The afternoon sun spilled through the towering pines, painting small shifting patterns of gold across the forest floor. Laughter drifted through the trees from the training grounds not too far away where wolves of every age were sparring, some in their human forms while others raced through the woods on four powerful legs. The sounds of paws thudding against the earth blended with the soft breeze going around, creating a sweet tone that had always felt like home.
Fourteen-year-old Theon sat on the wide porch outside the main pack house with his elbows resting on his knees. His training shirt clung to him with sweat after spending most of the morning trying–and failing–to beat his father in a sparring match. His lip was split and healing, there was a bruise beginning to bloom beneath one eye, and his pride had suffered far more damage than either injury.
