Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

"Welcome, Clan Head." An old man with long, silver-white hair greeted Fiona with a bow, following the traditions of the werewolf clan. He was dressed in a flowing white robe, resembling a scholar from Greek mythology... a sight that immediately reminded Eleanor of characters she had seen in movies.

Fiona returned the bow and said, "Greetings, Elder Bedivere. I hope you are well."

Bedivere smiled warmly. "I sensed the ripple at the gate and came to see our guest. I was secretly hoping you had brought a young talent for this year's Ancestral Moon." His gaze shifted to Eleanor, studying her intently, as if evaluating her worth.

Fiona turned to Eleanor and introduced him. "Eleanor, this is Elder Bedivere. He is the steward of the ancestral land. I may be the Clan Head, but here, he is the true authority."

Eleanor, still caught off guard by the old man's uncanny resemblance to an aged knight from Arthurian legends, snapped out of her daze. She quickly placed her palm over her heart and bowed. "Greetings, Elder Bedivere."

Bedivere chuckled. "Welcome to Rayndell, Eleanor. Fiona brought you here on the eve of the Ancestral Moon; that alone speaks volumes about your potential. May our ancestors bless you."

He turned back to Fiona. "Follow me. Some of the elders have come out of seclusion. They are in the courtyard."

Eleanor followed Fiona and Bedivere through the winding paths of the ancestral land until they reached a vast courtyard, surrounded by wooden houses. Seated around a round table were three old women and two old men, sipping tea. As the trio approached, the elders turned their attention toward them, their gazes unreadable.

Fiona bowed deeply. "Greetings, Elders. May the gods bless you with wisdom, strength, and clarity." Eleanor followed her example.