Elara POV:
By the time I reach the training hall, the sun has climbed high enough to burn the last of the dew from the grass and warm the stone beneath my boots. Midday settles heavy and bright over the pack grounds, the kind of light that leaves nowhere to hide.
Not that I’m trying.
I didn’t announce where I went this morning. Not because it was secret, because it wasn’t planned.
My muscles still carry the familiar ache of training, but beneath it hums something steadier — quieter. Not exhaustion. Not adrenaline. Alignment. The kind that settles into the bones instead of lighting the nerves on fire. I roll my shoulders as I push open the doors to the hall, breathing in the scent of worked wood, oil, iron.
Home, Rowan is already there.
He stands near the weapons rack with his sleeves
