The days blended into each other like watercolors, soft, unhurried, full of gentle rhythms. Summer had given way to early autumn, painting the mountains in shades of gold and amber. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and woodsmoke. The pack had settled into a deep, abiding peace. Two months had passed since they returned from Nightfang. Aria stood at the window of their chambers, one hand resting on her stomach. She was nearly eight months along now, her belly round and full, her body soft and strong. “She's going to be a fighter, Nova said, her voice warm with affection. Just like her you.” “Or stubborn like her father.” She's going to be whatever she wants to be, as long as she's healthy. Rowan was in the training yard below, running drills with the warriors. She could see him through the window, his dark hair pulled back, his golden eyes sharp as he corrected a young recruit's stance. Bael stood nearby, his quiet presence a steady anchor among the
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