Three days after Mira had harshly disciplined the wolf pups, they were back on their feet—spirited, healthy, and bounding with renewed energy, as if nothing had happened.
That Saturday morning, after a brisk training session, Lara led the young wolves into the woods behind the Norse manor. The early light filtered through the canopy, dappling the forest floor with flickering patches of gold and green. Birds chirped overhead, and the scent of damp earth and moss lingered in the cool air. Sandoz, still in high spirits from another sleepover and early morning training, tagged along with Lara and his sister Reya. His mother, Linnea, walked quietly beside them, always watchful.
Unbeknownst to the small party, the Duke had discreetly assigned a few knights to observe them from a distance, their presence hidden among the trees—shadows with swords, guardians in silence.
As they entered the heart of the woods, Reya looked around at the sparse vegetation and slender trees with a soft sigh.
