{"Home is not a place…it's a feeling,"}
FLORA'S POV
The first thing I felt when we crossed the border was the pull in my chest, faint, electric, like the land itself exhaled in welcome in the Bay shifter territory. The salt hung heavy in the air, the scent of the sea mixing with pine resin and ancient wolf magic. I closed my eyes and let it coat my lungs. After weeks in the mountains, we were back. Behind me, I heard her. Rita's boots hit the earth, heavy and sure. Her presence was a fire at my back, always steady, always near. My mate. My Rougarou. Wild-souled, rough around the edges, and more constant than the moons.
She came up beside me, her scent grounding me. Smelled like smoke and iron and the blood of the mountain she had just helped me tame. "You're quiet," she said, voice low, rough as ever. "Thinking?"
I crouched, fingers skimming the moss-covered roots of an old sentinel tree. Power still pulsed faintly beneath it, a heartbeat. "Listening," I murmured.
