Aaron
I don’t notice what’s missing.
Not consciously.
Saturday settles into the packhouse with a different rhythm than the rest of the week. Less structure. Less necessity. Wolves move through shared spaces without agenda, without the invisible lines of duty pulling them from one point to the next. Training is optional. Meetings are informal. The systems are there, but they aren’t active.
This is what stability looks like when it’s trusted.
I move through it without escort, not because I don’t need one, but because today doesn’t require reminders of rank. Wolves acknowledge me without breaking stride. No one recalibrates their posture. No one lowers their voice.
That’s how I know the pack is at ease.
And yet...
I pause at the threshold of my office, one hand resting against the
