The sun barely filtered through the trees of Beacon Hills when Grey ran downhill, dodging roots and branches with the agility of a young wolf. His breathing was steady, and every step made him feel more alive. Beside him, Cora followed, almost catching up, her mix of laughter and challenge throwing him off more than he cared to admit.
"Faster, Grey!" Cora shouted, leaping over a rock and spinning midair with near-perfect grace.
He smiled, almost breathless. "Keep teasing me, and I'll leave you behind!"
From the hill, Derek watched with his arms crossed, his expression caught between pride and severity. Laura, standing beside him, smiled faintly.
"He's got talent," Laura said.
"And too much confidence," Derek replied. "That can be just as dangerous."
When the two young wolves stopped in front of them, covered in sweat and laughter, Derek stepped forward.
"Power isn't about running faster or hitting harder," he said, locking eyes with Grey. "It's about knowing when to do it."
Grey nodded, still catching his breath. "I know… but sometimes it feels like something inside me wants more. Like it's not enough."
From the porch of the cabin, Talia spoke softly, her tone calm but firm. "And that, Grey, is what makes you dangerous… if you don't learn to listen to yourself. Power is like fire—it can protect, or it can destroy."
Training went on for weeks. Laura taught Cora how to stay calm during transformations, while Derek focused on Grey. The woods were filled with grunts, laughter, and the occasional growl echoing between the trees.
One afternoon, while resting by the river, Cora tossed a stone into the water, breaking the silence.
"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if everything went back to how it used to be?" she asked quietly.
Grey watched the sunlight dancing on the water. "I don't know. Even if it did, I don't think we'd be the same anymore."
She looked at him with a soft smile. "You talk like someone much older than you."
"Sometimes I feel that way," he said, shrugging.
The wind moved gently through the trees. Cora reached out and brushed his arm—a brief, almost shy touch, as if she were afraid of breaking something fragile.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered.
Grey felt a different kind of warmth rise in his chest, one that had nothing to do with training. He didn't answer; he just took her hand and held it.
"You'll never have to find out."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was warm—full of all the words they weren't ready to say.
Months passed, and the Hale refuge began to feel like home again. Laughter, arguments, and training filled the air once more. But time brought difficult choices, too. One evening, as the sun dipped low over the trees, Derek gathered everyone in the main room.
"Laura and I have to leave," he said, his voice steady but heavy. "There are other packs we need to speak with—potential allies. We can't stay here for now."
Talia nodded, her face calm though her eyes showed fatigue. "I understand. Just… be careful. Beacon Hills isn't the same anymore."
Laura stepped closer to Grey and Cora, smiling sadly. "You two will be fine. And when we come back, I expect you both to be able to beat me in a fight."
"That's impossible," Grey joked, though his tone carried a trace of sadness.
Cora's eyes glimmered. "We promise not to get into trouble… or at least we'll try."
Derek crouched a little to meet Grey's gaze. "I trust you, Grey. You're part of this family. Don't ever forget that."
Grey nodded, feeling the weight of those words more deeply than he could express.
That night, after the goodbyes, Grey and Cora went out to the clearing where they used to train. The forest was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of crickets and the warm evening air.
"Do you think they'll come back soon?" Cora asked, hugging her knees.
Grey shrugged. "I don't know. But if they don't… we'll wait for them."
She looked at him, her gaze filled with both affection and determination. "You'll stay with me, right?"
Grey looked at her under the pale moonlight. "Always."
And even though he didn't say it out loud, he knew those words carried more than one promise.
Cora smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. The silence returned—peaceful, gentle, and full of everything neither dared to name.
The wind stirred the leaves, and for a moment, Beacon Hills felt calm again.
It was just them, the moon, and the quiet certainty that—for now—they were safe.