Steve could feel the shift taking place within the group, a quiet tension rippling through the camp like the low rumble before a storm. It wasnât as though werewolves had never left the pack before, after all, Steve himself had done so once, but there was a clear difference between his departure back then and what was happening now.
When Steve had left, it had been for himself, to chase a dream, to live on his own terms, to follow an ambition that didnât fit within the packâs walls. But the wolves leaving now werenât doing it for independence. They were leaving because they wanted to see what life was like under another banner. The Redwing pack had changed everything.
That pack hadnât even existed when Steve had first gone his own way. In his time, leaving the safety of a pack meant walking into danger, facing the worldâs cruelty alone. But now, these wolves werenât walking into the unknown, they were heading toward a place of promise.
Most werewolves wouldnât risk leaving a safe haven just to wander the wilds. Yet here they were, choosing to go to another pack instead. It was understandable but dangerous. The question was, what was Steve supposed to do about it? And more importantly, what was Rogan supposed to do?
A request had already been granted once. If they began denying future ones, wouldnât that create resentment within the camp? Wouldnât that make the others feel trapped, exactly as Rogan himself had once feared?
Steve rubbed the back of his neck, pacing in front of the campfire as he thought. Truthfully, he wanted time to consider how best to frame this to Rogan. He knew this wouldnât be the last request. The curiosity spreading among the rescued wolves was too strong to be ignored.
But time was a luxury he didnât have. The group that wanted to leave had grown restless. They whispered to one another in corners, voices filled with urgency. An idea had taken root among them, they wanted to speak to Rogan directly.
That meant Steve could no longer delay.
He found Rogan later that evening in his stone-walled chamber, the same one where they held meetings. The torches on the walls flickered softly, casting long shadows across the pelts and carvings that decorated the space. Rogan sat at the end of the room, his presence calm but heavy, the weight of leadership always visible in his stance.
âRogan,â Steve began carefully, âI think these wolves just want to see what the other side is like. This isnât about your leadership. Theyâre not rebelling, theyâre just curious.â
Roganâs expression didnât change, so Steve continued, his words flowing faster as he found his rhythm.
âTheyâve enjoyed their time here,â he said earnestly. âThey like the people, the safety, the work. But they canât help imagining what life might be like somewhere else. They donât know what the Redwing pack is really like, so their minds fill in the blanks. They dream of something perfect because theyâve never seen it.â
He took a breath, his voice softening. âThis isnât a rejection of you. But I understand where their feelings come from. Iâve had those same thoughts myself. Maybe... maybe itâs time we looked beyond these mountains too. If we explored together, or even expanded our borders a little, if we traded with other towns, built connections, we could strengthen our reputation. We could make our name known without losing who we are.â
As Steve spoke, his words carried more conviction. He could see it, the kind of world heâd always imagined. A place where werewolves didnât need to hide, where their pack could thrive openly without fear. In his mindâs eye, it looked almost like what his brother Jack had built in the Redwing Kingdom.
But Steveâs version was different. His dream was of a sanctuary built by werewolves, for werewolves. A home under their own control, not one dependent on human tolerance or royal favor.
Rogan listened patiently, his sharp eyes never leaving Steve. When Steve finally paused, Rogan leaned forward, his tone calm but steady.
âItâs okay,â he said. âI understand their worries, and yours as well. Iâll speak to each of them individually. Iâll remind them what the world outside was like for us. The cages. The hunts. The hatred.â
He exhaled deeply before continuing. âIf, after hearing that, they still wish to go, then theyâre free to leave. I believe keeping them here unwillingly would cause more harm than letting them go. You know as well as I do, Steve, many among us were too deeply scarred by the outside world. It broke something in them. Some canât even stand to hear a humanâs voice without rage boiling up.â
Steve nodded quietly. Rogan was right. There were those within the pack who still carried deep hatred, wolves who would never forgive the world that had hunted them. They stayed far from human lands by choice, wanting nothing but distance and peace.
Steve had once been like them too. Before he met Jack, before the Redwing Kingdom showed him another way, he had believed that humans and werewolves could never coexist. But time had changed him, and he was grateful Rogan wasnât one of the extremists. Rogan held the fragile balance, allowing those filled with anger to have a home without letting their hatred rule the pack.
As promised, Rogan met with each of the four who wished to leave. He took his time with them, listening carefully, reminding them of what they had escaped from, and what dangers still lurked beyond the campâs borders.
But their hearts were already set. No matter what Rogan said, they wanted to go. They wanted to see for themselves whether the rumors about the Redwing Kingdom were true.
And so, one by one, they left.
Days passed. Then weeks. Around the fires, whispers began to rise once again. Some wondered aloud if the ones who had left might return, realizing that life among the Redwing wolves wasnât as idyllic as they imagined. Maybe they would come back and tell the others that this camp, the one Rogan had built, was the better home after all.
But none of them came back.
Their absence spoke louder than words. And their silence only made others more curious. Perhaps, some began to think, the Redwing camp really was a better way of life.
Despite it all, Steve continued to fulfill his duties. He led his team on missions, gathered supplies, and carried out rescue operations just as before. The structure of daily life hadnât changed, even if the atmosphere felt subtly different, quieter, more uncertain.
Then came their next quest, a major one. The payout was substantial, a large amount of gold promised upon completion. It was the kind of mission that would keep the camp supplied for months.
Steve and his group carried it out with precision and experience, completing it without loss or delay. But when the task was finished, something else caught Steveâs attention.
As he looked over the map and the path they had taken, he realized something. The mission site was close, closer than he had expected, to the borders of the Redwing Kingdom.
He stood at the crest of a hill overlooking the valley, wind brushing through his hair as he stared toward the distant horizon.
âItâs been a while, hasnât it?â he thought to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips. âMaybe... itâs time I pay him a visit.â
****
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