Rafe
I stand on the large wooden deck outside the repurposed mountain ski lodge that now serves as my pack’s headquarters and home. The direct light of the midwinter sun has snow melting in patches. I step carefully from bare patch to patch, avoiding sheets of ice. My feet are bare and so is my chest. I’m dressed in nothing but sweatpants, but I don’t feel the cold.
When I reach the railing, I lean against it and relax, drinking in the view. We’re in the thick woods, but the previous owner built the deck on a small bluff overlooking the snow-streaked mountain and valley. Overhead is a baby blue sky empty of clouds.
My wolf loves the thick clusters of pine. The sight soothes him. We’re safe in these mountains, tucked into the woods. And for this conversation, I want all the reassurance I
