Weeks passed in the valley.The days blurred together,not from exhaustion, but from rhythm. Wake. Eat. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. The pack moved like a single body, each wolf finding their place.Caleb and Elias built the cabin. It started as four walls, then grew a roof, then a door, then windows. They worked from dawn until the light faded, their hands calloused and raw, their breath visible in the cold morning air.Vera tended to the garden. She had found wild herbs and edible roots growing near the stream. She transplanted them carefully, creating a small patch of green near the cabin. It wasn't much, but it was something. It was hope.Rue patrolled the perimeter every day. She walked the same path , around the clearing, along the stream, up the ridge. She never complained. She never slacked. She never stopped watching.Marta cooked. She had always been good at making something from nothing. She turned dried meat and roots into stew, and she served it without needing thanks. The pa
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