Josh had survived and was showing all indications that he would, eventually, thrive, despite the overwhelming horror of their situation, and how iffy even his survival had been there for a while. He's still shaky sometimes, yes, and absolutely mortified over the handful of times that he's caught himself snapping at some unfamiliar scent or unexpected sound or, worse, snarling at Rhys, to the point where it's safer for Rhys to spend nights at the caretaker's cottage out on the grounds and for Zach to stay completely away. And it was absolutely clear how essential the latter was on the occasions Josh caught the older wolf's scent on the air and it sent him stalking restlessly from room to room, hackles up, until Dwayne came back and he could bury his nose in his mate's neck and center himself again. It's getting better, he knows, but it's embarrassing and frustrating and he feels bad for Dwayne's, for their packmates, being relegated to the outskirts and the desolation beyond their little refuge because of him.

Today, unsurprisingly, is not a good day, not with the full moon so close, it's pull singing unfamiliarly in his blood, and he keeps close to Dwayne. Keeps his focus within the safety of these four walls, where his and Dwayne's scent mingle in every room, and Rhys's is familiar and welcome. He's nervous, but he's not letting himself be frightened, not after everything he's gone through to get here, how much Dwayne and Rhys and even Zach have gone through to help him. It'll be fine, he's got a pack and a mate and Dwayne's example to follow, and it's going to be a grand adventure, dammit, not the nightmare he knows Zach's first shift was.

None of which stops him from pausing to press his nose into Dwayne's neck with a low rumble as he curls his fingers into his mate's shirt. "You won't let me hurt anyone, right?" he asks, even though he knows it's a stupid question, because of course Dwayne would never let that happen.