Chapter 180. The Joy of Mentorship

Eryndor’s POV

Kevin led the three of us—Rydan, Sylin, and me—into the heart of his village. At first glance, I was taken aback. This didn’t look at all like the savage, meat-obsessed settlement I’d imagined a werewolf community to be. Instead, every plot was meticulously tilled, bursting with crops and fruit trees.

I scratched my head. Yes, I’d heard that werewolves sometimes favored vegetables, but only as a supplement. Real strength, real satisfaction, came from meat. Yet here they were, tending to rows of tomatoes, corn, golden wheat, and apple orchards—more reminiscent of Dolly’s farm than a pack of feral hunters. The only conspicuous absence was livestock. And even before I could ponder that further, the reason revealed itself.

We approached the largest building in the village: a broad, low‐slung house whose walls were entwined with climbing roses and bright wildflowers. At its wide wooden door stood the Alpha of this pack. She was deceptively young—he