Chapter Five: The Ones Who Stayed
Freya decided to leave at dawn.
Not because she was chased away.
Not because anyone told her to go.
But because staying felt like slowly drowning.
The pack was already awake when she stepped outside. Morning mist lay low over the grounds, softening the sharp edges of buildings and memories alike. The air smelled of damp earth and pine. Somewhere in the distance, wolves shifted forms, preparing for patrol.
This place had been her home.
And it had never truly been hers.
Freya adjusted the simple cloak around her shoulders and began to walk.
She did not go to the great hall.
She did not go to her brother.
She went to the pack hospital.
The building stood near the eastern ridge, half-hidden by old oak trees. It was quieter than the rest of the compound, always smelling of herbs and warm water. As a child, Freya had spent many afternoons here, watching healers work and listening to elders tell stories.
Some kindness had lived here.
That was why she came.
Inside, the familiar scent wrapped around her. A healer looked up from grinding herbs.
"Lady Freya," the woman said in surprise. "You should still be resting."
Freya smiled faintly. "I needed to see someone."
The healer hesitated, then nodded. "Elder Rowan is in the back. And Elder Mira."
Freya's heart softened.
Rowan and Mira.
They had always been kind. Always careful with their words, but never cruel.
She walked down the narrow hall until she reached a small room filled with sunlight. Elder Rowan sat by the window, his silver hair tied back loosely. Elder Mira stood near a shelf, sorting dried leaves.
They both looked up.
Rowan smiled first. "Ah. The alpha's daughter."
Freya shook her head gently. "Just Freya."
Mira's eyes softened. "You look thinner."
Freya laughed quietly. "I feel lighter."
They studied her more closely then. Something in her posture. Something calmer. Older.
Rowan gestured to a chair. "Sit. You didn't come for tea."
"No," Freya admitted. "I came to say goodbye."
The word hung in the air.
Mira's hands stilled. "Goodbye?"
"Yes."
Rowan leaned back slowly. "You're leaving the pack."
Freya nodded. "Before I'm told to."
Silence followed.
Then Mira stepped forward and took Freya's hands in hers. "You were always brave," she said softly. "Even when you shouldn't have had to be."
Freya swallowed. "I don't know where I'm going yet."
"That's all right," Rowan said. "The world is wide."
Freya hesitated, then spoke quietly. "I don't want anyone to think I ran because I was weak."
Mira smiled sadly. "Those who know you will never think that."
"And those who don't," Rowan added, "were never worth explaining yourself to."
Freya felt tears burn behind her eyes, but she blinked them away.
"I wanted to thank you," she said. "For the times you helped me when no one else noticed."
Mira squeezed her hands. "We noticed."
Rowan nodded. "We always did."
A knock sounded at the door.
A young woman peeked inside. "Elder Mira? The morning round—" She stopped when she saw Freya. "Oh!"
Freya recognized her immediately. "Lena."
Lena's face brightened. "You're awake!"
"Yes," Freya said gently.
Lena stepped fully into the room. She was one of the nurses, quick with a smile and quicker with her temper when injustice showed itself.
"You look like you're about to disappear," Lena said jokingly.
Freya met her gaze. "I am."
Lena's smile faded. "You're leaving."
Freya nodded.
Lena looked angry for a moment—then sad. "I wish I could say I'm surprised."
Freya reached out and hugged her. Lena froze, then hugged back tightly.
"You deserved better," Lena muttered.
"I still do," Freya replied.
Another figure appeared at the door—tall, broad-shouldered, leaning heavily on a cane.
"Elder Tomas," Freya said softly.
The old warrior snorted. "Don't look at me like that. I can still smell a farewell from a mile away."
He stepped closer, his sharp eyes studying her. "You've changed."
Freya smiled. "I had to."
He nodded once. "Good."
They stood together in quiet understanding.
Tomas cleared his throat. "I once swore to your father I would protect you."
Freya's chest tightened. "You did."
"I failed," he said gruffly.
"No," Freya said firmly. "You stayed kind in a place that rewarded cruelty."
Tomas looked away.
Rowan spoke gently. "You don't owe this pack your suffering, child."
Freya nodded. "I know now."
She took a step back, looking at all of them.
"I won't forget you," she said. "No matter what happens."
Mira smiled. "And we will remember you as you were meant to be."
Freya bowed her head slightly—a sign of respect, not submission.
Then she turned and walked away.
Outside, the sun had climbed higher.
She passed familiar paths, familiar walls. A few pack members watched her go. Some whispered. Some looked away. A few nodded quietly.
She did not stop.
At the outer gate, she paused.
Once, she had been dragged through these gates unconscious. Once, they had closed behind her.
This time, they stood open.
Freya stepped through.
The wind brushed her face, cool and clean.
She did not look back.
Somewhere far away—far beyond her hearing—something ancient stirred.
But Freya walked on, unaware.
For now.