Fiona's Return

Fiona's paws pressed softly against the cracked pavement as she walked toward the residential building. The familiar scent of home filled her senses, mixing with the distant traces of the city's decay. But she wasn't alone.

The moment she stepped into the vicinity, she felt the weight of familiar gazes locking onto her.

The wolves.

She kept moving, her steps unhurried. She had expected this.

And just as she predicted, the door to the building creaked open. One by one, the pack stepped out, their eyes gleaming under the dim evening light.

They didn't rush to her.

Instead, they walked toward her in a slow, measured pace, their bodies tense with curiosity.

Fiona came to a halt, her golden eyes steady as the pack encircled her. Their noses twitched, their ears flicked as they took in her scent—assessing, questioning, wondering.

They knew she had left for something important.

They knew she had refused their silent offer to follow.