Rhys knew he couldn't afford to waste another moment. The gnawing doubt had blossomed into a sickening certainty, and the escalating rogue attacks were a stark reminder of the cost of his blindness. He had to find Anya. Not just to prove her innocence, but because his instincts, now painfully clear, screamed that she was inextricably linked to the solution for Stonehaven's growing troubles.
His first move was immediate. He summoned Gareth. His Beta arrived, concern etched on his face. "Alpha?"
"I need every available scout, every tracker, to fan out," Rhys commanded, his voice tight with urgency. "Focus on the routes leading away from the Feast, specifically towards the old, unclaimed territories to the west and south. Look for any sign, any scent, any report of a lone female wolf. A Whisperwood wolf."
Gareth's eyes widened slightly. "Anya? Alpha, after the rejection, no wolf from Whisperwood would linger near our borders."
"She was rejected without cause," Rhys stated, the admission a bitter taste on his tongue. "I was wrong, Gareth. Deeply wrong. There was a past deception, and I fell prey to it." He saw the shock register on Gareth's face, quickly replaced by a flicker of understanding. "This is not merely about finding a runaway, Beta. Our pack is suffering. The very shadows of that past deception are now threatening us in the present. I believe she holds a key to unraveling it."
Gareth, ever loyal, simply nodded, his expression softening with a flicker of empathy. "It will be done, Alpha. Every skilled tracker will be deployed. But the wilderness is vast, and many moons have passed."
"I know," Rhys said, the weight of that truth pressing down on him. "But we will find her. Or at least, find answers."
The search began, a desperate, silent effort. Rhys joined the patrols himself, pushing his warriors to their limits. He tracked through dense undergrowth, scaled rocky outcrops, and followed faint, almost indiscernible trails. He was not just searching with his eyes and nose; his wolf, previously agitated, now felt a driving purpose, a desperate yearning to right a profound wrong. The ache of the severed bond, though still present, served as a compass, an agonizing reminder of the direction he needed to go.
Days turned into a grueling blur. They found traces of other rogues, signs of struggle, but no definitive sign of Anya. The trails were cold, washed away by rains or masked by migrating animals. The wilderness, usually an open book to him, seemed to mock his efforts, guarding its secrets fiercely. He visited the Whisperwood Pack, humbling himself before Alpha Thorne and Luna Maeve, admitting his error and pleading for any information about Anya's direction of flight. They gave him what they could, their faces etched with a pain that mirrored his own, but their hope for their daughter's return was thin.
As Rhys searched, the evidence he'd uncovered in the old records replayed in his mind. The inconsistencies, the vague scout reports of shifting scents, the eerie cunning that had gone unpunished. It all pointed to a mastermind, someone who had meticulously set up Mara's betrayal and then vanished. He needed Anya to truly understand. Her unique connection to emotions, her empathetic nature, now seemed like the very key he had dismissed.
His body ached, his mind was weary, but his resolve remained unbroken. He would not stop. He owed it to Anya, to his pack, and to the very essence of his Alpha responsibility. He had made a grave error, and now, consumed by guilt and a fierce determination to atone, he would journey to the ends of his territory, and beyond, until he found the truth, and hopefully, the Luna he had so carelessly cast aside. The wilderness stretched out before him, vast and indifferent, but Rhys pressed on, a singular purpose driving him through the endless trees.