Lorenzo
The night was not quiet when we returned.
The lodge thrummed with life, with voices raised in celebration. The younger wolves laughed too loudly, their joy spilling into rough play and songs carried on the night air. The older wolves sat steady in their circles, eyes watchful, drinks in hand, their approval quieter but no less powerful.
We had hunted well. The pack was fed, the bonds between us reaffirmed, our strength tested and proven. By all accounts, the night should have ended in satisfaction.
But my satisfaction did not come from the hunt.
It came from her.
Sindy.
She walked ahead of me, her shoulders tight, her chin raised, her defiance as sharp as the moonlight gilding her hair. She should have been broken by the run, by the bear, by the sheer force of the night pres
