It is not agreement. It is compromise. And we both know it. I step past him and head back out into the hallway, and two wolves fall into step behind me without needing to be told, and the shift in the air is immediate, and this is different from the quiet respect before and this is controlled presence.
I do not like it. But I do not fight it. Not yet.
The day moves forward in small controlled pieces after that, and I move through the packhouse and the outer grounds while the guards stay close enough to react and far enough not to crowd, and every step feels measured in a way that makes it harder to think clearly.
I head toward the training field later, and the space is empty for once, and the quiet there feels different from the rest of the territory, and I step out onto the dirt and ro
