With the immediate threat of Thorne quelled, and the rogue forces temporarily scattered, Maddox turned his full attention to Elara's past. The revelation of her kidnapping, confirmed by her own evolving senses, haunted him as much as it did her. They spent hours, often late into the night, discussing the fragmented images she'd seen, the fleeting impressions of her birth pack.
"The scent was different," Elara murmured one evening, tracing patterns on Maddox's chest as they lay entwined. "Greener, somehow. More ancient trees. And their howling… it was a specific rhythm. A song."
Maddox called upon his most trusted scouts, sharing the bare minimum of Elara's unique gift but emphasizing the importance of their mission. They focused on distant territories, particularly those known for ancient forests and unique pack traditions. He also reached out through diplomatic channels, discreetly inquiring about missing pups from generations past, a delicate task given the sensitive nature of such a loss.
Elara, using her deeper mental connection, tried to re-access the stronger visions from the battle, hoping to find more clues. It was difficult; the intensity of that moment had been singular. Yet, slowly, deliberately, she began to sift through the echoes. She started to perceive faint mental signatures that were not of her current pack, or even of Thorne or Mara. They were distant, melancholic, imbued with a long-standing sorrow and a persistent thread of hope. It was the mental echo of a pack still searching, still grieving. The whispers of her past were growing clearer, drawing them towards a truth that promised both joy and inevitable pain.