Ava followed Dennis through the winding paths of the makeshift village. It wasn't much of a village, it was more like the scattered remnants of what was once a town.
Dilapidated homes, roofs half-collapsed, windows patched with cloth instead of glass. Walls scarred with claw marks.
And yet, the people there smiled as they moved about. Despite their circumstances, despite the clear signs of struggle, they laughed.
This was going to be her life too.
The pack welcomed her with open arms. They were used to taking in strays, it seemed. And Dennis, the reluctant rogue Alpha that he was, walked beside her, introducing her to the people.
When he led her to his so-called farm, Ava snorted.
"That's not a farm," she said flatly, staring at the small patch of land.
Dennis placed a dramatic hand on his chest. "Excuse you, this is the pride of my existence."
Ava gave him a deadpan look. "There's, like, four different types of crops here."
"Five," Dennis corrected.
