Chapter 33
The pottery studio finally settled into stillness.
The scent of wet clay lingered in the air,
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mingling with the faint traces of tension that had yet to fully disperse. Jillian sat at the
wheel, her hands covered in clay, movements
stiff and mechanical. Her knuckles had turned
white from how tightly she gripped the spinning
bowl.
Cecilia sat beside her on a stool, unusually quiet. The little pup kept sneaking glances at Jillian, her bright amber eyes filled with worry.
“Jillian sister…..” she finally whispered, her voice soft as a pup’s whine. “Are you really sad? You don’t look happy today…”
Jillian paused, her fingers faltering on the uneven rim of the bowl. She forced a smile, though her heart was still trembling.
“No, sweetie. Don’t worry about me.” Her voice was gentle but thin. “Keep working on your little bowl. It’s coming out beautifully.”
Without a word, Alpha George approached and placed a warm cup of water beside her hand,
His movements were quiet, deliberate.
“Want to take a break?” he asked softly.
Jillian shook her head. Her eves dropped to the
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misshapen bowl on the wheel, its warped sides. slumping unevenly. It looked exactly how she felt–fragile, unbalanced.
“Leon and Yolanda…” she murmured, barely louder than a breath, “They looked so thin.”
George didn’t reply. He simply remained by her side, a steady, calming presence–like a guardian wolf watching over his denmates.
Sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting long, dappled beams across. the workspace. The golden light made the glaze on Cecilia’s unfinished bowl sparkle faintly.
Suddenly, Cecilia’s ears perked up, a spark of excitement lighting her face.
“Uncle!” she chirped. “Let’s make a present for Jillian sister!”
George arched a brow, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh? What kind of
present?”
“A house!” she exclaimed. “A little clay house! That way, Jillian sister will have a new home!”
Jillian’s heart clenched.
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She turned toward Cecilia, watching the little pup eagerly pat and shape the clay into at crooked roof. And then her gaze shifted to Alpha George–who was kneeling beside the child, offering gentle instructions, patient and quiet.
At some point, without even realizing it, these two had become her safe place. Her quiet
corner in a world that had once turned cold.
“Cecilia,” Jillian asked softly, “Why do you want
to make a house for me?”
The little girl looked up at her, all innocence and clarity, her voice ringing with simple truth. “Because Jillian sister is sad. And Uncle said
a real home should make you feel happy. So I wanna build one that makes you smile.”
Jillian’s throat closed, and her eyes stung
again.
George cleared his throat awkwardly, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. His ears flushed pink beneath his dark hair. “Kids…. they really don’t hold back, huh? Jillian…. please don’t cry.”
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“Thank you,” Jillian said, her voice thick with
emotion. She glanced between them with a quiet smile, eyes glistening. “Meeting your both… has made me really happy.”
Cecilia squealed with delight and lunged into Jillian’s arms, wrapping her tiny arms tightly
around her neck.
“Can we stay together forever, Jillian sister?” she whispered against her shoulder. “Like a real family?”
Alpha George froze mid–motion. A lump of clay slipped from his hand and splatted onto the table.
He looked up, startled, his eyes locking with Jillian’s.
Both their faces turned red at once.
“Cecilia…” he said gently, “You can’t just say things like that. It might… pressure her. Jillian -she’s been through a lot, and-”
“It’s okay,” Jillian cut in softly, her hand gently smoothing Cecilia’s hair. She looked up at George, her gaze steady and kind. “I don’t feel
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Then, with a quiet resolve, she added, “I’m honored… to be part of your life.”
Cecilia beamed, her wolf spirit practically
glowing with joy.
George blinked, then nodded, his expression tender. The moment between them was quiet, but it was charged–gentle, protective… and full of something unspoken.
Jillian looked at the two wolves beside her-
one large, steady and warm, the other small, joyful and bright.
And for the first time in a long time, the heaviness pressing against her chest began to
lift.
Something new had taken root in her heart.
It wasn’t joy, not quite. Not yet.
But it was peace.
A peace that whispered of healing.
Of home.
