By midmorning, the Woodland pack house no longer felt like itself. A place that was calm and peaceful by noon, because usually everyone would go about their businesses, today it was buzzing all because of one person.
What had begun as quiet excitement at Donna’s return grew into something far larger, something celebratory enough to spill into every corridor and courtyard.
Wolves moved with lighter steps, laughing and gisting with themselves, voices overlapped in a way that felt almost musical.
Someone dragged out old banners. Someone else ordered the kitchens to prepare far more food than necessary. More ingredients had to be brought in by some other members of the pack.
By the time the sun reached its highest point, the pack house looked as though it were welcoming a new year rath
