Elara POV:
Home is supposed to feel like an exhale.
The familiar trees rise to greet us as we cross the final ridge, their canopies arching overhead in a way that has always made me feel contained rather than caged, as though the land itself understands the difference between shelter and restraint. The earth hums beneath my boots with recognition, a low, steady thrum that travels up through my bones, and the scent of pine and damp soil fills my lungs like a memory I never had to reach for.
This place knows me, it always has. And yet my wolf does not settle.
I keep my posture relaxed as we pass the outer sentries, returning nods, offering easy smiles, playing the role I’ve worn my entire life without effort. The pack greets my father first — their Alpha, solid and reassuring — then me,
