I ran for hours.
Pushed my body harder than I had in months. The bond pulled like a rope tied around my ribs, dragging me south toward the Heartlands. Toward answers. Toward pain.
The wolf's warning echoed with each step: This path will end in pain.
But I couldn't stop. Couldn't turn back. The bond wouldn't let me.
The terrain shifted as I crossed invisible borders. The Direwilds gave way to gentler lands: rolling hills where the wild grasses grew waist-high, ancient oak groves that had stood for centuries, streams that ran clear over smooth stones worn by time. This was pack land, old and established, where wolves had lived in harmony with the earth for generations. The very air felt different here, warmer, carrying the scent of cultivated fields and livestock from nearby farms. It was softer than the fierce wilderness I'd claimed as my own, but no less sacred to those who called it home.
