The morning sun dappled through the trees as Rhys led me by the hand deeper into the Silver Moon territory. I'd returned with him to visit his pack two days ago, after our families' joyful reunion at Storm Crest.
"How much farther?" I asked, carefully stepping over a moss-covered log. The forest around us had grown thicker, wilder, unlike the well-traveled paths I remembered from my years living here.
"Not much," Rhys replied, squeezing my hand. "Just trust me."
Trust. Such a simple word, yet one we'd been rebuilding between us, brick by brick, day by day. Three weeks into our reconciliation, I found myself giving it more freely than I ever thought possible.
"I think I hear water," I said, tilting my head as the distant sound of rushing water reached my ears.
Rhys's eyes lit up with boyish excitement. "We're close."
He guided me through a narrow passage between two towering boulders, then placed his hands over my eyes. "No peeking."
