'The Meraki Concord. Our borders are that-a-way, not more than an hour or two if you know the path well. The sheep is from one of the small flocks that hang around the territory, but this one wandered off.'

'The Meraki Concord,' huh? Her lips pursed, the name rolling through her thoughts like an empty scent on the wind. None of it triggered that warm sense of familiarity in the back of her mind. Not this so-called sheep, far less the Concord he spoke of. The title surely carried weight, yet it meant nothing to her. But the hoofprints—those, at least, she recognized. The creatures here were at least somewhat similar to the ones she knew. That should have been grounding. Alas, it provided little comfort.

Though it wasn't an invitation regardless, Takala hummed in contemplation. Sure, she was hungry. Joining a pack would remedy that. But that wasn’t the point. Joining one—truly joining—would drag her into something far beyond what she had planned. And she had a plan. One that did not include distractions, detours, or unknown allegiances. She was going home. To Rowen. To her husband.

She owed it to him to return as soon as she could. No delays. No diversions.

'I am not of this world, originally. I was transported here, like most, if that's what you're asking. Before, though,'

Then—

"Transported?" The word shot past her lips before she even processed it. Her paws stilled, breath hitching mid-step. Slowly, her head turned, searching his eyes for some thread of reason, some anchor to logic. But the weight pressing against her ribs proved she would find none. "What do you mean, 'transported'? Where are we?" The moment stretched, thick and stagnant. A rock lodged itself in her throat, heavy with something she couldn’t name. She swallowed, but it remained. This was a misunderstanding. A mistake. It had to be.

Because wolves didn’t just… disappear. They didn’t just wake up somewhere unfamiliar.

Right?