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34. The Mill

Meave's eyes were narrowed as she looked over the map laid out on the large wooden table, her experienced mind piecing together the fragmented puzzle that was Avla's whereabouts. Her fingers traced the scent trail, a strong line of certainty that seemed to lead to the old abandoned mill on the pack property to the north. It was a remote location, desolate, and it whispered secrets of the past.

Thomas eyed Meave's conclusions with a touch of skepticism. "We were still at least ten miles out, Mom. I don't know about that," he protested, his voice tinged with doubt.

Meave's eyes flicked to Thomas, a mixture of annoyance and wisdom playing in their depths. "I've been on this planet double the time you've been alive, young one. Hush now," she chastised, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "They were walking a straight line to it, and as we all know, Yorgan and Talia aren't the smartest werewolves."

Gideon's eyes were stormy, his mind a whirlwind of emotions as he process
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