Caelan POV:
The forest knows I’m angry before I consciously name it.
It happens the moment I step into the border clearing, even the wind threading through the trees hesitates, carrying the layered scent of my pack, my territory, and the bond that now anchors both in a way that feels older than any law the Council pretends to enforce.
Vaelor presses close beneath my skin, immense and steady, not raging but coiled. The kind of controlled fury that doesn’t flare, it crushes. It steadies my spine, sharpens my focus, and makes every step toward the boundary deliberate.
The patrol straightens the moment they sense me. Relief flickers through the pack link in quiet pulses. They held their ground and knew I would come.
Good.
Elara walks beside me, exactly where she belongs. Not shielded, no
