The noise and his scent was what pulled me away from where l was sitting. It wasn’t the loud, angry sounds of wolves arguing, which I had learned to ignore in my time here.
This was happy noise bright shouts and high-pitched laughter coming from the open grounds behind the pack house. This noise was always there and l could recognize it from anyway as a parent myself but somehow this felt familiar.
I tried to stay where I was. I really did. But the sound felt like a magnet, and I ended up walking toward the field.
When I got close, I hid behind a thick oak tree so nobody would see me. I peeked out.
There was a group of people there, but I only saw two of them.
It was Astor. And next to him was a small girl, maybe five years old, with bright blonde hair bouncing around her sunny face.
