All Chapters of Don't Go, I Regret: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The wind howled across the northern plains. Snow whipped through the pines like ghosts that hadn’t learned to rest.Grace tightened her cloak and adjusted the saddle on her mare. The road behind her stretched thin and gray. The path ahead was unfamiliar—but at least it was hers.A young boy ran up beside her, breathless. “Envoy Nightclaw! The elders in Red Creek say they’ll meet tomorrow at dusk.”Grace nodded. “Good. Tell them I’ll bring the healer's supplies myself.”The boy hesitated. “You don’t have to do that. We can send someone.”“I want to see the pups myself.”He nodded and sprinted back toward camp.Grace mounted, riding toward the cluster of tents pitched near a frozen stream.The campfire crackled as her guards stirred soup and sharpened blades. Wolves from five different packs milled about, united only by the woman who now bore no title—only respect.She dismounted and approached the healer’s tent.Inside, a Riverbend wolf with a missing eye l

At dawn, the ancestral courtyard shimmered with dew. The council waited in a circle of stone, dressed in ceremonial cloaks that hadn’t been worn since Ethan’s coronation.Grace stepped forward in worn leathers, not robes.She stood in silence.Elder Merton lifted the silver coronet. “This was forged for the mate of an Alpha. But now, we offer it to the Alpha in spirit.”Grace didn’t move.Aldric approached. “You don’t need a crown to lead. But Ironclaw needs to know you’ve accepted it.”Grace looked around—faces lined with age, regret, and fragile hope.“I left,” she said. “And I didn’t plan to return.”Murmurs stirred.“I lost everything inside these walls. My mate. My son. My future.”Silence again.“But beyond these gates, I saw pups with no homes. Packs at war over stolen grain. Wolves with no one to speak for them.”She stepped closer to the circle. “Ironclaw was supposed to be a beacon. We let it become a warning.”Elder Merton bowed his hea

The snow came early.By mid-morning, Ironclaw’s ridges were whitewashed, wind howling through the gaps in the outer wall. Grace stood by the gate, watching supplies get loaded onto a cart bound for the frostline villages.A horn sounded once—short and sharp.Moments later, a bloodied scout stumbled through the snow, one arm bandaged hastily with bark and twine.Grace rushed to him. “What happened?”He collapsed to his knees. “Attack. Ice trolls on the northern pass.”Aldric appeared at her side. “The trolls haven’t crossed in two years.”“They have now,” the scout gasped. “Would’ve torn me apart, but—”“But what?” Grace asked.The scout looked up. “A wolf saved me. Tawny. Scarred. He drove them off alone. Then dragged me three miles through the ice.”Aldric’s jaw tightened. “He said his name?”“No. Just left this.”The scout reached into his torn cloak and pulled out a pendant—dented, cracked.The moon-crest.Grace froze.The metal was still

The Moon Festival returned to Ironclaw for the first time in four years.Children raced through the courtyard with paper lanterns shaped like wolves and stars. Merchants spilled into the plaza. The forge burned hot, music floated from the hall, and laughter—real, unbroken laughter—rose like dawn from stone.Grace stood atop the watchtower, lantern in hand, dressed in deep blue robes stitched with silver thread.Aldric appeared at her side, breathless. “The courtyard’s full. Some say we’ll run out of wine before midnight.”“Let them drink it all,” Grace said softly. “They’ve earned it.”He nodded, then gestured to the lantern in her hands. “You’re going to say something, aren’t you?”“I have to.”He hesitated. “Will you mention him?”“I have to,” she repeated.Aldric stepped back, leaving her alone beneath the open sky.---She descended the stairs and stepped onto the stone platform in the center of the square. The crowd hushed as she lifted the lantern

The bell rang once—clear, high, and full of promise.Grace stood at the center of Ironclaw’s courtyard, surrounded by banners of twin wolves beneath a rising sun. Children laughed as they poured through the gates of Johnson’s Haven, their arms full of books and lanterns.Aldric joined her on the steps. “They’re early.”“They’re excited,” Grace said with a smile. “It’s their first day.”He nodded toward the new mural painted across the academy’s arch. “You approved that?”The painting showed two wolves—one silver, one tawny—standing beneath a flowering dogwood.Grace’s gaze lingered on it. “It’s not just about who we were. It’s about what we became.”A voice called from the crowd. “Luna Grace!”She turned as a small pup ran up, holding a handmade flower crown.“Miss Tora said we should thank the one who made this school,” the girl said breathlessly. “So… thank you.”Grace knelt, accepting the crown with a steady hand. “No, little one. Thank you—for filling