Grayson’s Perspective – As dusk settled in, I finished my work in the busy packhouse. I had helped Janice, who worked tirelessly, get the guests from Silverton’s pack settled into their rooms. Quietly following her, I watched as she rushed out of the packhouse, clearly troubled. This worried me; Janice, Brock, and I had always been close, almost like siblings, united by our shared experiences of war. Shrouded by the approaching embrace of twilight, I lingered in the slender shadows cast by the packhouse, my gaze trailing Janice's retreating form as she vanished into the softly lit entrance of our pack hospital. I presumed she sought advice from Alpha Brock, her urgency seemed clear through her facial expressions, a silent storm brewing beneath her purposeful stride. Janice soon reappeared, tears streaming down her cheeks, her chest breathing in and out with sobs. Blinded by grief, she stumbled across the moonlit street and vanished into the dense woods. Silently, I followed an unse
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