Chapter 129

Aria

Returning to the pack lands felt like a breath of fresh air after a year spent underground.

It had been barely a month since we had been here, but returning felt different now. When I had first set foot in Moonglow pack territory, I had been, for all intents and purposes, a human. I had entered the territory with a feeling of awe and appreciation, yes, but nothing like how I felt now.

The past month spent in the human lands had been… difficult, to say the least. Of course there were the matters involving the protesters and our campaign for unity, but it wasn’t just that. My wolf felt weaker in the human city, more tired, like she was almost in hibernation.

Returning to nature felt like waking her up again, and for the first time in weeks, I felt truly invigorated.

When I mentioned it to Darren on our way in, revealing how I suddenly felt alive and relaxed, he just chuckled and said, “Welcome to the club.” Apparently, he and every other werewolf felt like that outside of the pack lands. Something to do with the smog and lack of greenery in the human cities.

And to think that I once thought the city where I lived was extremely ‘green’.

Still, we hadn’t returned to the pack lands for a vacation.

Darren and I had returned to begin scouting locations for the documentary. We’d decided to place a focus on the pack’s traditions and artisans. It was an important step in our campaign—showing the world that werewolves weren’t so different from humans after all.

We started with the weavers, a group of women who created intricate tapestries and textiles using techniques passed down through generations. We made our way into their shop, where they showed us some of their skills and products.

We spent our first morning in the pack lands interviewing the weavers, compiling audio recordings of the discussions to send to Alfira. She was to go through the recordings and begin stringing together a cohesive narrative, and then we would make another trip for filming.

On the afternoon of the first day of our visit, we visited the blacksmiths, who crafted everything from tools to intricate jewelry. The forge was hot and loud, but I was fascinated by the process of making jewelry—the same jewelry that Wendy wore every day.

“This is incredible,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the noise. “How long have you been doing this?”

The head blacksmith smiled, wiping sweat from his brow. “Since I was a pup. My father taught me, just like his father taught him.”

I jotted down notes as the blacksmiths explained their work. They made a pair of earrings that day, delicately engraved silver with a lapis lazuli gem in the center. The head blacksmith boxed it up and handed it to me on the way out.

“This is for Wendy,” he said as he handed me the box.

I took it, furrowing my brow, and he added with a chuckle, “The woman orders something new practically every week.”

“Noted,” I snorted, exchanging amused glances with Darren.

After our visit with the blacksmiths, Darren and I took a break for lunch beneath the shade of a tree with pink blossoms—spring was finally here, and most of the snow had melted and gave way to vibrant flowers and little birds flitting about—but only briefly before we were back at work again.

A little while later, as we were setting up to interview the potters, a small group of pack members approached us. Darren straightened as they walked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. I turned as well.

“Alpha,” one of them said, addressing Darren. “We need to talk.”

Darren glanced at me briefly, but nodded. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

The man looked between both of us, then the others, and hesitated briefly before clearing his throat. “We’re… We’re worried,” he admitted. “Now that humans know about us, we don’t feel safe anymore. What if they come here? What if they try to hurt us?”

I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that our campaign had inadvertently put the pack at risk. Once, I might have felt offended by their fear of humans, but now with the protests… I couldn’t blame them anymore.

I couldn’t blame anyone for being scared anymore.

“I understand your concerns,” Darren said, placing a reassuring hand on my lower back as if he could sense my discomfort. “But the pack lands are still inaccessible to humans. The wards and protections we have in place are strong. And we’re doing everything we can to ensure your safety.”

One of the others, a woman, frowned. The glance she threw at me didn’t go unnoticed. “The wards aren’t perfect all the time,” she said. “You never know. With all these humans knowing about us now, there’s a chance they could… I don’t know, storm the pack lands!”

Darren’s jaw tightened, his hand tensing on my lower back. I felt the tension in his voice as he said, “We’re not going to let that happen. I promise you, we’ll do whatever it takes to keep this pack safe.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, but they seemed to relax slightly at Darren’s words. Only slightly, though. And not enough. Still, they nodded and dispersed, seemingly satisfied for now.

Once we were alone, I turned to Darren, feeling suddenly sick. “Do you even believe the words you just said?”

He turned to me, looking almost surprised for a moment, and I was worried I had struck a nerve. But then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. They’re not entirely wrong. I’ve been increasing security around the pack borders, doubling down on the wards just to be safe, but… I’m not sure. It feels as if there are more anti-werewolf protesters by the day.”

I bit my lip, not sure what to say. But for now, we had work to do.

After interviewing the potters, we finally called it a day. Darren and I made our way back to the pack house, where Lucas, Wendy, and even Darren’s father were gathered. They were seated around the coffee table in the den when we entered, Lucas’s laughter drifting through the house as Wendy tickled his ribs.

Over dinner, we discussed our options to protect the pack. Darren’s father mentioned an larger pack up north that might be able to offer help.

“The Shadowclan pack,” he explained, stirring his tea. “They’re one of the largest and most powerful packs, but they’ve been isolated for years, even before the recent… events. But their Alpha, from what I hear, is a reasonable man. He may consider a meeting.”

Darren and I exchanged a glance.

“I wonder if we should reach out to him,” Darren said. “He might be willing to provide support. If we make the right plea, of course.”

“I’ll help you draft the letter,” Wendy suddenly chimed in, waving her fork around as she spoke. “The Alpha of Shadowclan pack and I… go way back.”

We all perked up our heads at that, but Wendy was already stuffing her face with potatoes and entirely declining to comment further.

After that, we spent the next few hours working on the letter, writing multiple drafts before we got it right. Thanks to Wendy’s apparent history with the Alpha of Shadowclan, we somehow managed to pull together something resembling a halfway decent letter.

Finally, as the moon rose high in the sky, we finished the letter. Wendy handed it to Darren, who read it over one last time before nodding and folding it up.

“We’ll send it out in the morning,” he said, slipping it into an envelope and sealing it.

I couldn’t explain why, but as he said those words, I felt a small sensation of relief wash over me. It seemed like a step in the right direction.

Or so I hoped.