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"What is bound before the pack is acknowledged by both human and wolf," Victoria intones. "Thomas and Fiona, your wolves have recognized each other as true mates. Do you now acknowledge this bond in your human forms, accepting all that comes with such a connection?"

"We do," we say in unison, the words hanging in the air like a physical force.

Something shifts between us—a settling, a recognition deeper than words. My wolf rises close to the surface, sensing its mate, its family, its pack all aligned in perfect harmony.

"Then, by the authority granted by the Council of Packs and the ancestors who watch over Silvercreek, I declare this binding complete." Victoria raises her hands. "The pack witnesses and celebrates Thomas and Fiona, true mates, and welcomes Maisie Wright-Ennes as the daughter of their union."

A cheer rises from the gathered pack, the solemn ceremony giving way to celebration. Maisie bounces with excitement as Victoria carefully unwinds the binding cords, preserving them to be displayed in our home as a reminder of this day.

"Now," Victoria says with a smile, "we welcome young Maisie officially to the pack."

Maisie's welcome ceremony, usually performed for newborns, has been modified to honor her unique situation.

She stands between Fiona and me, practically vibrating with excitement as Elder Victoria presents her with the traditional pack amulet—a small silver disk etched with Silvercreek's mountain and wolf symbol.

"Maisie Wright-Ennes," Victoria announces, "daughter of Thomas and Fiona, we acknowledge you as pack, as family, as one who carries our legacy in her blood and bones."

Pack members approach one by one, offering small gifts and blessings.

Nic and Luna present her with a child-sized leather jacket embossed with the pack symbol.

Ruby gives her a handcrafted dream catcher, James adding a small carved wolf to accompany it.

Each gift acknowledges her place among them, wrapping her in the protection of the community.

"Would you like to show the pack what you've learned?" I ask her quietly when the gift-giving concludes.

Maisie nods eagerly, stepping forward with newfound confidence. Under our careful guidance this past month, she's learned to control partial shifts—a skill many young shifters don't master until puberty.

She concentrates, her small face serious, and extends one arm.

Before the pack's appreciative eyes, fur ripples along her forearm, her hand transforming into a perfect miniature wolf paw.

She holds the partial shift for nearly thirty seconds before releasing it, beaming with pride as the pack applauds her control.

"That's my girl," I whisper, fierce pride mingling with lingering sadness for the milestones I missed. As if sensing my thoughts, Fiona's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. She understands without words—the complex mixture of joy and grief that colors my love for our daughter.

The formal ceremonies complete, the Hollow transforms again as tables appear laden with food, musicians strike up lively tunes, and the pack relaxes into celebration.

I find myself at the center of it all, accepting congratulations, watching in wonder as Maisie darts between pack members, already comfortable in her belonging.

"May I have this dance?" I ask my daughter as the music shifts to a playful melody. She giggles as I lift her, placing her tiny feet on top of mine so we can sway together.

"Like this, Daddy?" she asks, gripping my hands for balance.

"Just like that, pup." I move carefully, treasuring her delighted laughter. "You're a natural."

Fiona joins us, sliding into the circle of my arm, her head resting against my shoulder as we three move together in perfect synchronicity.

"Happy?" she asks softly.

I look down at her—my mate, officially and completely mine after six years of emptiness—and at Maisie, the miracle we created together. "Beyond words."

The celebration continues around us, the pack rejoicing in our union while we exist in our own small bubble of contentment. Eventually, Maisie spots her friends and dashes off to play, leaving Fiona and me to mingle with the adults.

Nic pulls me aside briefly; business is never entirely suspended. "The Council sent word," he says, keeping his voice low. "Edward's anti-shifter rhetoric has spread to some of the neighboring human communities. Nothing we can't handle, but something to watch."

"We'll be ready," I assure him, newfound protectiveness for my family extending to encompass the entire pack. "Whatever comes, we face it together."

The concern passes quickly, unable to take root on a night dedicated to celebration. I return to Fiona's side, watching as Maisie proudly demonstrates another partial shift to a circle of impressed pack children.

"She's incredible," Fiona says, leaning against me. "Every day, she surprises me."

"She gets that from her mother." I press a kiss to her temple, still marveling that I can do so freely, openly, without fear.

Later, as the celebration winds down, we find ourselves across the clearing from each other.

Fiona's eyes meet mine over the heads of departing pack members, a silent message passing between us that sends heat curling through my veins.

Not yet, but soon. The promise hangs between us as we gather our sleepy daughter and accept final congratulations.

***

Maisie falls asleep on the short walk home, her head heavy against my shoulder, exhausted from excitement and shifting practice. Together, Fiona and I tuck her into bed, lingering in the doorway to watch her peaceful breathing.

"She didn't even stir," Fiona whispers as we retreat to the living room. "Out cold."

"Big day for a little wolf." I settle on the couch that has become mine this past month, though I've rarely slept on it—most nights, find me in Fiona's bed, our bodies relearning each other with increasing boldness.

Tonight feels different. Official. The start of something permanent rather than tentative.

Fiona curls beside me, her ceremonial dress shimmering in the low lamplight. "Nic asked if you'd officially accept your first extension in the second-in-command position," she says. "Said the pack vote was unanimous. That’ll be another five years."

"I told him I would." My fingers trace lazy patterns on her arm. "It feels right, especially with everything that's happening. And if not me, it’ll be James, and he’s an idiot.”

We both laugh, mostly because it’s true.

But there’s a darkness there, too. The specter of Edward's legacy—the anti-shifter sentiment he cultivated, now spreading beyond his direct influence—hovers at the edges of our awareness. Not enough to threaten our happiness, but a reality we can't ignore.

"I've been thinking about going back to school," Fiona says, shifting to look up at me. "The community college in Riverton has a program for shifters. I could finish the degree my father made me abandon."

"That's wonderful." I mean it completely, admiration swelling in my chest for this woman who, despite everything she's endured, still reaches for growth and fulfillment. "Whatever you need to make it happen—childcare, time, support—it's yours."

She smiles, the expression holding a confidence that grows stronger each day. "We'd have to juggle schedules, and Maisie would need to start kindergarten..."

"We'll make it work." I pull her closer, reveling in the simple rightness of making plans together. "That's what families do."

"Speaking of family," she says carefully, "I know it's too soon to think about it seriously, but someday...would you want more children?"

The question catches me off guard, not unpleasantly. The image of another child—a brother or sister for Maisie, another miracle created between us—fills me with unexpected longing.

"Someday," I agree, equally careful. "When we're ready. When Maisie's older and we've had time to just be us for a while."

Fiona nods, satisfaction in her expression. "That's what I thought too. No rush, but...possibility."

"Possibility," I echo, liking the sound of it—the open-ended promise of a future we'll build together.

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the events of the day settling around us like falling leaves. Then Fiona stands, extending her hand to me with a smile that holds secrets.

"Come with me," she says, leading me not toward the bedroom as I expect, but toward the front door.

"Where are we going?" I ask, following willingly despite my confusion. "It's late."

Her smile turns mysterious. "Not far."

Curiosity piqued, I let her lead me into the night.

The forest embraces us, familiar paths silvered by moonlight.

Fiona moves with purpose, guiding me deeper into the trees until we reach a small clearing I recognize from pack runs—secluded, private, with a natural hollow of soft moss at its center.

Only tonight, the clearing has been transformed. Lanterns hang from low branches, casting intimate golden light over a space that's been prepared with obvious care. Blankets cover the moss, creating a natural bed beneath the star-strewn sky.

"Fiona," I breathe, understanding dawning as she turns to face me.

"Our first time together as official mates," she says, suddenly shy despite her bold planning. "I wanted it to be special. Away from the cottage, just us and the forest and the moon."

I pull her into my arms, overwhelmed by the thought she's put into this moment. "It's perfect. You're perfect."

Her arms wind around my neck, drawing me closer. "I wanted to show you that I'm not afraid anymore—not of being a shifter, not of loving you, not of anything."

The kiss begins gently, a soft press of lips that quickly deepens into something more urgent. Six years of separation, a month of careful rebuilding, and now nothing stands between us—no secrets, no misunderstandings, no shadows from the past.

"I love you," I murmur against her lips. "I never stopped, not for one day."

Her hands find the buttons of my ceremonial shirt, her fingers sure and steady. "Show me," she whispers, a challenge and invitation in her amber eyes. "Show me how much."