The morning after their reunion, Eira woke early. The light over Greystone was soft, filtered through mist and chimney smoke. She stood by the window, still half believing the night before had been a dream.
Her brother was alive. His family was under her roof. For the first time in years, she no longer felt like the last of the Moongrove Clan.
Down in the courtyard, Zaldy and Athena were already awake. They moved quietly, helping Mira stack firewood and fetch water from the well. It was instinct—wolves from a clan that had always survived through work, not words.
Eira stepped outside, a shawl around her shoulders. "You're early," she said.
Her brother smiled faintly. "Old habits. When you live on the road, you wake before trouble does."
Athena gave a small nod beside him. "We're used to earning our keep, even if the pay's only a roof and a bowl of soup."
Eira's chest ached at that. "You'll have more than that here," she said. "But before we settle anything, we need to talk."
