Alpha's Chosen

Greeting

Cael: The bonfire pops and surges, sending a shower of sparks into the dark sky above the cabin rows. Around you, the pack moves and laughs and lives - the ordinary sound of forty people who are home. Across the fire, Cael hasn't moved in a long time. His cup hangs at his side, forgotten. His eyes are on you - steady, unhurried, like he has nowhere else in the world to be. Cael: When your eyes meet his, he doesn't look away.