The path through the woods was a longer one than Fox had been expecting, and he realized it was a different path than the one the Betas had dragged him down. He followed Leyra in silence, keeping an arm's length distance. He took advantage of his position behind her and studied her physique a little more.

Leyra had broad, strong shoulders, thick muscled thighs and upper arms, and Fox deduced that she would have no problem lifting him up above her head and chucking him twenty feet away. He noticed that she had a light brown skin color, and a tattoo of a wolf’s paw print on her forearm; the style suggested the paw print had been ink-pressed. She was also taller than him by at least four inches, maybe. Fox felt small next to her, even though on his own, “small" wouldn't be a word most would describe him as. 

Leyra looked back at him, probably feeling his gaze. He averted his eyes downward, watching his feet as he walked. “So how much baggage can we expect from you?” she asked. Her tone suggested that she had asked that question many times before. Fox wondered just how many lone wolves had trespassed here.

“How much do you think I have?” Fox asked, curious about what she thought of him by just appearance alone. He tried to keep his tone light and polite. He didn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side right off the bat. Or at least, not more so than he already was.

He glanced up at her face to gauge her reaction to his question, and saw her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pressed in a thin line. Fox couldn’t tell if she was thinking, or mildly affronted. Fox lowered his gaze again. 

“You seem like you carry a lot of grief,” she said. Fox’s heart squeezed in his chest. He wondered if it was the slouch in his shoulders, or the downward tilt of his chin, or maybe his not-so-confident gate. Maybe it was in his eyes, a certain emptiness she could see. Sometimes grief was easy to spot, if it came in the form of apathy, sadness, or anger. Fox didn’t care about hiding any of that. Well, he didn’t have much energy for anger anymore.

“Am I right?” she pressed. She didn’t sound haughty, but she didn’t sound completely sympathetic, either. Maybe a lot of the lone wolves here carried grief, and there was only so much sympathy to go around. She probably had to keep her head in the Alpha game.

“Yes…” Fox murmured. 

“Who did you lose?” Leyra asked. Fox thought that these questions were too personal for having just met. He didn’t think he owed her an answer until they knew each other better; until Fox knew whether or not she cared at all. He kept silent.

Alpha Leyra waited for a few moments, then relented. “Not ready to say? That’s fine,” she said. “Just don’t let your grief become a problem.”

Fox felt a sting of indignation in his gut. So they thought that grief was a problem? Something no one else should deal with? He wondered what tragedy the pack members could’ve possibly gone through, if any at all. There probably wasn’t a lot of death here, none that mattered. Fox had a feeling that no pack wolf here understood just how much it hurt to lose someone you loved. They probably didn’t understand other forms of grief that Fox had experienced, either. Losing a friend to a stranger, losing a companion to a different path, losing belongings that you worked hard to get. All of those amounted to emotional loss, especially when you were a lone wolf.

“Have you lost anyone?” Fox asked, voice vaguely heated with hurt. He stared at her head, and she glanced back at him again.

“No. And, sorry. I’m not discrediting your loss, but I need you to understand it’s important not to let your grief cause you to harm others. You hurt someone here, there’s not a lot of forgiveness for you. It doesn’t matter if you hurt someone because you’re hurting. You need to figure out a healthy way to let out that pain,” she told him.

Fox had a feeling that this pack didn’t provide healthy outlets, and he was expected to figure it out on his own. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, brushing away his annoyance and offense. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t planning on getting into any fights, regardless of how badly his grief was hurting him at times. He had already learned that it was better to let his grief out when he was alone, and not in the company of others.

“Anything else I should know about? Any triggers?” Leyra asked next. Fox mentally flipped through the pages of his memories for anything that had really affected him badly. Abandonment was one, but he had learned to expect that, so it wasn’t really a trigger. Betrayal was another thing he already expected. He thought about all the times he’d gotten angry or upset. He thought about all the times he’d been terrified and in pain.

“I… I don’t like the smell of antiseptic, or latex. I don’t like hospitals, or doctors,” he admitted. 

“Hmm. Duly noted. I’ll make sure you’re kept away from the medical sector,” she said. A minor feeling of emotional whiplash came over Fox. How could she have no sympathy for expressing hurt through violence, but have enough to promise him he’d be kept away from things he was afraid of? 

Maybe it was just another way for her to ensure he wouldn’t panic and hurt someone. Maybe there was no sympathy involved at all. 

Fox was starting to feel unsure about how well he would fare here. He reminded himself that he already knew 99% of people he met didn’t care about him or his feelings. 

After a good while of walking, they finally made it to the edge of the woods. The path opened up to another grass field, but a much larger one. Fox took in the sight of four distinctly large houses, spaced out along one big dirt path. That dirt road led down a small hill and wound around through more trees. As Fox followed it with his eyes, he spotted more buildings farther away in the distance.

Rain landed on his cheek, then his arm. He looked at the ground and noticed that it was starting to sprinkle, wet spots dotted sparsely along the soil around him. He turned his gaze to the sky, and noticed the clouds had significantly darkened during their walk.

“Let’s get inside before it starts pouring,” Leyra said. Fox followed her as she led him across the field to one of the houses. The house she took him to was brown with green trim, with lots of windows varying in size and shape. They took a few steps up to a wooden porch, where Fox noticed a few hanging pots where String-of-Pearls grew. Leyra unlocked the front door and stepped inside. A strong smell of eucalyptus wafted over Fox, and the smell staved off any anxiety he felt towards entering the house.