Bitterroot Valley There was somewhere else you wanted to be.

the healer spoke like someone who carried many winters inside his ribs. sega knew that kind of weight. not the same shape, but the same heaviness.

he dipped his head once, slow.

i hear, he said. you heal in bone… not just paw. good thing.

most wolves could patch a wound. few could hold another’s hurt without drowning in it. he respected that, even if he didn’t fully understand how a man could feel so much and still stand.

after a breath, sega shifted closer, lowering onto his haunches beside the mossy outcrop etienne had chosen.

but, he rumbled, gold eyes narrowing not unkindly, you no only healer. many skill in you. i see.

he tilted his head, studying him the way he studied weather signs.

so i ask… what you like?

a simple question, but sega meant it. not what etienne could do. not what he had survived.

what made him etienne.

when no blood, no wound, no duty… what your heart want?