CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE

The celebration was loud and happy. I stood with Angus, watching our pack. Ronan was surrounded by hunters, all asking questions.

“How did you know the stag would be there?” Finn asked.

“I read the signs,” Ronan said. “The wind, the broken branches. You can learn it too.”

“Will you teach us the hand signals?” another warrior asked.

“Tomorrow. At dawn,” Ronan promised.

A wave of approval went through the crowd. I felt Angus’s satisfaction through our bond. It was a warm, steady feeling.

Then, Mary stepped forward with a waterskin. “For you,” she said softly.

Ronan stopped talking. He looked at her, and the wall in his eyes seemed to lower. He took the skin, his fingers brushing hers. “Thank you, Mary.”

His voice was different. Softer. Not filled with pain.

I leaned into Angus. “He’s home,” I whispered.

Angus held me tighter. “No, my love. He’s here finally.”

Later, in our den, I turned to him. “You knew he could do this.”

“I hoped,” Angus said. “The war broke him. He had to fix himself