Morning came swiftly without ceremony.
Mist lay thick across the forest floor, silver-gray and slow to lift, clinging to roots and stones as if the night were reluctant to let go. Kaida woke before the others, senses alert, body still. She didn't move at first. She counted breaths that weren't her own.
Six.
All still there. That alone felt heavier than it should have.
She rose quietly, boots sinking into damp soil. The soft scrape was enough. Heads lifted. Ears twitched. Muscles tightened across the clearing. No one reached for dominance. No one bowed either.
They were watching her, observing her as though she was a singular poppy in a snow covered field.
"We need to talk," Kaida said.
No one interrupted, but no one relaxed.
The scarred brown-furred female stepped forward, arms folding across her chest. "You're awake early for someone who doesn't claim leadership."
Kaida met her gaze evenly, face blank eyes questioning. "Leadership doesn't sleep deeply."
That drew a low huff of amusement from somewhere behind her. Not mockery. Recognition.
The brown-furred female tilted her head. "You said we weren't a pack."
"We aren't." Kaida answers her tone never changing.
"Then why are we still here?" She asked again
Kaida didn't answer immediately. She let the question settle, let the quiet stretch until it became uncomfortable.
"Because none of you wanted to leave," she said finally , an unnoticeable lobsided smirked reaching her lips.
A younger male frowned. "That's not an answer."
"It is," Kaida replied calmly. "Just not one that gives you rules."
A murmur rippled through the group. Someone shifted their stance. Another glanced toward the trees, as if measuring distance.
"So what are you?" someone asked. "an alpha? Something else?"
Kaida felt her wolf stir—not rising, not posturing. Simply present. They felt her too.
"I'm not your Alpha," she said. "And I won't be. If you need someone to tell you when to eat, fight, or kneel—you should go back to your packs."
The younger male bristled. "And if someone comes for us?"
Kaida didn't raise her voice. She didn't bare her teeth.
"If someone comes," she said, "they won't find prey." Looking directly at the young man. The words settled into the ground like stones dropped into water.
Silence followed.
The scarred female studied Kaida for a long moment. "And if we leave?"
Kaida shrugged. "Then you leave."
"No punishment?"
"No chase." Added another, not quite understanding the situation he found himself in.
"That's not how packs work."
Kaida took a deep sign looking up at the blue sky through the leaves of the trees around them. Once she opened her eyes she looked at the groups. "I'm not building one,".
That landed harder than any threat.
A gray wolf near the edge shifted closer. "Then why do I feel like staying?"
Kaida looked at him—not as a leader assessing loyalty, but as one wild thing recognizing another. "Because you haven't been asked to choose before."
The gray wolf exhaled slowly. "I choose this. For now."
Others nodded. No cheers. No howls. Just quiet agreement.
They spent the morning like that—talking, moving, circling the edges of something unnamed. Kaida didn't assign tasks, but people found things to do anyway. Someone gathered water. Another checked the perimeter without being asked. Two wolves argued softly over where to build a fire, then compromised.
No one looked to Kaida for permission no did she give any. However, when questions rose, they constantly drifted toward her.
"What happens if packs decide this is a threat?"
"What if they don't believe we're neutral?"
"How long can we stay before it becomes a statement?"
Kaida answered honestly. Sometimes that meant admitting she didn't know.
By midday, the forest changed.
Kaida felt it first—a tightening at the edges of her awareness, like pressure building before a storm. Her wolf lifted its head. The birds went quiet one by one. She straightened. "We're being noticed," she said.