I flexed my leg after the healer finished. Pain flared hot but manageable. The pack moved around us with purpose, resetting defenses, carrying wounded to shelter, sharpening blades that had seen too much work. Their unity felt solid now, forged in these bloody hours by the river.
Later, when the rain eased to a drizzle, I found a quiet moment alone on a rocky shelf overlooking the water. The river had calmed somewhat, though it still carried evidence of the morning's slaughter downstream. I pulled Lila's little carved wolf from my pocket again and turned it over in my fingers. The wood had grown smooth, almost polished.
I thought about Thorne's determined steps and Elara's delighted squeals when they walked together. About Lila standing guard over them like a tiny sentinel. They were growing up in a world that wanted to consume them for power older than any of us. That truth sat like a stone in my gut.
