Caelan POV:
I don’t interrupt her. I stay just beyond the edge of the clearing, arms loosely folded, watching the way Elara moves through the pack as though she’s always belonged here.
She isn’t performing, she isn’t pressing rank into the moment. There’s no calculated charm in the way she stands, no effort to command, and yet she does.
She listens fully. When one of the younger wolves talks too quickly, tripping over his own excitement, she lowers herself to his height instead of making him strain upward. Her hand rests briefly on his shoulder, grounding him without diminishing him. When an older she-wolf raises quiet concerns about supply routes shifting after the sanctions, Elara gives her complete attention, head tilted and eyes intent, absorbing every word.
No force, no dominance
