Yara felt the heat of embarrassment flush through her as the misunderstanding became apparent. She had only meant to show she was paying attention and agreed with the Warlord. Lowering her head, she silently berated herself for speaking out of turn. Her position was clear—she was a slave, not a leader, and should remember her place.
As she listened to the others speak, her thoughts drifted. Despite her status, she cared deeply for these wolves. They had saved her from a life of solitude and given her a place, even if it was at the bottom of the hierarchy. The pack was her family, and she would do anything to protect them, even if it meant enduring her position without complaint.
She watched Ignita, noting the concern in her eyes for her unborn pups. Basilisk's strength and resolve were admirable, and Wilder's condition reminded her of the fragility of their situation. Yara's heart ached for them, for all of them. She had experienced loss and knew the pain of losing loved ones.
Her loyalty was to the pack, not just because of her status, but because she genuinely cared. She would follow their lead, support them in any way she could, and hope that one day, her contributions would be seen as more than just the duty of a slave. For now, she remained silent, observing and learning, ready to act when needed.
