Chapter Thirty Five
The trees of the Northern Circle blurred past in streaks of lush green as my paws pounded the earth. The summer air was heavy with resin and wildflowers, carrying the soft heat that still clung to the day.
Home.
When the clearing broke open before me, I slowed, claws digging deep as the familiar warmth of lumber halls came into view. The Council House back south had been all polished stone and suffocating formality.
This was carved straight from the land.
Honest. Untamed. Ours.
The shift rolled through me in a ripple of fire and bone, fur retreating, skin prickling against the evening air. The ground felt colder beneath bare feet, but the scent, fresh pine, damp soil, the faint musk of my pack, filled the hollow places inside me that politics and betrayal had carved out.
I barely had time to tug the loose shirt over my head before I felt her.
The smell of freshly fallen snow lit up my senses and my heart leapt.
Sprinting across the clearing with a flush in her pale cheeks and her ash blonde hair twisted and twined in braids - Talia.
Her hands grabbed my shoulders, her cheek brushing against mine in warm affection.
For a moment, the ache inside me broke.
"You're too thin," she murmured, voice shaking though she tried for steadiness. "And you smell like Council corridors and bad decisions."
A laugh clawed at my throat, rough and too close to tears.
"You look better," I said as I pulled back to look at her tawny eyes.
"And you're alive." Her gaze softened, catching the shadows in mine. "And here without lover boy."
The words struck deeper than I wanted to admit. My smile didn't reach my eyes, but I forced it anyway. "We're not talking about him."
Her expression faltered, but before she could press, movement caught at the edge of my vision.
My parents. Chiefs of the Northern Circle. Elders who would demand answers, who would weigh every word and decide whether we prepared for peace or sharpened blades for war.
The relief of home cracked against the cold reality of why I had returned.
Talia squeezed my hand once before letting go. The air shifted, the weight of expectation pressing as heavy as stone.
The great hall of the Northern Circle was quiet in that way only home could be with every sound accounted for, every shadow familiar, every wall heavy with memory.
The sunlight was low in the late summer sky, spilling through tall windows, casting golden lattices across stone floors worn smooth by centuries of careful footsteps.
I stepped inside, feet bare against the cool stone, every nerve alert despite the familiarity.
My parents were there, standing side by side, still as carved statues in the center of the hall.
My father's pale hair caught the light like frost on steel, his icy blue eyes narrowing with the same piercing clarity that had guided me since birth. My mother's expression was taut, sharp-edged in that way that reminded me of her temper but softened with the warmth she reserved for family.
My father's gaze swept over me, assessing, measuring, but there was an undercurrent I knew well, the pride, tempered by worry.
"Kiera," he said simply, voice low, controlled, as though the words themselves had to be exact to prevent unraveling. "You've returned sooner than expected."
"I came back as fast as I could," I replied, my voice steady even though my chest ached. "The Southern Council... things are worse than we thought. The rogue activity has them scrambling for something else to blame."
My mother stepped forward, her sharp features softening as she took my hand.
The touch was brief, grounding. "We've been expecting word," she said, voice warm but measured, the kind that carried both care and restraint.
"The packs hold, but the attacks... they're troubling.
This many rogues don't come so far north for no reason. "
I nodded, glancing between them. "There's more. The Southern Council... some of them are manipulating situations, stirring tensions. What I witnessed in the last months..." My words faltered under their combined scrutiny, and I swallowed the rest back.
There was no time for theatrics, and they didn't need dramatics.
My father's shoulders stiffened, just slightly. "You've always been sharp, Kiera. We trust your judgment. Tell us everything."
I exhaled, a rush of tension leaving me in that one breath. "It's political, yes, but dangerous. They've framed Northern Packs for rogue attacks and reckless retaliation. The Southern Council could push this to... war, and we wouldn't see it coming until it was too late."
My mother's hand squeezed mine. "Then we prepare," she said, firm, unwavering. "You've done well to return in time."
I let myself relax fractionally, though my wolf still hummed beneath my skin, restless.
They didn't need to embrace me the way others might; the Northern Circle had its own ways of showing care. This acknowledgement, this presence, this quiet but unshakable trust, was their love.
I met their eyes, seeing myself mirrored in both of them: my father's pale determination, my mother's delicate features. And for a moment, the weight of months apart and of everything I'd witnessed softened in that stillness.
But the undercurrent of danger ran through the hall, sharp as a knife hidden in the folds of a cloak.
Even home wasn't safe anymore and there was no time to waste.
The Elders had already been gathered before I had arrived and slowly, the familiar faces trickled in to the hall.
I stood at the head of the long table, my hands resting lightly on the cool wood, drawing myself into the posture I had learned as a child but refined through years of observation. My parents flanked me on either side, their presence a solid anchor beneath the rising storm of my thoughts.
"The Southern Council's moves are more aggressive than anticipated," I began, voice firm and clear, carrying across the room without raising it.
"They've orchestrated a narrative to paint our packs as reckless and dangerous.
Rogue attacks are escalating across our borders, and they're using this to justify framing us for any retaliation.
There are factions that want a war before we even see their true intentions. "
The Elders shifted in their seats. Each one, a sentinel of logic and strategy, considered every syllable I spoke.
Their eyes were calm, but I felt the currents of calculation running under the surface.
One of the older Elders, his hair white as frost and a lifetime of battle etched into his lined face, leaned forward.
"And you've verified this, Kiera?" he asked. His tone was neutral, almost detached, but the subtle narrowing of his eyes told me he weighed the truth of my words against the cost of action.
"Yes," I replied. "Talia and I have cross-checked reports of rogue activity, trade disruptions, and shipping irregularities. All point to coordination beyond random attacks. The Southern Council is framing us, using optics of diplomacy to hide their instigations."
Murmurs ran around the chamber, careful but undeniable. One Elder adjusted a ring on her finger, tapping it lightly against the table, eyes thoughtful.
My mother gave a brief, curt nod at my analysis, her fingers curling over the edge of the table.
"What are you proposing?" my father asked, voice even and commanding. The frost in his eyes was there, but I caught the flicker of pride.
"We prepare," I said simply. "Not just for defense, but for swift response.
Our Northern Circle warriors will be mobilized, reconnaissance strengthened along all vulnerable points.
We need to know the Southern movements before they see ours.
And strategically, we need to strengthen our alliance with Alpha Benuit and the Moon Lake pack.
She showed support for us with the Council and could be our first line of intelligence. "
One Elder nodded slowly. "And supplies?"
"We're stockpiling. Winter stores are early this year, every stronghold supplied, every wolf trained. I've already begun coordinating with local pack leaders," I said, letting my tone remain crisp, methodical. Every syllable was precise, leaving no room for doubt.
I could feel the faint rhythm of the Circle, the pulse of community even in restraint. These were wolves who measured risk, tempered emotion with experience.
"Will you stand with me, Elders?" I asked, finally letting a small, almost imperceptible softness brush my voice. "If the South wants war, we will not be caught unprepared. But we stand as a Circle, not as individuals. Every decision, every move, our unity will be our defense."
One by one, the Elders inclined their heads.
"Then we stand with you, Kiera," the oldest Elder said, voice low but resolute. "Northern Circle will not falter. We prepare, we defend, and we endure. Let our enemies see the cost of underestimating us."
I nodded, the tension in my chest loosening slightly but my mind already racing ahead. Plans, strategies, contingencies, everything had to be considered. There would be no hesitation, no faltering.
The Circle had always survived through measured logic, and now, more than ever, we would rely on it.
As the meeting closed, a shared understanding passed through the room: Northern Circle was ready, but the shadow of war still crept close.
Every wolf, every elder, every leader would need to play their part. And I, for all the warmth of home and family surrounding me, felt the weight of that responsibility settle deep into my bones.
The door closed behind me with a soft thud, the weight of the meeting still pressing on my shoulders.
But in the safety of home, the weight was welcomed.
My room smelled of cedar and smoked leather, of the Northern Circle in every corner. The bison pelt stretched across the floor soft beneath my boots, furs draped over chairs and bedspread whispering of hunts and victories.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, letting my fingers trail along the coarse fur of the bison hide.
I tried to focus on the work ahead, of plans, defenses, contingencies, but the ache in my chest refused to be ignored.
Dax's eyes haunted the edges of my mind, chocolate warmth blending into glowing amber. The betrayal of knowing he had agreed to those staged peace talks felt like ice crawling through my veins, twisting around my heartbeat.
I clenched my fists, knuckles pressing into the pelt. Instinct stirred inside me, restless, wanting to run, to howl, to let the pain out in raw, untamed force.
But I forced it down, let it curl into quiet fury.
I was Northern Circle, I was a leader, and I had to endure. I had to be ready.
Still, even with resolve hardening in my chest, my heart whispered of missing him.
The phone buzzed sharply against the wooden nightstand, snapping me out of the heavy silence of my room. I snatched it up, breath catching.
"Kiera," Lucien's voice came low, urgent, but laced with that signature smirk. "You didn't think the Council would wait, did you? They're moving sooner than expected."
"What do you mean?" I asked, leaning against the bedpost, trying to keep my voice controlled.
"Couple of days at most. They're heading to Northern Circle lands.
The Council thinks they can pull a fast one.
" His tone was clipped, precise, but there was a playful edge as if he were teasing me even in the middle of imminent danger.
"Technically, I shouldn't be telling you this, so, you know. .. keep it between us."
I rubbed my face with my free hand, the weight of the news sinking like a stone in my stomach. "Lucien... this isn't a joke. We need time to prepare—"
"Relax, I'm not here for a lecture," he interrupted smoothly, amusement tucked under the tension. "Keep your claws sharp. You'll need them."
The line went silent for a heartbeat, then he added, almost teasingly, "Try not to murder anyone before I get there, okay?"
I hung up slowly, heart hammering, mind spinning. Time had just shrunk, and the Northern Circle had to be ready now.
I promised I wouldn't disappear like I did last time! My updates aren't as frequent because the brain fog is real and the exhaustion is ridiculous but I promise I'm still here and we've only got like 5 more chapters to go now.
I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into Northern Circle now that Kiera's back home.
How do we feel about the upcoming conflict?
Next chapter will be happening at the same time as the events you've just read but from Dax's POV...