It had been a year since Lina first stepped into the Bluemoon Pack, though the word “stepped” still felt too controlled for what had truly happened. She had not entered with intention or choice, but through survival, carried by exhaustion and fear into a place that had never been meant for someone like her.Time had passed, but not in the way she expected. The forest no longer felt unfamiliar, the paths no longer confusing, and the structure of the pack no longer overwhelming. She had learned where to go, when to move, and how to exist within their rhythm.But belonging was something else entirely.The training ground stretched wide beneath the afternoon light, its surface marked by repeated use, worn down by discipline and consistency. The air carried the steady rhythm of movement, feet striking ground, controlled breathing, wood clashing against wood in sharp, measured intervals.Everything here had purpose.Everything except her.
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