Chapter 5 The Safe-house pack

The coming days were a revelation. Slowly, cautiously, I allowed myself to absorb the atmosphere of Alpha Draven's safehouse. It wasn't what I expected. There was no underlying tension, no suspicious glances following my every move. Instead, I was met with smiles, quiet nods, and genuine warmth.

Pack members, from the youngest pups to the oldest elders, seemed to treat my presence as normal. A quiet acceptance settled over the house, a stark contrast to the greed and awe I usually inspired.

They gave me space, as Alpha Draven had promised. My room remained my sanctuary, a place where I could retreat when the sheer normalcy of it all became overwhelming. No one intruded, no one questioned where I went or what I did within its walls.

But they also didn't isolate me. Meals were shared in a large, boisterous dining hall where laughter echoed and stories were told. Wolves would approach me cautiously at first, their eyes curious but not fearful, asking simple questions about my journey or offering bits of local knowledge. The beautiful teal and silver she-wolf who had first led me, whose name I learned was Elara, would often sit near me, her presence a quiet comfort rather than a perceived threat.

I watched them, fascinated. They seemed... happy. Truly, uncomplicatedly happy. Pups tumbled and played in the central courtyard, their yelps and giggles filling the air. Adults worked together, their movements fluid and coordinated, their conversations lighthearted.

There was a sense of community, of belonging, that I had only ever witnessed from a distance, like watching a different species thrive in an environment I couldn't inhabit.

The wariness I had arrived with didn't vanish overnight – it was too ingrained for that. But with each passing day, it began to recede, like a tide pulling back from the shore. I started spending more time outside my room, exploring the vast house and the sheltered courtyard.

I found a quiet corner in the library filled with dusty books and the comforting smell of old paper. I sat by the window in the common room, simply observing the easy interactions between the pack members, their wolf forms close beneath the surface but not clawing to get out with aggression, only with affectionate nudges and playful nips.

Slowly, tentatively, I began to feel comfortable. It was a strange sensation, alien and almost unsettling in its unfamiliarity. My shoulders started to relax from their perpetual tension, my senses didn't feel the constant need to be on high alert. I still slept with one ear open, the echoes of past dangers not easily silenced, but the sleep itself was deeper, more restful.

The wraithbane bud in the floor outside was a constant reminder of why I was here, of the unusual nature of my being, but within the walls of this safehouse, among these welcoming wolves, it felt less like a mark of difference and more like a part of me they simply accepted.

I hadn't realized how heavy the weight of constant vigilance had been until I began to set it down, piece by careful piece. I was Feei, the moon-blessed, the wraithbane, and here, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I might just be safe enough to simply be.

***

The comfortable rhythm I had begun to settle into shattered without warning. One moment, the safehouse was a haven of warmth and laughter; the next, it was plunged into a chilling silence. News spread like wildfire: little Lily, barely old enough to shift more than her nose, was missing.

The shift in atmosphere was palpable. The easy smiles vanished, replaced by grim lines of worry. The playful energy of the pups was muted, the adults moved with a tense, purposeful stride. Fear, an old, familiar enemy, had found its way inside the walls. Search parties were immediately organized, older wolves scenting the perimeter, younger ones checking every nook and cranny within the sprawling mansion. Alpha Draven was away at an Alpha summit in the next territory, a necessary absence that suddenly felt tragically ill-timed.

His Beta, a stern but fair wolf named Ronan, took charge, his face etched with concern.

I watched the frantic activity, the rising panic in the eyes of Lily's parents, a soft-natured pair who were usually the epitome of calm. My own gut twisted. I knew what it felt like to be lost, to be alone, to be hunted. And while I had only known Lily for a few days, her bright, curious eyes and fearless attempts to sniff my hand had chipped away at my carefully constructed solitude.

They were organizing search teams to go beyond the perimeter, seasoned trackers preparing to cast a wide net. I hesitated for only a moment. My skills weren't those of a conventional tracker. I didn't follow paw prints or broken twigs. My world was often one of faint whispers on the wind, of energies that most couldn't perceive, of a connection to things both living and otherwise. And my blood, the 'wraithbane' that had piqued the Alpha's interest, had given me an unusual perspective on the world.

I stepped forward, interrupting Ronan's terse instructions to a group of wolves.

"Let me go," I said, my voice quiet but firm.

All eyes turned to me. Surprise, skepticism, and a flicker of hope warred on their faces. I was the stranger, the moon-blessed anomaly whose blood grew flowers. What could I possibly offer to a wolf pack's search?

"Feei," Ronan said, his brow furrowed. "This is dangerous. It's not just tracking; we don't know who or what took her."

"Precisely," I replied, meeting his gaze steadily. "And I have ways of finding things others might miss. Please. Let me try."

There was a moment of silence, heavy with consideration. The desperation in the air was a powerful ally. Ronan looked at Lily's parents, then back at me.

"Very well," he said, a reluctant nod. "But you go alone. It's less risk if you can move unseen. Take a communicator."

I accepted the small device, though I doubted its utility where I might have to go. I gathered my wits, and stepped out to find the little pup.