Tonight was their seventh mating anniversary. Freya had spent all day preparing sacred dishes—Riven’s favorite moon-beast stew and Kael’s beloved ember-ribs.
Yet neither father nor pup came home.
She waited from six until ten, only to receive a short, cold mind-link, [Urgent pack business. Not returning tonight. Kael is with me.]
Remembering that, Freya felt her final tether snap. She no longer wished for explanations.
She no longer wanted them—neither the mate who betrayed her nor the pup she nearly died to bring into the world.
She rose, swept the lovingly prepared meals into the trash bin, turned their family portrait face-down and went upstairs.
Over the years, father and pup had given her countless gifts—especially Kael.
Pup expressed their love in simple, earnest ways.
The leaves Kael gathered from the forest paths, the moon-blooms he plucked along the way, or the crooked stick-wolf drawings he made in pup school—anything that caught his eye, he would proudly present to Freya like rare treasures.
But ever since she forbade him from eating sweet moon-berries because of his worsening fang decay, the warm bond between mother and pup had quietly begun to fray.