The second morning without Alden felt longer than the first.
Not because the pack faltered.
Because Lila noticed the space where he usually stood.
Near the training ring at sunrise.
At the healer’s den doorway midmorning.
Leaning against the west wall at dusk, listening more than speaking.
Absence, she had learned, did not always mean loss.
Sometimes it meant growth stretching farther than your arms could reach.
Still… she felt it.
Caleb did too.
He just hid it better.
Out beyond the known borders, Alden woke to unfamiliar birdsong.
Different trees. Different wind. Different scent on the air — less pine, more stone and dry grass.
Rowan was already awake, sharpening a blade out of habit more than necessity.
“You sleep?” Rowan asked without looking up.
“Some,” Alden replied.
