54. Aria

The faint moonlight filtering through the window traced the contours of Atticus’s face. He lay beside me, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm that I’d never seen before. Since we met, our lives had been turbulent and filled with danger.

The scars that once marred his features had faded, just as those engraved into our past. Even the silver streak in his hair seemed less like a bolt of lightning and more like a gentle glow.

As I lay my hand on his chest, our connected magic thrummed. It resonated within me, a river of light that didn’t just bind us but fed the very essence of our realm. This power that surged through us was more than energy; it was a promise, a vow to uphold the balance we had fought for.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” I murmured, though he slept on, unaware of my contemplation. “Like we’re finally at the center of it all.”

His presence, this bond, was the anchor that steadied me, that turned the torrent of my own magic into something beautiful, something that sang of life rather than destruction. The power within us pooled, a reservoir waiting to spill forth and nourish the world we were sworn to protect. We were the caretakers of renewal, the custodians of a harmony that eluded us for so long.

“Balance.” I sighed into the darkness. It wasn’t a mere concept anymore. We had become it.

As I nestled closer to him, I let myself be carried away by the river of light we created, content in the knowledge that when dawn broke, we would stand, guardians of a world reborn.

A while later, I slid out of bed, careful not to wake Atticus, and padded to the window. The view overwhelmed me, like it always did. The sun spilled over the horizon, a radiant flood that painted everything gold. It promised a fresh start.

The forest seemed to dance in the light, alive and vibrant. Birds chirped their morning songs, and somewhere, a brook babbled its eternal story. The peace we had fought for pulsed through every leaf and twig. It was our victory made real, tangible in the thriving green and the clear blue sky.

Even with this serenity wrapping around me, my mind raced forward. There was still one thing left undone—the elders. That impeding conversation hung over me, a dark cloud on a perfect day.

I turned from the window, worry gnawing at me. They wouldn’t give in without a fight. They’d demand explanations, assurances. My stomach tightened at the thought.

We couldn’t put it off any longer.

I glanced back at Atticus. Even now, he was my rock. His strength, his defiance of tradition bolstered me. Whatever came our way, we’d face it together.

“Hey,” I said softly, brushing a kiss over his forehead to wake him. “It’s time.”

Atticus stirred, his eyelids fluttering like the wings of a butterfly testing the air. His ice-blue eyes found mine and we looked at each other, the world around us fading into a hush.

“Good morning,” he rasped.

“Morning,” I said as he brushed his thumb over my cheek. His touch soothed me, a reminder of the solid reality of his presence beside me.

I scooted closer to Atticus, seeking the solace of his warmth. My head found its place under his chin, fitting there as if it were meant to be. I burrowed into him. It was like sinking into a soft bed after a long day, like coming home after an excruciating journey.

Something inside me shifted, settled, like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. With Atticus, everything made sense. I was more than just Aria—I was part of an ‘us’, and that made all the difference.

“Feels right, doesn’t it?” His voice, still husky from sleep, vibrated through me, filling spaces I didn’t know were empty.

“More than right,” I answered, tilting my face up to look at him. “It’s like I’ve found a part of me I didn’t know was missing.”

He chuckled as he stroked my back. “I guess we’re both lucky then.”

“More than lucky.” I traced the line of one of his tattoos, the forest silhouette that seemed to come alive on his skin. “You’ve given me so much.”

“We did this together, you and me.” He squeezed me gently.

I felt the truth of those words down to my bones.

“Always,” he murmured, sealing the promise with a kiss to the top of my head.

Atticus’s lips moved to press against my cheek, soft and warm, tracing a path down to the curve of my neck.

“Alpha,” he murmured against my neck.

I smiled, though a flutter of unease stirred in me. “I’m not the alpha yet.”

He lifted his head, his ice-blue eyes locking onto mine. A confident grin played on his lips. “You will be soon enough. I had Lorian call a meeting with the elders.” He checked the clock on the wall. “One hour from now.”

The words sank in, and my heart skipped a beat. Their approval was the last step, the final seal on what we had fought for. Atticus’s confidence in me, his unwavering belief, steadied the nerves that threatened to fray.

“Thank you,” I whispered, reaching up to trace the silver streak in his hair, feeling the raw power of our connection humming beneath my fingertips.

His response was another kiss, this one lingering longer as he made his way down my neck. Each kiss was a promise, a shared understanding of all we were to each other. He paused at the collarbone, and I arched into him, lost in the sensation.

“Always together,” he murmured between kisses.

“Always,” I echoed, closing my eyes as our lips met.

A little over an hour later, I squared my shoulders and met the eyes of each elder. Miren, Corin, and Branan, stood among them, their faces carved from stone and distrust. The air crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on.

“Atticus,” I acknowledged without turning, feeling his approach before I saw him. He moved with controlled power, a silent force that demanded attention.

“Elders of the Silver Claw,” he addressed the semi-circle. “We’re here for Aria.”

The elders’ eyes moved to him, then away. Respect battled with their fear, and neither side was winning. Atticus just stood there, unbothered, a rock against their storm.

“Her strength is clear,” he continued, steady as the ground beneath us. “She leads because she must.”

Miren stepped closer, barely masking his disdain. “You dare come here before us. You, a rogue, a shifter with no pack, and talk to us of leadership. You know nothing of leadership.” He cast a scornful gaze at the other elders, his cronies Corin and Branan nodding in approval. “This isn’t tradition,” he spat.

Some murmured their agreement, while others in the group appeared to be giving thought to Atticus’s statement.

“Traditions can change,” Atticus said. Shadows clung to him like faithful hounds, ready to leap at his command.

Miren stood tall, his shoulders pulled back, radiating an air of self-righteous anger. “You have no business here, rogue. Take your leave. As the alpha of Silver Claw, I believe it is necessary to exile Aria Winters from our pack. Her actions foster division within the pack. If she wants to lie with the rogue, she might as well join their ranks.”

Even Corin and Branan looked uncomfortable at his outburst. The circle shifted, unease spreading through them like wildfire. They could feel the shift in power, the inevitable tide turning toward us.

“You are not the rightful alpha. Aria’s time never ended,” Atticus said, his stance as immovable as mine. “It continues now, stronger than ever.”

“Atticus,” I whispered over the crackling tension. He nodded once, his ice-blue eyes never leaving the semi-circle as he stepped beside me.

“Elders,” he said in a low rumble that rolled through the clearing. “We stand before you not to ask permission but to affirm what is already evident. Aria has not only earned her title through trial and tribulation but through the unwavering strength and wisdom she has shown in protecting this pack.”

The elders shuffled on their feet, their discomfort plain. Miren sneered from his position. The others exchanged glances, silent conversations passing. Their reluctance to accept what stood before them was almost tangible.

Silas, the oldest among them, with a face like weathered leather and scars crisscrossing his muzzle, moved forward. His gruff voice broke the uneasy silence.

“Atticus Thorne, you know the ways of our governance. Power is not simply taken, it must be given, and Alpha Miren is right. Aria...” He stopped, eyes moving to mine before returning to Atticus. “Aria’s time has passed.”

Miren’s gloating stare penetrated my skin, and I felt a surge of anger at the old elder’s words, but I held it back, letting my stance speak for me. Beside me, Atticus’s face hardened, a visual chill spreading through his ice-blue stare. Without a word, shadows began to emanate from his form, swirling around him like dark tendrils reaching out into the twilight.

Silence stretched, a taut thread ready to snap. I locked gazes with each elder in turn, daring them to hold my gaze.

Atticus was still as stone beside me, the shadows clinging to him becoming more pronounced with every passing second. We didn’t need words; our presence alone was a challenge they could not ignore.

“Her time has not passed,” Atticus said, low and unwavering. “It was stolen. Now, it is restored. Not just by her right but by her might. You know the power we wield. It is not a threat, it is a reality.”

The shadows around him grew denser, almost pulsing with his every word. I stood beside him, feeling the shift in the air as the elders looked at each other with unease.

Silas’s eyes darted to mine, then to the ground, and back to Atticus. The rest followed suit, their discomfort clear. They knew what we could do, the raw force of nature we could unleash.

“Is there anything else you wish to question?” Atticus’s tone remained calm, but the potential behind it was palpable.

No one spoke. The balance of power was tipping, and they felt it.

Silas stepped forward, his eyes on the ground. They were beaten, and he knew it. “We acknowledge Aria’s claim.”

My spine straightened with triumph.

Miren moved to argue, but Silas simply shook his head, “Enough. He is right Miren. Aria is a powerful shifter in her own right, together… Together, they’re unstoppable. We fought to preserve the old ways, but the winds are shifting. Change is unavoidable, even traditions evolve. Let it go, Miren.” He turned to address the others gathered.

“Let it be known that Aria Winters leadership is reinstated, not out of tradition, but out of recognition of her strength and the power she wields alongside Atticus Thorne,” he continued.

The words were out there, floating in the clearing for all to hear. My chest swelled with pride, and I stared at each elder in turn. They looked away, one by one.

I took a step toward them. “I take on this mantle not to rule through terror, but to guide us to prosperity.” My voice carried across the clearing, strong and clear. “Let it be known, I will protect this pack with all the power at my disposal, from any threat, within or without.”

Silence followed my declaration. Then, almost as one, the elders nodded. The meeting was over. The future was mine, and ours.

As the last of the elders turned their backs to me, the rustling of leaves and hurried footsteps was all that filled the clearing. They couldn’t leave fast enough, their murmurs lost in the distance.

Atticus’s hand found mine, his grip firm yet reassuring. “They’re afraid of us.”

“Let them be,” I replied. The sight of their retreating forms etched into my memory. “If fear is what ensures the safety and unity of our pack, then let it be the flame that keeps the darkness at bay.”

We walked, the underbrush crunching beneath our steady strides. The trees arched above us, silent witnesses to the change that had just swept through our ranks.

“Are you ready for this?” Atticus asked, never looking away from the path ahead.

I glanced at him, feeling the tug of my new title with each step we took. “I was born ready.”

He smiled, a flash of white in the dim light. “That’s my girl.”

The canopy rustled as if in agreement, the leaves whispering secrets only they understood. Our hands remained locked, a tangible connection in the midst of so much uncertainty.

“Things will be different now,” I murmured.

“Change is the law of life,” he replied. “We’re the enforcers.”

I nodded, feeling the truth in his words. The mantle of leadership wasn’t just about power; it was about guiding our pack to a future where alarm didn’t rule us. It was about making hard choices, standing firm against opposition, and maybe, just maybe, finding a balance between strength and compassion.

“Let’s make them proud,” I said, squeezing his hand.

“Let’s make ourselves proud,” he corrected.

Atticus and I walked the edge where our territories merged, our steps synchronized. His hand brushed mine, a touch that said everything without a word. Love. Unity. A silent pact to protect this land we ruled.

“Remember how these trees looked not long ago?” I asked, glancing up at the canopy of leaves. So different from the devastation I’d caused that had left the trees bare and broken.

“Couldn’t forget if I tried,” he replied. “Look at them now.”

“Thriving,” I said, smiling. The forest had transformed around us, evidence of nature’s resilience and our efforts to restore balance.

“Like they were never touched by war,” Atticus added. There was pride in his tone, mixed with a hint of awe for the rapid healing.

“Exactly,” I agreed, pressing my feet firmly against the ground under my boots. It was solid, full of life. The trees stood tall, their trunks wide and strong. No more scars from past battles. No more echoes of pain in the bark.

“Seems like the world is breathing easy again,” Atticus observed, stopping for a moment to look around. “Peace is a good look on it.” His ice-blue eyes met mine, and we shared a knowing look before continuing our walk.

“Peace suits you too,” I teased lightly, bumping his shoulder with mine.

His laughter, rare and deep, filled the space under the trees. “Maybe it does at that. Maybe it does.”

“Listen to that,” I said, pausing to tilt my head. The air vibrated with the life around us, the chirping of birds perched in the newborn greenery, the scurrying of forest critters among the underbrush.

Atticus nodded, his ice-blue eyes scanning the branches above us. “It’s a whole new song. One we helped write.”

“Hard to believe this was once silent,” I murmured.

“Let’s keep it alive,” he replied, extending his hand toward me.

I placed my palm against his, feeling the familiar jolt of our combined energies. We walked on, our strides matching, our focus sharp as we poured our magic into the land.

“Remember the pattern,” Atticus instructed. Our hands moved in unison, drawing invisible lines across the ground. Threads of our power wove, stitching a protective veil over our territory.

“I could do it blindfolded,” I shot back.

He smirked. “I don’t doubt it.”

The hum of magic grew, a soft buzz that only we could hear. It wrapped around us, an unseen force pushing gently against my skin.

“Think it’ll hold?” I asked, glancing at Atticus.

“Against anything that dares to try us,” he answered fiercely. “This shield is more than magic. It’s our essence.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Peace, at last. We’d make sure it lasted.

Atticus halted abruptly. He stood still, eyes closed, a frown creasing his brow as if listening to a faint whisper only he could hear. I watched him, silent, knowing better than to interrupt when he connected to the land this way.

“Feel it?” he said at last.

“Feel what?”

“The heart,” he replied without opening his eyes.

I stepped closer, placed my hand on the ground beside his feet, and closed my eyes. Beneath the layers of soil and root, there it was, a subtle throbbing, the land’s own rhythm. “I feel it.”

“Good,” he answered. “Let’s weave that into the shield.”

My power reached out, seeking his, intertwining with the energy that flowed from him like a river of light. The air around us shimmered, a visual echo of our magic at work.

“Keep it steady,” he instructed. “Here goes.” Atticus’s brow furrowed deeper, the silver streak in his hair seeming to glow.

The shield sprang up around us, invisible but palpable. It was like setting loose a beast of pure force. It surged along the border of our lands, a barrier against those who didn’t belong.

“Pack members can pass?” I asked, ensuring our intentions held firm within the spell work.

“Like it’s not even there. For others...” His lips curled into a half-smile. “They won’t know what hit ’em.”

I grinned at him. “Or rather, what they can’t hit.”

Standing up, Atticus brushed dirt from his knees, watching the space where our magic had just been at work. “It’ll hold.”

“And it will adapt to the pack’s needs, right?”

“Expand, contract, whatever’s required. This is their sanctuary, after all.”

“Ours too,” I added.

“Ours too,” he agreed, taking my hand. “Come on, let’s finish it.”

Hand in hand, we walked on.

We moved through the forest, the birds serenading us with a symphony of chirps and tweets. A chipmunk darted across our path, its tiny paws kicking up leaves.

“Look at them,” I said, pausing to let a butterfly flit from my open palm to a nearby bloom.

“Who?” Atticus asked, following the creature’s flight.

“Everyone. Everything. They know what we’re doing for them.”

“Of course, they do.” He smiled, watching as the trees seemed to stand a bit taller in our wake.

I caught my reflection in a stream we passed, the silver of my hair blending with the sunlight filtering through the canopy. “This will be our legacy,” I murmured, not just to him but to the forest.

“Which part?” he asked, stepping beside me, his shadow merging with mine on the water’s surface.

I gestured to the thriving greenery around us. “A sanctuary not just for our kind, but for all who seek refuge and balance.”

He considered this. “It’s a good legacy to leave.”

Atticus’s hand found mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a soft caress.

“A place where magic and nature exist in harmony, where every life is valued. We’ve fought hard for this peace,” he whispered.

I nodded, feeling the truth of his words resonate deep within me. We kept walking until the forest opened up to reveal a small hill. We climbed it together, needing no words between us.

At the top, we stopped and took in the view. Miles of land stretched before us, alive and pulsing with a rhythm that matched the steady beat of our hearts.

I swept my hand toward the horizon. “It’s more than we ever hoped for.”

“More than most can imagine,” Atticus added. He turned to me, ice-blue eyes serious. “Here, we’re guardians. This land, these creatures... they rely on us.”

“We will protect them,” I promised. “With everything we have.”

The sun climbed, its rays spilling over the land, warming the earth beneath our feet. The light caught the edges of our invisible shield, a soft hum vibrating through the air as it solidified.

“Done,” Atticus said steadily. He stood beside me, shoulders squared, the muscles in his cheek working slightly as he surveyed the fruits of our labor.

“Look at it. Can you believe we’ve actually accomplished this?” I scanned the horizon where the boundary of our sanctuary now lay strong and unyielding.

He turned to face me, the silver streak in his hair catching the sunlight. “I can. It’s real. Our dream for peace...”

“Protection,” I added, stepping closer to him.

“Prosperity,” he finished. He kissed me then, softly, and we watched the new day dawn, casting long shadows that retreated like specters before the advancing light. In that silence, filled only by the sounds of the waking forest, we knew our dedication had forged something lasting.

“An era of peace,” I whispered, almost afraid to break the tranquility.

The forest was quiet, the kind of hush that settles after a long-fought battle. We found ourselves at the stone, the ancient monolith standing defiantly among the trees. Its surface, marred by dark runes, seemed out of place in the tranquil woods.

“Philesia,” I whispered as the being shimmered into view beside the relic. She was all light and wisdom, an ethereal presence that always seemed to calm the storm within me.

“Aria, Atticus,” she said. “You have done well.”

She looked at us with eyes that held the cosmos, and pride swelled. It was not the boastful kind but the deep satisfaction of knowing we’d overcome the darkness.

“Your path has been hard-fought,” Philesia continued, her form casting a soft glow on the stone’s sinister carvings. “Know this: from the gods’ realm, I watch over you. Always.”

“Thank you,” I managed, finding comfort in her promise.

A chuckle broke the silence, and I turned to see the seer approaching. His purple cat lounged on his shoulder, its tail flicking idly. He stopped before us, his lips upturned in an enigmatic smile.

“Change is on us,” he said, eyes glinting. “The winds speak of it.”

“Is that so?” I asked, my tone edged with curiosity.

“Indeed.” He nodded, and Patches purred, his eyes catching the light. “A great shift in the world’s fabric.”

Atticus stood beside me, his hand finding mine. We faced these harbingers of wisdom. Their words were cryptic, yet they hinted at a peace we had only dreamed of, a future that was ours to shape.

“Balance,” Philesia said in that melodious tone of hers. “It’s not just about ending fights. With balance truly restored, Caius and others like him have no purpose left.”

Her voice carried the weight of an ancient song, one that spoke of healing and endings. The glow around her seemed to pulse with every syllable, casting an ethereal light on the stone’s carved runes.

I looked at Atticus. His eyes, those deep pools of ice-blue, met mine. He gave a slight nod, a silent cue. It was my turn to act, to seal what we had fought for.

I focused on the cyclone brewing within me, the electric charge that responded to my call, to my need. I raised my hand toward the sky, feeling the build-up of energy tingling against my skin.

A crackle split the silence, a sound so sharp it could cut through bone. A bolt of lightning answered my call, a pure white streak that cut the gloom above. I directed it straight at the stone, the symbol of our past suffering.

With a roar, it struck, splitting the rock in two. Chips and dust flew, a cloud of debris marking the end of an era. The halves fell away from each other, crumbling into nothingness as if the world itself rejected their tainted legacy.

“Goodbye,” I whispered, watching the remnants of darkness fade. There was no room for it in our world anymore. Not now, not ever again.

The earth groaned as a fissure cracked open where the stone once stood. I watched, my hand still clasped in Atticus’s, as the darkness seemed to drain away into the depths of the soil. The ground reclaimed what was left of Caius’s tainted legacy, transforming it into something pure, a symbol of renewal.

“Look,” Atticus said. He followed the shadows that started to stir around the edges of the fissure.

I looked from the broken ground to the spectral figures emerging into the twilight. Ghosts, lost and bound to the stone’s dark influence, now freed by the lightning’s cleansing strike. They moved with a grace that belied their turbulent past, a silent procession returning to the embrace of the ground that had birthed them.

“Go in peace,” I whispered.

“Your fight is over,” Atticus added, his tone respectful, almost reverent.

We stood witness to the end of an era of suffering, our presence a final acknowledgment of the lives that had been intertwined with ours in struggle and strife. With each spirit that vanished into the ground, the air grew lighter.

A chill ran down my spine as I spotted Lorian’s spirit among the others. He hovered near, a silent sentinel of the past. His ethereal form was familiar, like the echo of a song I once knew all the words to but could only hum now.

“Goodbye, Lorian,” I said, tears blurring my vision. “Thank you.”

His ghostly lips curved into a gentle smile, and he nodded before fading away with the rest. It was the end of a story written in blood and sacrifice, a farewell to a friend who had been more than just an ally.

Atticus squeezed my hand, his touch grounding me. I turned to him, found his ice-blue eyes soft with his own unshed tears.

“Let’s go back to the others,” he suggested.

We walked side by side, leaving behind the site where darkness had once reigned. As we approached, the members of the Silver Claw and former Crimson Fang pack greeted us. Their faces were open, welcoming. It was surreal, this harmony where there had once been enmity.

“Look at them,” I murmured to Atticus as we watched wolves from both packs mingle, their laughter genuine, their barriers nonexistent.

“Who would have thought?” Atticus replied, his tone carrying a note of wonder.

“Family. That’s what you wanted to build, isn’t it?”

“Family,” he echoed, nodding. “Built on respect and trust, not fear.”

“Or power,” I added.

He looked over our pack members. “We’ve accomplished so much.”

“Because of you,” I said, but he shook his head.

“Because of us. You and me.”

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

“Come on,” Atticus said, gesturing toward the gathering. “Let’s join our family.”

His use of ‘our’ filled me with warmth. We moved forward, joining the pack, welcomed by grins and nods. This unity was our victory.

I stepped into the circle, Atticus at my side. We watched as our pack, our chosen family, laughed and worked with each other. Wolves of the Silver Claw and Crimson Fang, once enemies, now bonded by choice, not just by blood or survival. They built shelters, hunted as one, their voices rising in a chorus of unity.

Mia caught my eye from across the clearing. She was with Ilaric, their fingers intertwined, their smiles bright in the waning light. Seeing them together, so full of hope, made something inside me stir.

I nudged Atticus, nodding toward the pair.

He grinned. “They remind me of us.”

“Is that a good thing?” I teased.

“Best thing ever,” he replied, pulling me closer.

Mia called out, waving us over.

We crossed the clearing, each step taking us farther into this new world we were shaping. When we reached them, Mia’s smiled widened.

“Can you believe it?” she asked, gesturing at the harmonious scene around us. “This feels like a dream.”

“The best kind,” Ilaric said as he stared at Mia with so much love in his eyes.

“Let’s make sure it doesn’t end,” I said, my hand finding Atticus’s.

“Absolutely,” Atticus agreed. “This is just the beginning.”

“Thanks to both of you,” Mia said, her eyes shining with gratitude.

“It was a group effort,” I countered. “We all played our part.”

“True.” Ilaric nodded. “But the two of you led the way.”

“Speaking of leading,” Atticus said, looking around. “We should probably start organizing a pack run.”

“Right behind you,” Ilaric said, stepping forward.

“Wait,” Mia called. “Before we go back to work, let’s take a moment. Just... breathe.”

“Sounds perfect,” I replied.

I stood still, taking in the sight of my pack. They were talking, laughing, working to rebuild what had been broken. Their faces were bright with hope and strength. We’d all seen dark days, fought hard battles, but now we looked at each other not as survivors, but as family.

I rested my head on Atticus’s shoulder. “They’re amazing.”

He nodded, his blue eyes reflecting pride. “They are. We did this with each other.”

Around us, the ruins of the past were giving way to new structures. The pack moved like a well-oiled machine, each individual playing their part in the restoration. It was more than just rebuilding homes; it was about laying down the foundations for the future we all wanted.

The days that followed were busy, but full of a warmth that went beyond the heat of the sun. We shared meals, stories, and the kind of laughter that healed old wounds. Every morning greeted us with the promise of progress, every evening closed with the satisfaction of a day well spent.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Atticus asked one afternoon as we paused to watch the sunset paint the sky in hues of gold and crimson.

“It feels right,” I answered as the wind carried the sounds of contentment from our pack. We all had dreams, once whispered in secret, now spoken aloud with confidence.

The sun dipped lower, bringing the night. Atticus and I found ourselves at the edge of our territory, where the forest met the open plains.

“Tomorrow we start patrols again,” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied, squeezing his hand. “There will be more to face, more decisions. Challenges.”

We both knew it was true. The peace was fresh, fragile even. It wouldn’t take much to tip the scales back into frenzy. We were different now, stronger.

“Whatever comes,” Atticus began, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand, “we’ll handle it.”

His presence, that raw and commanding aura, made me believe it down to my bones. We had something no external force could break.

“Come on,” I finally said, tugging gently on his hand. “Let’s get back. They’ll wonder where we’ve wandered off to.”

“Lead the way, Alpha,” he replied with a wry grin.

“Only if you promise not to use that shadow trick to scare the pups again.”

“Scout’s honor,” he chuckled, but we both knew he never had been a scout.

We walked back toward the core of our territory. Our home awaited, vibrant and alive with the spirit of our united family. Whatever tomorrow brought, we would meet it head-on, as we always did.