When they finally stepped outside, the air had turned colder.
The afternoon light was already fading behind the trees, and the forest around Dorian's house carried that damp, quiet heaviness typical of Oregon winters. Somewhere farther down the path the younger wolves were still laughing, their voices echoing between the trunks as they ran toward the clearing.
Ithilien paused for a moment on the porch.
The scent of pine and wet soil filled her lungs.
And suddenly the need hit her—sharp and almost physical.
To run.
Not the playful, competitive running. Not a race.
She needed distance. Space. Wind under her fur and the quiet rhythm of the forest.
Marco noticed immediately. He had always been able to read her moods long before she spoke them.
They walked toward the car in silence for a while, the gravel crunching softly beneath their steps. Ithilien kept her eyes on the trees, as if measuring something only she could see.
"I think I'll go somewhere after Christmas," she said finally.
Marco opened the passenger door but paused before getting in.
"I don't know where, yet. Maybe Mount Hood. Somewhere with enough forest that I won't run into anyone for a few days."
Marco studied her for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Sure." He slid behind the wheel and started the engine. "Honestly," he added, glancing at her with a faint smile, "I'm surprised it took you this long."
Ithilien leaned her head back against the seat.
She didn't feel like herself.
Everything inside her seemed unsettled, as if the ground beneath her thoughts had shifted slightly. The conversation with Kidd, the afternoon at Dorian's house, the image of Levi with Hayati in his arms—each of those things had left small cracks in places she had believed were solid.
She needed to run.
To think.
To let Tauriel stretch beneath the open sky.
But even as the decision formed, doubt crept in.
"What if something happens while I'm gone?" she asked quietly. "What if I'm not here to help?"
Marco pulled the car onto the narrow road leading back toward town.
"Well," he said calmly, "as far as I understand it, Kidd is fairly confident he can handle the situation." He gave her a brief sideways glance. "And the full moon isn't until next month. Until then, nothing should trigger another transformation like that."
The forest slid past outside the window, dark trunks rising through the mist.
Ithilien watched them in silence.
Then she nodded once.
"Okay."
The word was quiet, almost lost beneath the hum of the engine.
But in that moment, the decision settled firmly inside her.
"Sweet girl," Kidd heard Byra say quietly to her husband, when they finally sat down in Dorian's living room. "But I can't even imagine what it must be like for her here, all alone without her pack. I think I'll invite her over for dinner next week."
"Why not? Carter can barely keep his eyes off her," Levi laughed, glancing toward Dorian. "What do you think, old man?"
"Carter's young," Dorian waved a dismissive hand, as if the matter hardly deserved discussion.
Levi only grinned wider.
"Maybe now. But give it a few years…"
"Since when do you play matchmaker?" Byra asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Matchmaker? I'm just calling it like I see it." Levi leaned back in his chair. "Bringing someone like that into the pack… What do you say, Kidd?"
For a moment Maddox didn't move. Then he turned his head toward Levi, his expression indifferent, his voice carrying its usual edge of quiet irony.
"I'd have to ask her alpha first."
Levi sighed. "Oh, not this again. We talked about that."
"We theorized," Kidd cut in firmly. "And that theory had nothing to do with the truth. Her alpha is alive. Somewhere in Montana."
"That means…" Byra's expression shifted, the warmth fading from her face. She looked first at Levi, then at Kidd. "Her mate? Her bond?"
"He's alive," Kidd said flatly, his gaze fixed on Levi as if holding him responsible for the assumptions they'd made that night.
"So she's one of those rejected ones?" Levi asked matter-of-factly.
Dorian cleared his throat softly.
"It happens," the old alpha said. "A bond isn't a guarantee of love. Or even of a life together."
Kidd gave a short, humorless snort.
"Maybe not. But that doesn't change the fact that she's still bound. And that's not something I want in my pack."
Levi only shrugged. Dorian said nothing.
But Byra—
"You don't have to want her in the pack," she said calmly. "But that doesn't mean I can't feel sorry for her. I don't know what happened between her and that alpha, and frankly I don't need to. If she wants to come over next week, she's welcome. And no one here gets a say in that."
"This is still my territory," Kidd replied coolly.
Byra met his gaze without flinching.
"And this is our home. I decide who I invite into it. Alpha, Luna, omega—I don't care what she is to the rest of you. To me, she's a person."
Instead of calming his wife, Levi wore a faint, proud smile.
Kidd didn't answer. He simply looked away, jaw tightening, because in that moment Byra was absolutely right.
"Just don't get too attached," he muttered after a moment. "It'd be a shame if she went back to Montana one day and broke your heart."
Byra smiled sweetly.
"Oh, I doubt I'd be the only one."