Time did not soften the ache.
It reshaped it.
Lila learned that in the first year away.
The place Seren took them to was far from any pack border—a quiet stretch of land cradled between mountains and forest, where the air smelled clean and the nights were silent enough to hear your own thoughts. There were no titles here. No politics. No expectations.
Only survival at first.
Then, slowly, living.
Alden grew strong.
Not overnight, not without struggle, but steadily. His lungs strengthened. His laughter came easy. By the time he was two, he ran through tall grass with the reckless confidence of a child who had never learned to doubt whether someone would catch him if he fell.
And Lila’s daughter—Elowen—was born under a soft summer rain, screaming with fury and life, her tiny fists al
