“And they expect my participation? In this state?” The absurdity would be amusing if it weren’t so irritating.
“Some expect the wolf who killed Thaddeus to claim the position of Grand Alpha,” she clarifies, watching my reaction carefully. “Or at minimum, to participate in the selection of his successor.”
Understanding dawns with cold clarity. Of course they would assume that—wolf tradition has always dictated that the victor in an alpha challenge inherits not just the position but all associated authority and territory. By killing Thaddeus in formal combat witnessed by multiple packs, I’ve inadvertently positioned myself as potential successor to everything I oppose.
“I didn’t fight to replace him,” I state flatly, voicestrengthening with renewed purpose. “I fought him to end a system that crushes difference under the guise of tradition.”
Kitara nods, unsurprised by my response. “I’ve told them as much. Some understand. Others...” She shrugs, the gesture eloquently conveying wolf-kind’s resistance to radical change. “They want someone in charge. Someone to maintain order in territories accustomed to centralized authority.”
I consider this, recognizing both problem and opportunity presented. What follows Thaddeus’s fall matters as much as the fall itself—perhaps more. If another tyrant simply takes his place, nothing truly changes for our kind.
“Help me sit up.” I ignore the protest evident in Kitara’s expression. “If they want to speak with the wolf who killed Thaddeus, let them speak with both of us.”
She starts to object but stops. With careful support, she helps me into a seated position—the movement starting fresh waves of pain.
“Elias,” I call, knowing my security chief likely hovers nearby despite not being immediately visible. “Enter.”
The door opens instantly, confirming my assumption. “Alpha. It’s good to see you conscious.”
“Report,” I order, needing more information before addressing whatever council has gathered outside our territory.
“Twelve alphas with small contingents have assembled at our southern border,” he confirms, validating Kitara’s earlier statement. “They’re maintaining respectful distance, but their presence creates tension among the packs. Some view it as opportunity for new alliances. Others fear potential hostility if negotiations go poorly.”
“Their stated purpose?”
“Officially, to address succession following the Grand Alpha’s death.” Elias’s expression suggests skepticism. “Unofficially, to assess whether you intend to claim GrandAlpha status and whether they should resist or support such a claim.”
I nod. “And our position?”
“Secure for now. Ghost River and Mountain Strider packs maintain alliance, providing a buffer against potential aggression. Our own forces have recovered from the assault on Thaddeus’s compound, though morale would improve significantly with visible evidence of your recovery.”
The subtle suggestion doesn’t escape me—my people need to see their Alpha alive and functioning, even if far from full strength. “Arrange council,” I decide. “Not here—neutral ground. Two days from now.”
Elias nods, accepting the instruction without question despite the obvious concern he shares with Kitara regarding my physical state. “Location?”
“The Moon Circle where seasonal councils were traditionally held before Thaddeus consolidated power in his compound.” The choice is deliberate—invoking older traditions that predate the rigid hierarchy. “No more than three representatives per pack. Enforced neutrality. All weapons visible.”
“It will be arranged.”
As he withdraws to implement instructions, Kitara’s hand finds mine. “Are you certain about this? You’re nowhere near recovered.”
“Wolves respect strength,” I remind her, no need to elaborate on the obvious to one who understands pack dynamics as intimately as she does.
“An appearance of strength when you’re still recovering could be dangerous,” Kitara says, her fingers tightening around mine. “If they sense weakness...”
“They’ll sense determination,” I correct her gently. “And they’ll see us together—Alpha and Alpha Female, united in purpose.” I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss againsther knuckles. “This is how change begins, little wolf. Not just by ending what was, but by showing what can be.”
Her expression softens, worry giving way to pride despite lingering concern. “Then we face them together.”
“Always,” I promise.
The next twodays pass in careful preparation—physical recovery accelerated by pack healers’ expertise and Kitara’s continual support through our bond. By the morning of the council, I can stand without assistance and walk short distances, though full strength remains a distant prospect.
The Moon Circle is an ancient gathering place—a perfect ring of standing stones weathered by centuries of exposure—positioned where territorial boundaries once met before Thaddeus consolidated power under centralized rule.
As our contingent approaches, I see other packs have already assembled—representatives maintaining careful distance from each other, traditional rivals watching with barely concealed hostility despite the neutrality this space supposedly enforces.
Kitara walks beside me, her presence both practical support and symbolic statement. Behind us follow Elias and two senior wolves selected for both combat skill and diplomatic temperament—the minimum escort protocol demands while providing necessary security.
