Chapter 4 : Between Expectations
742 Words
The pack moved differently after the announcement.
Not fearfully.
Just… sharper.
Warriors trained longer. Patrol routes doubled. Even the younger wolves seemed to stand straighter, as if the mere idea of the Supreme Alpha’s heirs watching them demanded better posture.
Lyra noticed everything.
She just didn’t say much about it.
“You’re staring again,” Rowan said, dropping down beside her on the wooden fence overlooking the training grounds.
“I’m observing,” she corrected.
“You do that when you’re overthinking.”
She shot him a look. “Why does everyone assume I overthink?”
“Because you do.”
Mira jogged over, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Are we discussing Lyra’s tragic personality flaws without me?”
“Excuse me?” Lyra said.
“Relax,” Mira grinned. “Your flaw is caring too much.”
“That’s not a flaw.”
“In this world?” Rowan raised a brow. “It can be.”
Lyra looked back at the field.
Her father was instructing a group of warriors, his voice firm but measured. He never yelled unnecessarily. He didn’t need to. Respect carried further than volume.
“I don’t want him worrying,” she said quietly.
Rowan followed her gaze. “He’s not worried about you.”
“Yes, he is.”
“He’s preparing his pack,” Rowan corrected. “That includes you. That’s not the same thing.”
She wasn’t sure she believed that.
Later that afternoon, the three of them were assigned to help decorate the main hall for the upcoming gathering. Fabric in deep pack colors was being draped along beams. Lanterns were being polished.
Mira climbed a ladder effortlessly. “If one of the heirs turns out to be ugly, I’m suing.”
Lyra laughed despite herself. “You’re unbelievable.”
Rowan glanced at her. “You’re not curious at all?”
“About what?”
“About them.”
She hesitated.
“Not really.”
That was only half true.
She wasn’t curious about their power.
She was curious about their lives.
What did it feel like to grow up knowing you would rule everyone?
Did they get normal dinners?
Did they get to fail quietly?
Did they get to just exist?
Or were they measured every second like she was?
“Earth to Lyra,” Mira called from above.
Lyra blinked. “What?”
“You zoned out again.”
“Shut up.”
They worked until sunset, laughter mixing with the noise of preparation.
By the time Lyra got home, she was exhausted in the good way — the kind that came from doing something with your hands instead of your thoughts.
Her mother was setting the table again.
“You’ve been busy,” she observed.
“Apparently we’re hosting royalty.”
Her mother smiled. “You say that like you’re not part of it.”
Lyra rolled her eyes and dropped into her chair.
During dinner, her father mentioned that confirmation had arrived.
“They’ll reach our territory in ten days.”
Ten.
The number settled into her chest.
That was real.
“That’s soon,” her mother said calmly.
“It is,” he agreed.
Lyra tried to ignore the way her pulse had quickened.
Rowan’s words echoed in her head.
You’re not curious?
She was.
She just didn’t want to admit it.
After dinner, she stepped outside again, drawn to the quiet.
The territory lights flickered softly across the land. Somewhere in the distance, wolves were laughing. It sounded normal. Safe.
But ten days felt like a countdown.
Footsteps approached.
Rowan.
“You disappear every night now,” he said.
“I like thinking.”
“You like worrying.”
She didn’t deny it.
“What if they look at us and see something lacking?” she asked suddenly.
Rowan leaned against the railing beside her.
“Then they’re blind.”
“That’s not realistic.”
“Neither is assuming we’re inadequate before they even arrive.”
She glanced at him.
“You really think we’re fine?”
“I know we are.”
His confidence was steady. Solid.
She wished hers felt the same.
In the distance, a patrol howl echoed — routine, controlled.
Everything was still as it had always been.
But Lyra couldn’t shake the feeling that when those ten days ended—
Something about her world would shift.
And she wouldn’t be able to step back into who she used to be.
- Writer
