Chapter 231 AURORA

Golden morning sunlight filtered through the curtains and spilled delicately over the room. I stretched, the ache of muscles, having danced way too much the night before, registered within my brain. Beside me, Dane shifted, and his arm slid over my waist.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice husky from sleep.

“Morning,” I replied, turning toward him.

His smile was soft, his eyes full of warmth. “I think we’ve officially earned this.”

I giggled, moving a wayward strand of hair off his face. “Earned what? A lazy morning?”

“Exactly,” he replied, tugging me closer to him. “After all we have endured,” he pinched my nose, “After how you screamed my name last night… you definitely deserve rest.”

I giggled and as he tried to reach for me, I jumped out of bed and entered the bathroom.

“Oh common, it’s still early,” he groaned.

The village was slow to awaken that morning, the celebration of the wedding evident in sprinkled flower petals and the soft hum of laughter hanging in the air.

As it approached mid-morning, wolves began gathering in the clearing for the first story circle. I arrived hand in hand with Dane, the cheerful buzz of conversation greeting us.

“All right, all,” I called, stepping to the center. “Let’s hear some stories.”

The elders took turns and spoke of successes and failures. Joclyn’s voice assumed quiet authority as she led a story through a harsh winter, her words painting vivid scenes of survival and kinship.

Piper and Warrick sat with them, but their playing at banter seemed weird.

“Think they’ll tell the story of your burnt stew?” Piper teased, nudging Warrick.

“That wasn’t my fault!” he protested, though the grin on his face betrayed his amusement.

Later that day, Trajan approached Dane and me with an idea in his head.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, and his voice was contemplative. “We should have a feast. Not just for celebrations, but to honor the pack’s history. Bring everyone together to remember where we came from.”

Dane just nodded; his face spoke approval. “That’s a good idea. Let’s make it happen.”

Trajan proved contagious about the feast. He got everybody into its preparation – fetched ingredients, made decorations.

I found him seated with Joclyn. Their heads were bent together as they talked over the finishing touches of the party.

“You’re really doing this,” I said, dropping into a seat beside them.

Trajan looked up, a rare smile on his face. “It feels… important. Like something we need.”

Joclyn nodded, her gaze steady. “The pack thrives on connection. This is a way to strengthen it.”

Not everything went so well. Gradually, Rowan’s behavior had started to shift. He was faster, almost frantic, to gain attention.

During one of the planning meetings about the celebration, he grasped at every task, his enthusiasm almost swinging to hostility.

“I’ll get the supplies,” he interrupted, when another wolf had spoken.

“Rowan,” I said softly, “we need to hear from everyone.”

He reddened then, nodded, the muscles across his shoulders rigid.

Later, in training, he overexerted himself, his movements sloppy in a bid to impress.

“Easy,” Dane cautioned as Rowan plunged forward too vigorously, almost hitting another wolf. “Control, not speed.”

Muttering a quick apology, he didn’t hide the frustration in his voice.

Later that evening, when I was sorting out the supplies for the feast, I saw him come near me.

“Luna,” he began, his voice faltering.

“Yes, Rowan?” I turned to him.

“I just. I want to do more. To prove myself,” he finally said in a rush of words.

I smiled and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You are doing enough. Still, that’s not about proving oneself; it’s just being yourself.” He nodded but his face still showed distress.

Unbeknownst to me, Rowan had been stewing in frustration. That night, when the pack settled into their routines, he lagged at the edge of the village, eyes fixed on Dane and me discussing the final touches to the feast.

“You deserve to be seen,” a low, hushed voice said.

Turning to find Alina standing behind him, her eyes lay so calm, full of an intention that hitched his pulse.

“What do you mean?” he asked warily.

That time, when Alina smiled, it came stronger, her eyes glinting steadily. “You have much potential, Rowan, but you block your path. The right moment flipped might show them just who you happen to be.”

Rowan crossed his arms, a defensive note entering his posture. “And what exactly is that moment supposed to look like?”

Alina leaned her head to one side, and her eyes shone in the poor light. “It’s not something I can define for you. But when it comes, you’ll feel it. You’ll know.”

Rowan scowled, frustration rising to the surface. “That’s not an answer. You’re speaking in riddles.”

Her laughter was low, almost conciliatory. “Sometimes the clearest truths can only be seen in the shadows. You’ve been watching, waiting for someone to give you permission to step forward. Stop waiting, Rowan. Take what you want.”

Those words flared something in him, a fire of rebellion and ambition. Yet alongside it flared doubt: gnawing unease that made his skin tingle.

“And what if I do?” he returned, his tone soft.

Alina leaned in, her voice a whisper. “Then, you will finally find your worth. You shall see that you have no need of anyone’s approval: not Dane’s, not Aurora’s.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched tight. The storm in his chest threatened to choke him as he wasn’t so sure he wanted to believe her.

The silence between them tugged out until the wordless, significant weight in it began to sting. At last, Alina straightened, brushing imaginary dust off her cloak.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said over her shoulder, and would have turned away, “and when you do, I’ll be here.”

He watched her figure fade out, while still, in his brain, one whispered the phrase over and over to a melody. The clearing was hushed about him now; long strange shadows outlined the dim, golden embers of lamps.

His eyes darted to the packhouse, where the sounds of laughter drifted across, fading away. In that one moment, his resolve wavered. He caught Aurora’s voice, a little more musical and clear against the chill evening breeze. Suddenly, this chafed in his chest and became an undeniable ache he felt.

Still fresh was the echo of Alina’s words within him, growing into an increasing flame.

The next morning, Rowan threw himself into training with renewed intensity. His movements were sharper, more deliberate, as if trying to carve out his place through sheer force of will.

“Easy,” Dane called, his voice calm but firm. “You’re overextending again.”

Rowan gritted his teeth, adjusting his stance. “I’m fine.”

Dane raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

Nearby, Piper and Warrick sparred, their playful banter cutting through the morning air.

“Try not to embarrass yourself this time,” Piper teased, dodging Warrick’s swing.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Warrick shot back, grinning. “I’m saving my best moves for when it counts.”

Their laughter grated against Rowan’s nerves, but he forced himself to focus. He needed to prove himself not just to Dane and Aurora but to the entire pack.

Later that day, during a meeting to finalize the feast preparations, Rowan saw his chance.

“I can handle the scouting for new hunting grounds,” he said, his voice firm.

Aurora looked at him, her eyes contemplative. “That’s a big responsibility, Rowan. Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“I am,” he said in a rush, his eyes locking into hers with determination.

Dane looked at Aurora then nodded. “Alright. But take someone with you. It’s not safe to go alone.”

“I’ll go,” Alina said, extending one leg in her wake with a confident grin.

Rowan’s gut twisted, but he nodded. “Very well. We leave at first light.”

Everything was at first uneventful on their reconnaissance mission, the forest passing wordlessly under the muffled footsteps, courtesy of its dense underbrush.

“You’re so quiet today,” Alina mentioned, the silence breaking abruptly.

“I’m concentrating,” he replied gruffly.

Alina snorted. “Fair enough.”

They walked deeper into the forest, the trees growing closer together, light growing dimmer. All of Rowan’s senses were on high, catching every sound and movement.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to lead?” Alina asked suddenly, casual in her tone but deliberate in her words.

Rowan hesitated, his grip tightening on his spear. “What are you getting at?”

“Just a thought,” she said, shrugging. “You’ve got the drive, the ambition. But you’re stuck in their shadow. Don’t you ever think about stepping out of it?”

Rowan stopped, then turned to her. “Why do you keep saying things like that?”

“Because I see potential in you,” Alina said simply. “More than they do. More than you see in yourself.”

Her words sliced to the doubts and longing he’d been trying to suppress.

Before he could say anything, the sound of rustling in the bushes drew their attention. He jerked his spear up, his heart racing.

“Probably only a deer,” Alina said, but her hand was on the hilt of her dagger.

The tension broke as a small rabbit jumped from the undergrowth, its beady eyes darting around the opening before it skipped off into the bushes.

Rowan let his breath out and lowered the spear.

“See?” Alina said, the smirk twisting her mouth once more. “Nothing to be concerned about.”