Back at the pack house
Jason's boots echoed softly against the polished stone floors of the pack house as he moved through the maze-like hallways of the ground floor. The place was a living, breathing creature; full of life, noise, and an energy that never quite dulled, even on a weekday.
Kids shrieked with laughter as they chased each other down the wide corridors, dodging furniture and weaving between the potted plants that lined the walls. He barely stepped aside in time before two boys, no older than seven, zoomed past him with toy swords raised high. One of them shouted, "For the Alpha! Stop peasant and take your penance!" before turning a corner.
Jason snorted out a laugh. "For the Alpha, my ass," he muttered under his breath, amused.
