The morning came soft and silver.
Mist hung low over the southern edge of the territory, the ground still damp, the air carrying that clean, washed scent that followed a night of heavy rain. The storm had passed, but its work remained—fallen branches, mud-caked paths, and the quiet exhaustion of a pack that had earned its rest.
But the mood was different.
Lighter.
The visiting wolves were already moving through the camp, not with the hesitant caution they’d carried for weeks, but with the steady rhythm of those who had worked alongside others and found something worth staying for.
Alden walked the perimeter with Rowan, boots sinking slightly into soft earth.
“They’re rebuilding faster than I expected,” Rowan said, watching a group reinforce a shelter wall together.
“They’re not just
