Fiona's POV
I didn’t know half of what to expect when Marella invited me.
Honestly, I braced for something stiff and....well uncomfortable. A gathering with the weight of council meetings? I pictured sharp eyes, forced smiles, and silence loaded with tension. I even wasted too much time fixing my hair, tugging at my sleeves like it would help. Yet, the second I stepped into the den they called the Hearth, every assumption fell flat.
Warmth.
Not just the heat from the fire — it was everywhere. The air smelled of stewed meat, crushed herbs, and the sharp bite of brewing mead. Warriors slouched on worn furs, laughing easily. Mothers stirred bubbling pots without a trace of the usual formality. Pups weaved around them in chaotic streaks of fur and laughter. The flames cast shifting gold ag
