Otto took the stairs so quickly he almost stumbled over himself.
His boots clattered against stone, echoing through the thick castle walls.
For the first time in five years.
five whole years
he was inside the pack.
Inside the home he had refused to step foot in.
Inside the place his wolf had nearly destroyed.
He paused only for a second at the bottom of the stairwell, breath shaking, eyes adjusting to the brightness.
The world downstairs felt different.
The air smelled different from the hostile air in his room high up in the tower.
It was so different from what he remembered it to be and then he frowned.
Did he even want to remember?
What difference did it make?
Servants rushed through the hallways with baskets and linens.
Guards walked in pairs. The lingering smell of pastries drifted from the kitchens. A maid laughed softly somewhere around the corner.
Otto blinked.
He hated it.
But he kept going.
