The pack house was alive with celebration.
Laughter, cheers, and the rhythmic beating of drums filled the air as pack members rejoiced in Mona's victory.
The scent of roasted meat and burning firewood mingled with the cool night breeze, a scent that signified triumph.
Mona stepped out of her car, her gaze sweeping across the gathered crowd.
Their joy was evident, but deep down, she knew this was just the beginning. Winning was one thing, keeping the seat was another battle entirely.
As she walked toward the entrance, the old physician, a man whose wisdom had guided many before her, approached with a bright smile.
His wrinkled face, though aged, carried a warmth that Mona had always found comforting and used to.
"Thanks be to the spirits that led you to victory," the old man said, his voice filled with genuine delight.
Mona's lips curled into a soft smile. "Thank you so much for always being there."
The physician let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.
