POV: Markus
Markus hated festivals.
He especially hated festivals that required diplomacy.
The Regional Gathering only happened once every five years, and every Alpha within traveling distance was expected to attend. It was one of those political traditions that nobody truly enjoyed but everyone participated in because refusing would create unnecessary tension between packs.
If it were up to him, he would have remained in Bluestone Pack.
Instead, he was currently standing among hundreds of wolves while pretending to enjoy himself.
His Beta, Ethan, noticed his expression.
“You look like you’re attending a funeral.”
Markus took a sip of his drink.
“It feels like one.”
Ethan sighed.
“You’ve been complaining since we left.”
“Because I didn’t want to come.”
“You never want to come.
