The trees grew more familiar with each step, their rough, scarred bark standing like silent witnesses to childhood games and secret hideouts. A crisp pine scent mingled with the earthy perfume of fallen leaves, and beneath it all—faint but unmistakable—was the scent of home. Their pack. Safety.
Opal felt her shoulders relax as she walked alongside her brothers, the tension of their journey slowly easing. She scanned the landscape, tracing the twist of the stream, the gentle roll of wildflower-dotted hills, and the proud silhouette of the ancient oak that marked the ridge. Just a mile more. One mile, and they'd cross into their pack's territory.
She could see the same relief in her brothers. Ridge's steps grew lighter, his chin higher. Forrest hummed a soft tune—one their mom had sung countless times when they were little. Brooks was smiling to himself, lost in thought, his normally sharp eyes soft. Even Ash, who rarely let his guard down, seemed different. His shoulders weren't so stiff, his expression a touch gentler.
Ridge suddenly stopped and lifted his head, his nostrils flaring. "Wait. Do you smell that?"
The others paused, looking at him with raised brows. "What?" Opal asked, her voice cautious.
A slow, crooked smile spread across Ridge's face. "Mom's cooking. I swear I smell it."
Opal blinked in disbelief. "What?"
He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. "Chicken pot pie. The kind she makes from scratch."
Her stomach growled at the memory. "With the buttery crust?" she said, unable to stop herself.
"And the thick gravy," Ridge added, grinning now.
Forrest's eyes went wide. "You mean the one with carrots and potatoes? No way."
Ridge nodded sagely. "The very one."
"Ugh, I'm starving," Forrest groaned, clutching his stomach. "We could be home in five minutes if we pick up the pace."
Brooks tilted his head. "Three minutes if we run."
Forrest's face lit up. "I'll make it in two."
Opal laughed, the sound bright and unexpected. "You? No way. I'll beat all of you. I'm smaller. Faster."
Brooks snorted. "Smaller is right. You're half our size. I doubt you can keep up."
Opal planted her hands on her hips. "Exactly why I'll win. Less weight to carry."
Ridge's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "What if she's right?"
Forrest snorted. "She's not."
Ridge's eyes glinted mischievously. "What if she's the fastest?"
Brooks chuckled. "Fastest, my tail. And even if she is, it doesn't matter. She'll be the fluffiest wolf out of all of us."
Opal frowned. "Fluffiest? What does that mean?"
"You know," Brooks teased. "All tiny and fluffy. Like a little puffball."
Forrest joined in with a smirk. "Yeah, like one of those toy wolves. All bark, no bite."
Opal's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."
Forrest laughed. "I can see it now. Little fluffy Opal. Everyone would call you Puff."
Opal narrowed her eyes at him. "I am not a puff."
Ash finally spoke, his tone dry but teasing. "You're right. It's too undignified. How about Cotton Ball?"
"Cotton Ball?" Opal threw up her hands. "You guys are unbelievable. I won't be the smallest."
Ridge chuckled. "What if you're the biggest, though? Just this giant, hulking wolf towering over all of us."
Brooks doubled over, laughing. "Opal? The biggest wolf? No way."
Forrest snorted. "Maybe she's so big, we'll have to call her Alpha."
Opal raised an eyebrow. "I like the sound of that. Alpha Opal. I'd make a great alpha."
"Bossing us around all day?" Brooks asked, rolling his eyes. "Please."
"Hey," Opal retorted. "You already listen to me half the time."
"Sure, sure," Ridge said with a smirk. "Whatever you say, Alpha."
Opal smirked back. "That's the spirit."
Forrest groaned dramatically. "No. This can't happen. She's already bossy enough. Don't give her more ammunition."
Opal laughed, crossing her arms. "Better watch your attitude, Forrest. Or you'll be fetching my dinner."
Forrest scooted away. "I'd rather not."
They fell into an easy banter as they walked. The tension from before seemed to dissolve in their teasing, their laughter bouncing through the woods. The trees grew denser, their trunks thicker, and the scent of home more pronounced. Even as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of gold and pink, the lightheartedness in their group remained.
They paused at a clearing, settling on the soft grass near a trickling stream. Ridge leaned back against a log, his arms crossed behind his head. The others followed suit, some sitting, some lying down to gaze at the darkening sky.
Forrest broke the quiet. "What do you think our wolves will look like?" he asked, voice light with curiosity.
"Do you think we'll all look the same?" Brooks added. "I mean, we're quintuplets, but we're all different as humans. Maybe our wolves will be different, too. I can't imagine us looking the same. It would get too confusing."
Forrest's eyes gleamed. "I want to be huge. Like a giant bear-wolf."
Brooks scoffed. "You? You're the shortest. You'll probably be a scrappy little mutt."
Forrest chucked a handful of grass at him. "Shut up. I'm still growing."
Ridge smirked. "Maybe you'll be one of those ankle-biters."
Forrest pointed a finger at him. "Take that back."
The laughter continued until the stars began to peek through the dusky sky. As it faded, the silence wasn't heavy or tense. It was warm, filled with unspoken hope and anticipation. They were almost home, and whatever came next, they'd face it together.