Several days passed within the pack territory and slowly, Alden began to act as though nothing had occurred. Fresh flowers were delivered to my chamber again. Messages came through my crystal communicator, gentle and light, asking how my day as Luna had been, sharing small jokes, even trying to press a brief greeting kiss when we crossed paths near the manor gates. It felt as if the recent moons of pain had never existed.
Draven followed the same path, stepping back into his role as the elder brother.
Warm drinks delivered, shared memories when we were a pup and easy laughter. Each time they said, “We regret it, Luna. Let us fix this,” it sounded less like remorse for betrayal and neglect and more like an excuse for a minor scrape during training.
Then came the sudden invitation to dine.
“Our offering,” Alpha sent. “The old gathering den. You remember it.”
Part of me wanted to erase the message and pretend it never reached my mindlink. But another quieter part, the tired, worn part of my wolf, wondered if perhaps we could close this bond without anger. Without bitterness.
So I came.