Into the Alpha’s Keep Chapter 75: 75

POV Savannah Bowen

Mihaela had a gift, a unique way of bringing order to the chaos of the small school nestled within the Dăneşti pack’s territory. Her presence was a quiet force, her methods as deliberate as they were creative, transforming the modest room into a haven of learning that buzzed with the energy of the pups.

They adored her—truly, deeply—their bright eyes following her every move, hanging on her words as if she were unraveling the mysteries of the world just for them.

It was clear that the lessons she crafted weren’t mere obligations; they were the highlight of their days, moments of joy and discovery woven into the fabric of their young lives.

The air carried the faint scent of chalk dust and pine from the wooden desks, mingling with the earthy warmth of the pups themselves, a reminder of the wildness they were born into.

Unlike human schools with their long vacations, the Dăneşti pups had no such reprieve. They enjoyed brief respites—time off during the day and weekends to run free—but the rhythm of learning never truly paused.

There was always something new to absorb, a constant stream of knowledge flowing from Mihaela’s steady hands. She taught them the essentials—reading and writing, the scratch of quills on parchment filling the room with a soft, rhythmic cadence—but it went far beyond that.

She steeped them in wolf culture, recounting tales of their ancestors under moonlit skies, and introduced them to the herbs that sustained their lives, their sharp, green scents lingering on fingertips as they crushed leaves between them. Then there were the practical lessons: hunting, where they learned to track the faint rustle of prey through the underbrush, and honing their instincts, sharpening the primal edge that defined them as wolves.

I stood at the edge of the room, my hands busy arranging the materials the pups had used earlier that day. Brushes still damp with paint, jars of water tinged with swirling colors, and scraps of paper littered the table before me.

I gathered them with care, setting them aside as I turned my attention to the pictures they’d created, now propped against the wall to dry.

The sight tugged a smile onto my lips, unbidden but warm. Some of the paintings were wild bursts of abstract color—slashes of red and blue dancing across the page—while others captured delicate flowers, petals rendered in soft yellows and pinks with a child’s earnest precision.

The rest had tried their hands at depicting the transformed wolves they’d glimpsed in the pack, their brushstrokes shaky but bold, outlining hulking figures with glowing eyes and bristling fur.

Each piece was a window into their minds, a blend of imagination and reverence, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for them.

A small voice piped up, breaking through the quiet hum of the room. "We’re going to have the challenge now in winter?" It was a little girl, her dark hair tied back with a ribbon, her wide eyes fixed on Mihaela with eager curiosity. She clutched a paintbrush in her hand, a smudge of green still streaking her cheek from her earlier work.

"There’s too much snow covering the ground, and it’s only going to increase. We're also prohibited from crossing the borders."

"Because of the bad men?" asked the little girl, staring at the beta with her expressive brown eyes.

Mihaela smiled at her and leaned down, aligning her face to her height.

"Yes, my dear. We can't risk any of you. And besides, it's so cold out there; it's better we stay inside where it's warm." She glanced at the fireplace crackling in the background, warming the room.

A little boy with red hair and a freckled face snorted, shaking his head.

"If the supreme alphas were alive, they'd already be dead."

I furrowed my brow, confused.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Mihaela rolled her eyes.

"Just a legend the pups love to tell around here."

I knelt down in front of the seven pups.

"I'd like to hear about the legend," I murmured, smiling. "Who can tell me?"

The red-haired boy raised his finger.

"The supreme alphas are powerful and immortal." He widened his eyes, emphasizing his words.

"And they'll get you if you keep talking about them," teased the little brown-eyed girl.

"They say three supreme alphas will rise, and the world will end in fire," another pup spoke, opening his mouth in shock. "And a new species of wolf will be formed."

"That's why everyone is scared of fire here, even Mr. Fenrir," shot the red-haired boy. "And it's true, they'll come."

I pressed my lips together and nodded, agreeing with them but not believing a word. They were just legends and assumptions.

I had heard of the existence of supreme alphas, who lived longer than usual. But all I knew were empty words. They were a legend that spread through the years, from pack to pack, but there was no evidence that they had ever truly existed.

"Wow, they sound powerful," I murmured, pretending to be impressed by their story.

"And they are," agreed the boy. "If they came, we wouldn't need to be afraid of the bad men in the forest; they'd take care of them."

"I'd rather they don't come," the little girl shot. "I'm scared. We'll all die."

"Don't be silly, they're good."

"We'll die burned!"

They started arguing. The little boy defending the supreme alphas, while the girl preferred that they remain just legends. I laughed as I watched Mihaela try to calm them down and teach them that everyone had an opinion, and they should all be respected, even if one differed from the other.

"There’s another legend," interrupted a little girl with dark curly hair.

"About the supreme alphas?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"About wolves that talk to us," she whispered, as if telling me a secret. "Mommy told me that a friend of Grandma's told her she talked to her wolf."

"That's nonsense! Puppy story," cut off the redhead.

The girl ignored him, keeping her dark eyes on me.

"It’s true. She said she was going to drown, she was tired of swimming and couldn’t find the shore, so the wolf took control to save their lives and fought with her. They talked and everything. But mommy said it was just once."

"That’s a lie," mocked another boy. "I’ve never heard of that."

I doubted even more that it was true. My wolf acted so primitively that I couldn't even consider the possibility of hearing her speak to me. But I loved hearing the pups' stories, discovering the legends passed down from generation to generation, from pack to pack, whispered to the wind.

"And if the elders die, we’ll die too," declared a little wolf with blue eyes.

"Why?"

He shrugged, shaking his skinny little body.

"I don’t know, mommy told me. She said if they die, we’ll catch fire, that’s why the leaders don’t fight."

A little girl sighed.

"And there’s the story that the supreme alphas need to find their destined mates. Only then will they live in peace." She winked, sounding romantic.

There were so many assumptions, so many legends, that it was hard to tell if they were just legends or if there was some truth behind the words.

Mihaela clapped her hands.

"Alright, little wolves, let’s get back to our activities." She looked at me. "I’m sure Savannah is fascinated by every story that’s been told."

I nodded, hiding the shadow of a smile.

"Of course," I agreed. "I’d like to know a legend too, to share with you all."

"Now Savannah will go to the kitchen to prepare the snacks. What do you think?"

The pups erupted into a chorus of excited yells, their small voices ringing through the room as they bounced and darted around like a pack of wild cubs set loose.

Their energy was infectious, a whirlwind of laughter and motion that filled the modest schoolhouse with life. Mihaela caught my eye across the chaos, her expression a silent plea—half-exasperated, half-amused—as she tilted her head toward the task at hand.

I blinked, a smile tugging at my lips, and gave a small nod in return, a subtle dip of my chin to let her know I’d take it on.

Spending time with her at the school was a joy I hadn’t expected to find here—helping with the daily tasks, tending to the pups, watching them grow under her gentle guidance. They were remarkable little souls—sweet and polite, with a spark of curiosity that lit up their faces.

When I’d first arrived, they’d been timid around me, their shyness a wall of silence broken only by hesitant nods and wide, wary eyes. They’d kept their distance, unsure of the stranger in their midst, but over time, I’d earned their trust, piece by piece.

Now, they greeted me with bright smiles and eager questions, their voices weaving around me like a melody. It was a slow victory, one that warmed me from the inside out, and I cherished every moment of it.

The school always had snacks ready, prepared by other hands in the pack—a simple offering to keep the pups fueled between lessons.

Nothing elaborate, just the kind of humble fare that suited this place: bowls of fresh fruits, crusty bread still warm from the oven, homemade cookies with edges crisped to a golden brown, or slabs of cake dusted with sugar.

But unlike the others who left them as they were, I couldn’t resist adding my own touch.

I’d take a knife to the fruits, carving apples into stars, slicing pears into delicate crescents, and whittling strawberries into tiny hearts. The bread, too, I’d shape—cutting the slices into triangles or rounds, sometimes pressing patterns into the dough with the edge of a spoon.

It was a small thing, but the pups’ delighted gasps made it worth the effort.

I slipped into the attached room, a cozy little kitchen that smelled faintly of yeast and woodsmoke. The school itself was a humble structure, its walls a sturdy blend of weathered wood and smooth stone, built to withstand the seasons.

The classrooms, with their rows of chairs and desks, had been lovingly carved by the males of the pack, each piece bearing the subtle marks of their craftsmanship—rough-hewn edges smoothed by hand, surfaces polished by use.

The materials—the wood, the stone, even the textbooks stacked neatly on shelves—had been sourced from the city at Fenrir’s direction, hauled back to this remote corner of the forest to nurture the pups’ minds.

As I began arranging the snacks, a soft voice broke the stillness behind me.

"I saw Marilyn running from Fenrir earlier," one of the omegas whispered, her tone hushed.