The clearing behind the pack house had been decorated simply but thoughtfully. Wildflowers lined the edges, and the tall oaks above created a natural canopy, their leaves shimmering in the morning sun. A gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and the faint tang of the river nearby.
Crystal stood beside Dustin, her hand lightly brushing his. Bree, in Crystals mind, lay quietly, her fur gleaming in the sunlight. On the other side of the circle, Lizzy and Bane exchanged a glance, their hands briefly clasped in silent affirmation. The pack had gathered around them, sitting or standing in loose formation, anticipation and respect in every line of their posture.
One of the elder wolves, silver-haired and dignified, stepped forward. “Today,” he began, voice carrying across the clearing, “we ho
