The ward-map still glowed on the enchanted parchment, its intricate lines showing the defensive boundaries for the Sterlinggate Pack alliance proposal.
I moved my hand over the surface, my claws hovering between the seal of preservation and the dismissal rune for a moment before I simply let the magic fade entirely.
As the day's duties wound down, I made my way to the bathing chambers at the far end of the den.
I'd barely stepped into one of the private alcoves and drawn the curtain when voices and footsteps drifted in from the main corridor—two of the younger wolves from my patrol unit, the ones who always had something to say.
"...Kael actually submitted his oath withdrawal?"
"For real. Heard it straight from Alpha Ashthorne's personal liaison."
"Tch. He's just banking on his years of service, trying to threaten her with leaving. Like he doesn't know where he actually stands in the hierarchy."
"Exactly. The wolf thinks way too highly of himself. Look at Garrick—smooth talker, knows how to work the pack dynamics. Alpha Ashthorne obviously values him more."
"No kidding. Garrick's a natural. His presentations at council gatherings? Flawless. Every report has Alpha Ashthorne's ears perked with approval."
"And his dedication! Always the last one to leave the central den. I mean... half the time nobody knows what he's actually doing, but hey—showing commitment is everything, right?"
"Kael just buries himself in ward-work like a common laborer. Zero awareness of pack politics."
"Remember when Alpha Ashthorne wore that new ceremonial cloak? The whole pack complimented her scent and bearing. Not him—head down, grinding away on his territory proposal. You could see her hackles rise."
"A wolf like that? Getting screwed on his resource share is exactly what he deserves."
The water basin turned on. The rush of water drowned out whatever snickering came next.
I stood in that alcove, thinking back to seven years ago when I first pledged my oath. The pack was just a scrappy group of wolves, thirty-some members struggling to hold our territory.
Who pulled all-night watches reinforcing our wards? Me. Who cracked the toughest problems with our boundary defenses? Me. Who got shoved in front of furious allied pack emissaries to absorb their rage when negotiations went sour? Me.
That make-or-break alliance pact that determined whether the pack survived or scattered—the preliminary scent-trails, the strategic breakthroughs, the countless revisions to our terms—which scroll didn't have my claw marks and exhaustion soaked into it?
Back then, Aurora used to give me a respectful nod all the time. "Kael, you're the backbone of this pack."
"Keep it up. I'll make sure you're properly ranked."
I believed her. Worked myself even harder.
Then the pack grew stronger, multiplied in numbers, claimed a proper den complex in the highland territory.
That was the year Garrick joined. Elite bloodline pedigree. Fur groomed sharper than mine. Words smoother than mine.
He didn't need to understand ward-craft or patrol strategies—just had to be visibly perfecting a territory map whenever Aurora walked by.
He didn't need to handle allied pack tensions—just had to bring her freshly caught prey at precisely the right moment when she seemed frustrated, along with a few words of "Alpha Ashthorne, you carry such burdens for us."
As for all that late-night dedication? I'd caught him several times.
Every single time, he was lounging in the warm corners of the den or playing dominance games with the younger wolves.
Back at my quarters, I continued gathering my belongings.
Garrick happened to be walking out of the Alpha's private chambers. When he spotted me, his stride faltered for just a beat.
"Kael, packmate—heard you told Alpha Ashthorne you're withdrawing your oath?"
His voice was pitched just right—not too loud, not too soft—perfectly calibrated so every wolf nearby could hear with their sharp ears. Dripping with false concern.
"So sudden. Alpha Ashthorne was just saying the pack can't function without you."
"Is there some kind of misunderstanding?"
"The resource share situation—I'm sure Alpha Ashthorne has her reasons, looking at the bigger picture of pack survival."
"We're just subordinate wolves. Gotta be understanding of our Alpha's decisions."
I looked at him.
His eyes were bright, gleaming with shrewdness and the easy confidence of someone who'd already secured his position in the hierarchy.
That face—in front of Alpha Ashthorne, it was nothing but loyalty and diligence.
In front of me, it always let slip a hint of contempt, his wolf barely contained beneath the surface.
This was the wolf who, last season, took the defensive territory assessment I'd spent multiple sleepless nights creating and claimed the kill-credit as his own before the entire council.
