The morning sun filters through the window, its rays hitting your eyes and pulling you from sleep. Squinting, you blink away the haze and instinctively reach out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty.

Of course. Muriel has always been an early riser.

With a soft groan, you roll out of bed and wrap a small blanket around your shoulders before heading outside. Passing the fireplace, you smile at the sight of the wolves curled up together, sleeping peacefully.

When you reach the front door, you open it quietly, careful not to disturb the tranquil morning air. There he is, your husband, his broad frame crouched slightly as he feeds the chickens.

He hums a low tune to himself, his movements calm and deliberate.

For a moment, you just watch him, marveling at the gentle man he’s become. It’s almost hard to believe this is the same person who once kept the world at arm’s length, distant and wary. Yet here he is, humming to chickens and making your little home feel like the safest place on earth.