FOUR

AVERY

Emberfall Pack did not feel like my old home. That was the first thing I noticed.

The territory was quieter, not empty but deliberate. Wolves moved with purpose instead of noise. There were no raised voices, no casual sparring in open fields, no sense of constant performance. Even the younger wolves stayed close to structures or elders, their energy contained rather than spilling everywhere. Order here was not enforced through dominance but expectation.

They watched me.

Not openly. Not unkindly. But I felt the weight of unfamiliar eyes as I followed the narrow path Rowan had indicated the night before. My temporary home sat near the outer ring of the territory, modest and clean, clearly prepared for situations like mine. Runaways. Refugees. Wolves starting over.

‘They don’t trust us,’ Lila observed.

‘They don’t know us,’ I replied. ‘That’s different.’

Still, my shoulders remained tense as I stepped farther into the pack’s inner grounds the next morning. Rowan had been clear. I was permitted to stay. Not welcomed. Not claimed. Permitted. The distinction mattered more than I wanted it to.

A patrol wolf named Kellan was assigned to orient me. He spoke little, but his presence wasn’t hostile. He showed me the boundaries I was allowed to cross freely and the ones that required permission. The training rings. The communal kitchens. The meeting hall carved directly into the stone ridge at the heart of Emberfall.

“Alpha Rowan prefers order,” Kellan said as we walked. “If you don’t cause problems, you won’t have any.”

“I’m not here to cause problems,” I said quietly.

He glanced at me once, then nodded. “Most aren’t.”

The pack clinic sat farther east, built into a natural slope where warm air rose from underground vents. The scent of herbs and antiseptic hit me immediately, familiar enough to make my chest loosen. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until that moment.

Mara had trained me once, years ago, when my old pack needed extra hands. I wasn’t a healer, not truly, but I knew how to clean wounds, take vitals, organize supplies. Useful skills carried weight in any pack.

The healer here was named Ilyra. She was older, her wolf calm and steady, her gaze sharp without being cruel.

“You have clinic experience?” she asked.

“Yes. Basic care. Inventory. Assisting.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to my stomach, then back to my face. No judgment. Just assessment.

“We can use you,” she said. “Light duty to start.”

Relief spread through me before I could stop it.

‘A place,’ Lila murmured.

‘A start,’ I agreed.

The work grounded me. Sorting dried herbs. Restocking bandages. Cleaning instruments. Wolves passed through with minor injuries, aches from training, the occasional child with a scraped knee. No one asked questions. No one pressed. For the first time since leaving, my body felt useful instead of fragile.

Rowan did not come to the clinic.

I felt him anyway. Not like a pull, but an awareness. A presence at the edge of my senses that made Lila stir restlessly.

‘He watches,’ she said once.

‘I know.’

I kept my distance.

At the end of the day, Ilyra dismissed me with a nod. “You’ll return tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

Outside, the sun dipped low, casting Emberfall in shades of fire and shadow. The pack moved as one, steady and contained. This place had rules. Boundaries. Expectations.

For the first time in a long while, that didn’t feel like a cage.

It felt like safety.

I rested a hand over my stomach as I walked back toward my home. “We’re okay,” I whispered softly.

‘We will be,’ Lila answered. ‘If we stay sharp.’

I lifted my chin and kept moving.

I was no longer running.

I was building something.