Morning came and the pack read stable.
Soren ran the map at breakfast, the same as every morning, and every thread was where it should be.
Yara warm and close. Selah cold and steady. Maren settled after her win. Dani precise at the edge. Mona quiet.
◆◆◆◆
The kitchen was loud that morning in the good way.
Maren was riding the high of the bout, retelling it to Mona, who was in the fruit bowl and did not care.
Yara sat close to Soren with her shoulder against his and ate steadily, color in her face, no urgency to the eating.
Selah took her single slice and rationed it small, the same as she rationed everything, the frost trace low at her nails.
To Soren it was a good morning.
His pack around a table, fed, safe, teasing each other over a win.
He did not see that two of the women at the table were quietly balancing a book he didn't know was open.
