Chapter 40 Return of the Warriors

Chapter 40 Return of the Warriors
Bram

The first morning after Jonah’s visit, Song Pack territory feels more alive. The forest, once eerily quiet, now hums with movement. The soft rustlings of paws and  distant calls of returning warriors are a stark contrast to the barrenness that greeted Lyra and me when we first arrived. Back then, it felt abandoned, a skeleton of what it could be. 

Serena and Mitch are busy organizing the remnants of the pack’s home. Reed clings to Serena’s side most of the morning, darting ahead, then back again, squealing with joy at glimpses of distant wolves.

Lyra crouches beside him once or twice, letting him talk a mile a minute about his father returning home, and I notice how she seems to glow when she interacts with the children. 

Over the next couple of days, warriors trickle in. Some arrive singly, others in small groups, tired from long days on the trail. Some of the younger warriors bound ahead in excited leaps, ears flicking and tails high. The older ones move slower, careful, scanning the surroundings, but their eyes gleam with recognition, with belonging.

The river, previously still, now reflects moving bodies. Wolves run along its banks, branches creak under the weight of returning shifters. I hear the splash of feet in the shallows, the low grumbles of greeting, the occasional sharp bark. Each sound carries signs of life and resilience. I find myself breathing a little easier, though I keep my guard up. This energy is promising, but it’s also fragile. These men don’t know Lyra and me, and we need to earn their trust. 

During this time, we meet Serena’s mate, Reed’s father, for the first time. I find him crouched near the river, teaching Reed to skip stones. The boy squeals each time he lands a stone on the surface, and his dad looks proud. 

“I’m Asher,” he says simply, nodding to Lyra and me. “Reed’s dad.” 

Lyra introduces us both, adding, “It’s good to see the families reuniting.”

As the days pass, we meet more of the returning warriors, each carrying stories and scars. Lyra memorizes names, abilities, and relationships, and I follow her lead, greeting each new arrival, offering a nod or handshake, letting them know we are here, and we are friendly. 

By the fifth day, the clearing is crowded. Campfires dot the edges of the territory, smoke curling lazily toward the sky. The smell of cooked meat mingles with the scent of bass and river water, the best hunters and fishers having returned. 

“We need to meet with everyone soon,” Lyra says, decisively. “Before the Lunarae-Rite, we gather every returning member. Everyone must know who’s leading, who’s carrying out which role, and what our plan will be.”

I nod, letting my gaze sweep the bustling territory. “Agreed. Tomorrow morning. I’ll handle introductions for those we haven’t met yet. You explain the plan. Hopefully, they will share our vision, and everyone will be on board.” 

That evening, after the sun dips low behind the hills, we walk through camp, Lyra’s hand in mine. We pass a group of laughing warriors. Each face tells a story, each expression  a mix of relief and eagerness. 

The time has come. I lift my voice above the buzz. “We are Lyra and Bram of Running River. She was cast out by Alpha Kaelen, and I am her mate. We are ready for vengeance. Lyra’s mother was from Song Pack,” I say, letting the sound carry, “Tomorrow morning, we would like all of you to gather with us at the meeting house. We have a plan we’d like to share with you.”

The words ripple outward. Conversations quiet, then pick up again with sharper edges, charged with anticipation. Lyra glances at me, her eyes blazing with the same fire I feel stirring within me. 



The old meeting house creaks as we walk inside. It’s filled with chatter. Song Pack warriors, young and old, crowd the space. Reed sits between Serena and Asher, who is whittling a small wooden toy. 

Lyra steps forward, and the noise dies. I stay at her side, letting her lead.

“I know you’ve returned from far away pack lands,” she says, her voice cutting through the noise. “All of you have scars, visible and invisible, but today, you’re home. Today, we begin to build something stronger. Something Running River will never take from you again.”

The words sink deep. I watch their reactions. Some are nodding. Some have skepticism written across their faces, but most are alive with the same spark I saw in Lyra,  Serena, and  Mitch. The spark of hope, signalling a pack ready to reclaim its strength.

By the time the meeting ends, groups are set, roles assigned, and every warrior carries the weight of purpose. I know in my chest that when the Lunarae-Rite arrives, Song Pack will be ready.

We step back into the open air, the last light of day spilling gold across the meadow. The land that once felt empty now thrums with life again, carrying the heartbeat of vengeance, and the promise of Song’s future.

“We should get Jorin,” she says, her eyes flashing with amusement. “He’ll definitely want in on this.”

I nod, and without hesitation, we disappear into the tree line and shed our clothes. Together, we release our human forms, fur breaking through skin, paws hitting earth. Without another word, we leap into the trees, running as one toward Jorin’s cabin hidden deep in the woods.

We run swiftly. By the time we reach the cabin tucked deep among the pines, the sun has climbed over the ridge. 

Jorin is outside, splitting logs, pausing mid-strike as we appear at the tree line, lowering the axe and wiping sawdust from his hands.

“Didn’t expect visitors,” he says with a crooked smile. “But I can tell you’ve brought something worth hearing.”

Lyra uses the mind-link. “We’re going after Kaelen again. Do you want to join in the fun?”

“Of course,” he says. His eyes twinkle with mischief.  “I thought you’d never ask.” 

He nods toward the forest, already thinking ahead, ready to join our pack and follow.