Varon had told Selene long ago about the sacredness of a wolf's word.
To give your word and then break it was a punishment worse than death, a betrayal of your very essence. The penalty, he had explained, wasn't just physical pain, but a deep, wound to your mind and spirit. It was a price no werewolf would ever willingly pay.
She remembered the day he had told her this, just before his first long journey. He had given her his word, on his wolf, that he would return. And he had, with stories and books for her, as well as his eyes shining with the excitement of his travels.
Selene's heart ached with a bittersweet mix of love and loss. She remembered the sheer joy of their reunions, how she would throw her arms around him, burying her face in his scent, cherishing every second of his presence. Those days were a fleeting paradise, a brief escape from the reality of her life in his absence.
