Chapter 114 Family Bonds

Chapter 114 Family Bonds
The years passed as years do—slowly when you were living through them, quickly when you looked back. Damon's tenth birthday came and went with the usual celebration: a feast, some gifts, stories told around the fire. Ayla turned seven a few months later, her celebration smaller but no less joyful. They were growing, both of them, in ways that Elara noticed every day and Caleb pretended not to see.

Damon had lost the roundness of early childhood, his face sharpening, his body lengthening. He moved with a confidence that had not been there a year ago, his steps sure, his decisions quick. He had made friends among the pack's other children, formed bonds that would last a lifetime, learned to navigate the complicated social waters of a community that was both family and something more.

Ayla had grown too, though in different ways. Her healing gift had matured, becoming more reliable, more controlled. She could now close wounds that would have taken Elara hours of work, her touch light, her concentration fierce. The pack had begun to notice, to seek her out for minor injuries, to speak of her with the same reverence they once reserved for Maya.

Kael, now three, was still too young for such responsibilities. He spent his days following his siblings, imitating their words, their gestures, their attitudes. He had not yet shown any sign of a gift—no early shifting, no healing touch, no unusual connection to the animal world. But he was happy, and healthy, and that was enough.

\---

One evening, after the children were fed and bathed and settled by the fire, Elara found herself sitting between Caleb and the warmth of the flames, watching her family with a contentment that felt almost like peace.

Damon was whittling a piece of wood, his knife moving with careful precision, his tongue poking out in concentration. He was making something—a wolf, perhaps, or a bird; it was too early to tell. Ayla was reading, her lips moving silently as she sounded out the words, her finger tracing each line. She had learned early, faster than Damon had, and she devoured books the way other children devoured sweets.

Kael was asleep on a pile of furs, his small face peaceful, his breathing soft.

Caleb reached over and took Elara's hand, his fingers warm against hers. He did not say anything, just held on, his thumb tracing small circles on her palm.

"Bak ne kadar büyüdüler," he said finally, his voice low, almost wondering.

Elara followed his gaze to where Damon was working and Ayla was reading and Kael was sleeping. "Zaman çok hızlı geçiyor. Too fast. I blink, and they're another year older."

"That's how it works. That's how it's supposed to work."

"I know." She sighed, leaning against him. "I just wish it would slow down sometimes. I want to remember every moment."

"You will." He kissed her hair. "That's what parents do. We remember."

Damon looked up from his whittling, his eyes moving from his father to his mother. "What are you whispering about?"

"Nothing," Elara said. "Just watching you."

"I'm almost done." He held up the piece of wood, now clearly recognizable as a wolf. "It's for Ayla. For her birthday."

Ayla looked up from her book, her eyes widening. "You made me a wolf?"

"Not yet. Almost."

She set down her book and crawled over to him, peering at the carving with undisguised admiration. "It's beautiful, Damon."

"It's not finished."

"It's still beautiful."

Damon ducked his head, embarrassed by her praise, but pleased. He returned to his work, his knife moving more carefully now, his concentration deepened by his sister's audience.

Ayla watched for a moment, then turned to her parents. "Baba, ben de senin gibi Alpha olacağım!"

Caleb raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"I'm going to be the best Alpha the pack has ever seen. Stronger than you, stronger than Uncle Damon, stronger than anyone."

"Those are big words for a seven-year-old."

"I'm not going to be seven forever." She crossed her arms, her chin lifting. "I'm going to grow up, and I'm going to lead, and everyone will know my name."

Caleb glanced at Elara, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think? Should I be worried?"

"I think she's going to be exactly what the pack needs." Elara reached out and pulled Ayla into a hug. "Just like you are."

Damon, not to be outdone, set down his carving and announced, "I'm going to be a healer. Like Mama. Like Aunt Luna."

"You want to be a healer?" Elara asked, surprised. Damon had never shown much interest in healing before, preferring the physical challenges of hunting and tracking.

"I want to help people." He shrugged, as if it were obvious. "Ayla's going to be Alpha. Someone needs to keep her alive."

Ayla stuck out her tongue at him. "I can keep myself alive."

"You can't heal yourself."

"Can too."

"Can not."

"Can too."

"Enough." Caleb's voice was mild, but the children fell silent. "You can both be whatever you want to be. There's no shortage of need in this pack."

Damon picked up his carving again, muttering under his breath. Ayla returned to her book, her expression mutinous. The fire crackled, and the cabin settled into comfortable silence.

Elara watched her children, her heart full to bursting. They were so different, Damon and Ayla—one quiet and steady, one fierce and bright—but they loved each other. She saw it in the way Damon had carved a wolf for his sister's birthday, in the way Ayla had admired his work, in the way they argued and made up and argued again.

"Gururla birbirlerine baktılar," Caleb said, and for a moment, Elara was not sure if he meant the children or themselves.

"Both," she said. "I'm proud of all of you."

Caleb squeezed her hand. "Good. That's how it should be."

\---

Later, after the children were asleep and the fire had burned down to embers, Elara sat alone in the quiet. She was thinking about the future—about Damon as a healer, Ayla as Alpha, Kael as whatever he would become. She was thinking about the weight of parenting, the responsibility of raising children who would one day lead and heal and protect.

Caleb found her there, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor. "Can't sleep?"

"Just thinking."

He settled beside her, his shoulder pressing against hers. "About?"

"The children. The future. Whether we're doing enough."

"We're doing plenty." He took her hand again, his fingers interlacing with hers. "They're happy. They're healthy. They have each other. That's more than most children get."

"I want them to have everything."

"They have everything that matters."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, letting his certainty soothe her worries. "When did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. You just weren't ready to listen."

She laughed, the sound soft in the darkness. "Maybe."

"Definitely."

They sat together, watching the embers glow, listening to the soft breathing of their children. Outside, the wind stirred the trees, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.

"Bilge ve Alpha," Caleb said. "What a pair we'll be."

" Bilge ve Alpha," Elara agreed. "What a family we've made."