later.
In Mood Frost City, at the lakeside children's home, I was teaching the little cubs to bake biscuits.
"Alpha Ash, my little bear's crooked," pouted a blonde wolf cub.
I crouched down and helped her reshape it: "There you go."
She gave me a delighted kiss and skipped over to the oven to wait.
Sunlight streamed through the glass windows, bathing the young werewolves' tender faces.
Watching this scene, a wave of warmth suddenly washed over me.
I had become the Alpha of Mood Frost City. Under my stewardship, the city flourished and prospered. With surplus funds, I established a welfare centre—the city's first.
I sought to heal my own wounds through this act.
Perhaps this is the cycle of life.
I lost my own child, yet became the guardian of so many others.
