The pack did not agree.
They reacted.
That difference mattered.
By the time the sun reached its apex, the territory was no longer humming with curiosity—it vibrated with tension sharp enough to taste. Wolves gathered in clusters that shifted and reformed like unsettled weather, voices rising and falling in quick, clipped bursts before cutting off entirely whenever Aurelia passed.
She felt it all.
Not as noisy.
As for weight.
The bond beneath her skin remained steady, grounded, but it did not shield her from the truth settling into the land. Choice had been offered. And with it came division.
"They're splitting," Mira said quietly as they crossed the inner grounds. "Not cleanly. Not yet. But the lines are forming."
Aurelia nodded. She could sense it too—the way certain wolves instinctively aligned themselves closer when she approached, while others drifted back, expressions hardening into something brittle and defensive.
Fear did not always flee.
Sometimes it dug in.
