Wolves of the new dawn

Arriving

4 days later

*Freesia*

The journey through the wilderness has become a rhythm, a steady beat of footsteps and whispered conversations. With each passing day, I feel the weight of our past life lifting, replaced by a strange sense of belonging that I can’t quite place, maybe because as for now we are kind off suspended in the unknown. The trees around us are beginning to thin, and patches of sunlight break through the canopy, casting playful shadows on the ground.

As we walk, I notice the landscape shifting. The underbrush gives way to small plots of tilled earth, each one yielding green shoots that sway gently in the breeze. “This is where the pack grows food,” Torren explains, his voice a low murmur beside me. “We cultivate what we can in these harsh conditions, ensuring we’re not solely reliant on hunting.”

I stop to admire the sight. A few wildflowers peek through the soil, brightening the otherwise muted palette of greens and browns. “It’s beautiful,” I say, feeling a sense of hope blossom in my chest. The idea that this community can thrive here, against all odds, fills me with a sense of awe.

This also makes me realise the extent of the lies, we were told nothing Could live here, nothing but scrubs could grow here… the government has to know.

We continue our trek, and soon, a couple of men appear on the horizon, their figures silhouetted against the late afternoon sun. As they draw closer, I can see their faces, weathered, marked by hard work. They look tense. When they spot Torren, their demeanor shifts. Relaxation washes over them, and they break into wide smiles.

“Torren!” one of them calls out, his voice booming with joy. “You’ve returned!” They approach with open arms, clapping him on the back and exchanging hearty laughter. I watch, feeling a touch of envy at the ease of their bond, wishing I could have that kind of connection with someone.

I step closer to Raylee, who’s watching the scene with the same mixture of curiosity and admiration. “Is this what you expected?” I ask her, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” she replies, a hint of wonder in her tone. “But it feels… good.”

Torren introduces us to the men, their names tumbling out in quick succession: Jace and Malik. They greet us warmly, their eyes flicking between Torren and us, a silent understanding passing among them. “You’re safe here,” Jace assures, his smile genuine. “Come on, let’s get you to the compound.”

As we follow them, the path opens into a larger clearing, revealing a compound that feels alive with activity. Wooden structures stand sturdy against the backdrop of towering cliffs, and laughter dances through the air like music. Children dart between the buildings, their voices ringing with unrestrained joy. It’s a stark contrast to the desolation we’ve traversed, and I can hardly believe the life unfolding around me.

“Everyone's been hoping for your return,” Malik says, his voice filled with pride. “Praying to the Goddess. You’ve come at a good time; we’re preparing for a harvest Moon festival.”

A festival? The thought is foreign yet enticing. I can feel Raylee’s excitement radiating beside me, and for a moment, I forget the dangers we’ve faced. Perhaps this is where we can finally find peace.

We make our way through the compound, greeted by friendly faces and welcoming smiles. The warmth is palpable, and I can’t help but feel a flicker of hope igniting within me. I glance at Torren, whose expression remains serious but softened by the familiarity of his surroundings. He seems at home here, and the sight fills me with a sense of comfort.

As we approach the main building, Torren pauses, looking over his shoulder at us. “I need to find Raze,” he says, his brows knitting together slightly.

“He’s with Jo.” Someone tells him.

“Who’s Raze?” I ask, curiosity piqued.

“The Alpha,” he replies, an edge of urgency in his tone.

Before I can press further, he strides ahead, leading us into the main building. The interior is warm and inviting, decorated with handmade crafts and photographs that tell stories of the lives that have been lived here. I can’t help but smile at the sense of history embedded in the walls.

We traverse narrow hallways, the sounds of laughter and chatter echoing around us. My heart races with anticipation, and I catch Raylee’s hand, squeezing it for reassurance. She gives me a small smile, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.

Finally, we reach a door at the end of the hall, and Torren pushes it open. The room is softly lit, filled with the scent of lavender and the faint sound of lullabies. My eyes land on a large bed in the corner, where a girl lies sleeping, her features delicate and serene, but her skin is flushed with fever.

And then, as if sensing our presence, a man rises from beside the child. He is strikingly handsome, his features rugged yet refined, a wildness in his dark hair that speaks of untamed freedom. But it’s his eyes that capture my attention; they’re deep and intense, and when they meet mine, I feel a jolt of recognition, like a spark igniting in my chest.

“Mate,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with awe.