Mia stepped across the Silverpine orchard, leaving light imprints in the wet grass. The tempest had departed, leaving in its wake the smell of damp soil and droplets adhering to the budding branches.
One of the oldest sites in the region, the orchard was cultivated by the initial wolves who inhabited these forests. Both care and inheritance had planted each tree, deep roots, broad branches.
She felt at peace here. Always had.
But today she wasn't alone.
Her uncle stood under one of the trees, his hands behind his back. He appeared older than she had recalled him — thinner, quieter. That arrogance he had once exuded had disappeared, leaving in its place the weariness Mia had seen before too often.
She halted a few paces behind him.
"I expected you would have long departed by now," she replied.
He slowly turned. "You expected me to run again."
She shrugged. "That's what cowards do."
He winced but did not deny it.
"I was wrong about you," he stated, his pause significant. "About everything. You weren't a burden at all. You were the starting point."
Mia crossed her arms. "Of what?"
He locked eyes with her. "Change."
There was silence between them. Leaves rustled in the wind.
"You are not here for redemption, and neither am I here to provide it,"
I do.
"But I'll watch, I will," she went on. "To see what you decide to be now. If you work, if you rebuild, if you reprove yourself again—not in rank, but in action—then perhaps, in the end, we'll talk without the ghosts between us."
He nodded once. "That's more than I deserve."
She turned and walked away.
But she did not close the door behind her.
Back in the lodge, Lucas was mid-meeting with Cade and the elders, discussing border security and upcoming joint patrols with Glenshadow. He paused as Mia entered, giving her a brief look that spoke volumes — are you okay?
She nodded in response in a subtle manner.
Following the meeting, they proceeded together down the corridor, their shoulders touching.
"He apologized?" asked Lucas.
As much as he could, "But some things don't need to be forgiven. They just need to be faced."
Lucas looked at her. "You're better at it than anybody I've ever seen." She smiled smugly. "It's a learned survival
That night, the pack came together for a spring feast, the first since the war finished. There were long wooden tables under the lanterns, the food handed hand to hand, the pups between benches darting in and out. Laughter flowed again in the land, hesitant at the beginning, later full-blown and radiant.
Mia sat at the head of the main table, beside Lucas, not Luna, not legally — but voluntarily.
By trust
She rose halfway through the meal and rapped on her glass. Everyone became silent.
"I won't make a long speech," she began. "We've had enough of those."
A few laughs
"I just want to say thank you. For fighting. For believing. For showing up."
She surveyed the area. "Silverpine has never been perfect. But now. it can be better. Because of you."
The pack burst out in howls and cheers.
And this time Mia did not blush. Mia did not shrink.
She stood erect.
Later in the evening, Lucas met up with her again beneath the stars.
"I believe they do love you," he whispered quietly
"I believe they finally understand me now," she answered.
He came in close. "And I see you most of all."
Their mouths touched — a kiss that wasn't of flame, but of certainty. Their bond reawakened, not under the light of the moon, but in everything they had built themselves.
That is no longer destiny
This is home.