The forest had never felt so alive with danger as it did that evening. Raindrops slid like cold fingers down my neck, while thunder growled overhead, echoing my own unsteady heartbeat. The river before me swelled angrily, churning with debris and flashing white where it crashed against rocks. I shouldn’t have been there, a woman alone at dusk in the wildest part of Blackwater Valley.

 But I’d always found more kindness in these woods than in the village I reluctantly called home. I pulled my worn cloak tighter, the threadbear fabric offering little protection against the autumn chill. My grandmother’s silver pendant pressed against my skin beneath my clothes.

 Its familiar weight reassuring the forest gives to those who listen, she’d told me before she died, leaving me with nothing but this necklace and a wisdom the villagers called witchcraft. Perhaps that’s why they kept their distance, why their whispers followed me like shadows. Plant healer. They called me when they needed me. Strange girl. When they thought I couldn’t hear.

 The storm had unearthed herbs normally hidden beneath the forest floor, and I’d spent hours gathering them, my fingers muddy and raw. My basket was nearly full when I heard it. A sound that didn’t belong among the symphony of rain and rushing water. A whimper, barely audible above the storm, followed by a splash.

 I set my basket down beneath the shelter of a massive oak and moved toward the riverbank, my boots sinking into mud with each step. What I saw made my breath catch downstream. Something large and dark struggled against the current, occasionally disappearing beneath the churning surface, only to emerge again, weaker each time. Without thinking, I waited in.

 The frigid water shocked my system, stealing my breath as it climbed past my knees, my thighs, my waist. The current pushed against me like invisible hands trying to shove me back to shore. But I pressed forward, eyes locked on the struggling form. It was a wolf, the largest I’d ever seen. Its massive body fought weakly against the river’s pole, one of its legs hanging at an unnatural angle.

 Our eyes met across the water, and something passed between us. recognition perhaps or simply the silent understanding that comes between two beings facing death together. I’m coming, I whispered, though I knew it couldn’t understand. Hold on. The water reached my chest, stealing my warmth and making every movement a battle.

 I’d always been a strong swimmer, another oddity the village girls mocked. But the river was furious tonight. Twice I went under, swallowing bitter water before fighting my way back to the surface. My lungs burned. My limbs grew heavy, but somehow I reached him. Up close, the wolf was even more magnificent and more terrifying. Despite its injury and exhaustion, it radiated power.

 Its fur was midnight black, except for a strange silver marking across its chest, like a crescent moon. When my fingers touched its soden coat, a jolt ran through me, like touching lightning captured in flesh. I won’t hurt you, I promised. Though those amber eyes regarded me with an intelligence that seemed almost human. Somehow, though I still don’t know how, I managed to get my arms around the massive creature.

 It was like embracing living stone. All dense muscle and primal strength. Blood clouded the water around us, but the wolf didn’t snap or struggle against me. Instead, it went oddly still, as if surrendering to my care. or perhaps simply to death. The journey back to shore was a blur of exhaustion and desperation. The current fought us.

 The wolf’s weight pulled me under repeatedly, and more than once, I thought we would both be claimed by the river. My grandmother’s pendant burned against my skin, unusually warm despite the icy water. When my feet finally found purchase on the riverbed, I nearly wept with relief. We collapsed together on the shore, both shivering violently.

 The rain had softened to a gentle patter, and in the strange stillness that followed the storm, I examined my unlikely companion. The wolf’s breathing was labored, its injured leg clearly broken. Blood matted its fur in several places, and a deep gash ran along its side, exposing muscle and senue beneath. “Who did this to you?” I whispered, gently running my fingers through its wet fur.

The wolf’s eyes never left my face, watching me with an unnerving intensity that should have frightened me, but somehow didn’t. I knew I couldn’t leave it here. The wolf would die from its injuries or be found by hunters come morning. Either fate seemed unacceptable for a creature of such magnificence.

My cabin stood isolated at the edge of the forest, a 15-minute walk under normal circumstances. With an injured wolf nearly the size of a small horse, it would take much longer. Yet there was no alternative. I tore strips from my already ruined dress to bind the worst of the wounds, whispering soothing nonsense as I worked.

 To my amazement, the wolf remained still, only occasionally shuddering when my fingers probed a particularly painful area. I’m going to help you, I told it, meeting those amber eyes directly. But you’ll have to trust me, as if understanding. The wolf exhaled slowly, its massive head dropping slightly in what almost looked like a nod.

I fashioned a crude stretcher from fallen branches and my cloak, knowing it wouldn’t bear the wolf’s weight entirely, but might help distribute it. Getting the creature onto this contraption was an ordeal that left us both trembling with exhaustion. But somehow we managed it. The journey home was arduous.

 Every few steps, I had to stop and rest. My back screaming in protest and my arms shaking from exertion. The wolf made no sound beyond its labored breathing. those intelligent eyes watching me whenever I glanced back. Twice I stumbled and nearly dropped my burden, and twice I felt something nudge against my mind, a presence both alien and strangely familiar, like a voice without sound urging me forward.

 By the time my cabin came into view, the sky had cleared, revealing a full moon that bathed everything in silver light. The wolf stirred, its gaze fixed on the celestial body with an almost worshipful intensity. I remembered the village elders warnings about wolves and full moons, about beasts that walked as men and the dangers of the forest at night.

For the first time since finding the wolf, a sliver of unease crept along my spine. Almost there, I murmured as much to myself as to my silent companion. My cabin was humble but meticulously kept. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling beams, filling the air with their soothing scents.

 Shelves lined the walls, crowded with jars of salves and tinctures. The results of knowledge passed down through generations of women in my family. A fire burned low in the hearth, my single luxury against the autumn nights. With the last of my strength, I maneuvered the wolf inside and onto the thick rug before the fireplace. It was only when I had collapsed beside the creature, my muscles quivering from exhaustion, that the true strangeness of the situation struck me. I had brought a wild predator into my home.

 A creature that could tear out my throat with a single bite. “What am I doing?” I whispered, brushing a strand of pale blonde hair from my face. The wolf’s eyes tracked the movement, gleaming like molten gold in the firelight. I should have been terrified. Instead, I felt an inexplicable connection to this wounded creature, as if our fates had somehow become entangled in that river.

 My grandmother’s pendant seemed to pulse against my skin, almost in time with the wolf’s labored breathing. “You need care, and I can give it,” I said simply, rising on shaking legs to gather my supplies. “Try not to eat me while I work,” the wolf made a sound then, not quite a growl, almost like a huff of amusement, and settled its massive head onto its paws.

 eyes never leaving me as I moved about the cabin, I worked through the night, cleaning wounds, setting the broken leg as best I could, applying picuses of yrow and comfrey to stop bleeding and fight infection. The wolf remained unnaturally still throughout my ministrations, only occasionally tensing when I touched particularly painful areas.

 Once when I had to dig out a fragment of what appeared to be an arrow head from its shoulder, the beast growled low in its throat, eyes flashing with warning. “I know it hurts,” I said soothingly, holding its gaze without flinching. “But infection will kill you more surely than pain.” Something shifted in those amber depths. Respect perhaps, or simple acknowledgement. The growling stopped, and the wolf allowed me to continue my work.

 Dawn was breaking when I finally finished. My hands stained with blood and herbs, my back aching from hours bent over my patient. I’d done all I could. The rest would depend on the wolf’s own strength and whatever fate had decreed for it. I washed my hands in a basin of warm water, watching the wolf from the corner of my eye.

 “You should live,” I told it, settling onto the floor nearby, too exhausted to make it to my bed. “But you’ll need time to heal.” The wolf regarded me silently, its massive body rising and falling with each breath. In the growing light of dawn, I could see details I’d missed before.

 Scars beneath its fur speaking of old battles, the unusual breadth of its shoulders, the almost regal set of its head, despite its injuries. This was no ordinary wolf. Even in my limited experience with the forest’s creatures, I knew that much. A memory surfaced, something my grandmother had told me about the lands beyond the mountains, about wolves that were more than wolves and kings who wore fur beneath the full moon. Fairy tales, the villagers called such stories.

 My exhausted mind was clearly searching for magic where there was only a wounded animal. Yet, asleep claimed me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had pulled something far more dangerous than a wolf from that river, and that nothing in my life would ever be the same again.

 As I drifted into dreams, the last thing I saw was the wolf’s amber eyes. Watching, considering, waiting, I woke to the sensation of being watched. Sunlight streamed through my small window, illuminating dust moes that danced in the golden beams. For a moment, I lay still, disoriented, my body aching in places I didn’t know could ache.

 Then the events of the previous night crashed over me, and I bolted upright. The wolf was still there, lying exactly where I’d left it. Those unnerving amber eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity. Its massive chest rose and fell steadily, the rhythm stronger than it had been during the night. Good. It was healing. You’re still alive, I said, my voice rough from sleep. That’s something.

 Rising gingerly, I stretched my sore muscles and moved to check the beast’s wounds. The wolf watched me approach, no fear in its gaze, only a weary assessment that made me feel like I was the one being examined. When I knelt beside it, the animals nostrils flared slightly, as if cataloging my scent.

 “I need to change your bandages,” I explained, not knowing why I spoke to it as if it could understand. “It might hurt.” As I worked, I became increasingly certain that this was no ordinary wolf. Its wounds, which should have taken weeks to show improvement, already looked days old. The broken leg, which I’d splinted as best I could, didn’t seem to cause it as much distress as it should.

 Most telling of all was its behavior. The calculated stillness, the watchful intelligence, the way it seemed to be measuring my every move. “What are you?” I whispered, my fingers buried in its thick fur. The wolf merely blinked slowly, offering no answers. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

 I rose and moved to my small kitchen area, aware of the wolf’s gaze following my every step. I cut bread from yesterday’s loaf, spread it with honey, and sliced an apple. As an afterthought, I cut several strips of dried venison from the stores I kept for winter.

 When I returned to the wolf’s side, I offered a strip of meat. hungry. The wolf regarded the offering for a long moment, then delicately took it from my fingers, its teeth never grazing my skin. The careful precision with which it accepted the food, sent another shiver of unease down my spine. No wild animal would show such restraint.

 We shared this strange breakfast in silence, the wolf accepting each piece of meat I offered while I nibbled my bread and apple. Sunlight shifted across the floor as morning deepened, and with it came the realization that I would need to venture into the village for supplies. My stores of healing herbs were depleted after treating the wolf’s wounds, and I had deliveries to make, tinctures and remedies for various villagers, who, despite their mistrust, relied on my grandmother’s recipes for their ailments. I have to leave for a few hours, I told the wolf, gathering my basket and cloak. You should be safe

here. But I hesitated, feeling foolish. Try not to destroy anything while I’m gone. The wolf made that huffing sound again, almost like laughter, and settled its head on its paws in what seemed like resignation. I shook my head at my own fancy and stepped outside, latching the door behind me. The village of Blackwater lay nestled in the valley below my cabin.

 A collection of stone and timber houses clustered around a central square. Smoke rose from chimneys and the familiar sounds of daily life. Chopping wood, children’s laughter, the blacksmith’s hammer, reached me even before I entered its boundaries. As always, conversation stuttered to awkward silence when I appeared. Women drew their children closer.

 Men nodded stiffly or pretended not to see me at all. I kept my head high, my expression neutral, as I made my way to the apothecary. where I traded my remedies for coins and supplies. Old Matias, the apothecary owner, was one of the few who treated me with something approaching respect.

 “He examined my tinctures with a practiced eye, nodding approvingly. Your yrow bomb saved Widow Cooper’s youngest from fever last week,” he said, counting coins into my palm. Though she’d never admit it was your making. I smiled tightly. As long as the child is well, there’s talk, he said, lowering his voice as he wrapped dried herbs for me.

 Of strangers in the valley, men from beyond the mountains asking questions. My heart stuttered. What kind of questions about the forest? About unusual happenings? His eyes, roomy with age but still sharp, studied my face. They came in yesterday during the storm. rough-l lookinging swords, armed to the teeth, said they were tracking something.

 The wolf’s wounds flashed in my mind. The arrowhead I’d dug from its flesh. Did they say what they were tracking? Matias shook his head. But they paid in silver coins marked with a crescent moon. I’ve never seen their like before. My grandmother’s pendant seemed to grow warm against my skin. A crescent moon like the marking on the wolf’s chest.

Coincidence? Surely it had to be. Be careful, girl, Matias said, handing me my wrapped purchases. These aren’t ordinary hunters. There’s something cold about their eyes. Something hungry. I thanked him and hurried through the rest of my errands, suddenly eager to return to my cabin, to check on the wolf, I told myself, though the truth felt more complicated.

 As I passed the village tavern, loud voices spilled out along with the smell of ale and woodsmoke. I quickened my pace, but not before catching fragments of conversation. Biggest wolf tracks ever seen. Offering gold for information said, “It’s a king they’re hunting, not a beast.” A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the autumn chill.

 I clutched my basket tighter and kept my head down, wishing for the safety of the forest path. I was nearly past the tavern when the door swung open, and a group of men emerged. Strangers dressed in dark leathers with weapons strapped to their bodies. Their leader, a tall man with a jagged scar running from temple to jaw, scanned the village square with predatory focus.

 When his gaze landed on me, something cold and calculating entered his expression. “You there, girl?” he called, his accent thick and unfamiliar. “A word?” Every instinct screamed at me to run, but that would only raise suspicion. I stopped, keeping my expression carefully blank as he approached. Up close, I could see his eyes were an unusual shade of gray, almost silver, and utterly devoid of warmth.

 “You live alone in the forest?” “Yes,” he asked, circling me slowly. “The villagers say you know the woods better than any.” I clutched my pendant through my cloak, drawing strength from its familiar shape. “I gather herbs,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. Nothing more. And did you gather herbs during yesterday’s storm? His voice was silky, dangerous.

 Did you see anything unusual in the forest? By the river, perhaps? My mouth went dry. How could he know? The storm was too fierce for gathering. I lied. I stayed indoors. The man studied me, nostrils flaring slightly, as if sensing the air. Is that so? He leaned closer, and I fought the urge to step back. You smell of wolf, little healer. Terror froze my blood. My mind raced for explanations, excuses.

 I treated a hunting hound this morning, I said. The lie coming quickly. It was injured during the storm. A hound? His smile didn’t reach his eyes. May I see this hound? It’s gone. Its master took it home. I met his gaze steadily, though my heart hammered against my ribs. Now, if you’ll excuse me.

 I have deliveries to make. I moved to step around him, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist with bruising force. “If you’re lying to me, girl,” he whispered, his face inches from mine. “If you’re helping him, there will be nowhere in these mountains you can hide. Release her, Dravk,” a new voice commanded. “Now.” I turned to see another stranger approaching, younger than the first, with dark hair pulled back from a face that might have been handsome if not for its current thunderous expression. Unlike his companion, this man carried

himself with quiet authority rather than menace. The girl knows something, the first man, DVC, insisted, though he loosened his grip. And terrorizing the locals will surely make them eager to help us, the newcomer said dryly. He turned to me, his expression softening slightly. “Forgive my companions manners.

 We’re searching for something valuable that was lost in these woods during the storm. I can’t help you, I said, rubbing my wrist where bruises were already forming. I know nothing of value in these woods except the herbs I gather. The dark-haired man studied me for a long moment, something like recognition flickering across his features.

 His gaze dropped briefly to where my hand still clutched my pendant through my cloak. That necklace, he said quietly. May I see it? Reluctantly, I withdrew my hand, revealing the silver pendant, a crescent moon embracing a small wolf crafted with delicate precision.

 My grandmother had said it was an heirloom, passed through our family for generations. The man’s expression changed subtly, a mixture of surprise and something I couldn’t name, crossing his features before he schooled them back to neutrality. Interesting, he murmured. Very interesting. It was my grandmother’s,” I said defensively. “Of course.” He stepped back, inclining his head slightly. “Thank you for your time.

Come, Dravk.” The girl clearly knows nothing. Dravk looked like he wanted to argue, but after a tense moment, he followed his companion back toward the tavern, casting one last suspicious glance over his shoulder. I didn’t wait to see if they would change their minds.

 With my heart in my throat, I hurried toward the forest path, fighting the urge to run until I was safely beneath the cover of trees. Only then did I break into a sprint, my basket bouncing against my hip as I raced toward my cabin. The wolf was waiting for me. The moment I burst through the door, it raised its massive head, a low growl building in its chest until it registered my identity.

 The sound cut off abruptly, replaced by a keen whine as it scented the air around me. They’re looking for you, I said, dropping my basket and sinking to my knees beside it. Men from beyond the mountains with silver coins bearing a crescent moon. I touched my pendant unconsciously like this.

 The wolf’s eyes fixed on the silver charm, something like recognition flaring in those amber depths. It struggled to rise despite its injuries, a low wine escaping its throat. No, don’t, I urged, placing a gentle hand on its shoulder. You’ll reopen your wounds. The wolf subsided reluctantly, but its agitation was palpable.

 It pawed at the ground, then at my pendant, clearly trying to communicate something I don’t understand, I said, frustration edging my voice. Who are you? What do they want with you? The wolf stared at me with those two intelligent eyes.

 And for a moment, just a moment, I could have sworn I saw something human in their depths. A soul looking out from behind an animal’s gaze. Then it blinked, and the impression was gone. I sighed, settling beside it on the rug. Well, whoever you are, whatever you are, they know someone helped you. That man, Dravk, he said I smelled of wolf, I shuddered, remembering his cold eyes. They’ll come here. It’s only a matter of time.

 The wolf growled low in its throat, the sound reverberating through the small cabin, its eyes fixed on the door as if expecting our hunters to appear at any moment. “We can’t stay here,” I realized aloud. “We need to leave to find somewhere safe until you’re healed enough to what? Return to wherever it came from? To whoever it truly was?” The wolf turned its gaze back to me.

 And in those amber depths, I saw agreement and something more. trust. This creature, whatever it might be, was placing its life in my hands. I thought of the village below, of the cold eyes of the hunters, of the life I’d carved out here in my grandmother’s cabin. I thought of her stories about the lands beyond the mountains, about wolves that were more than wolves and the crescent moon that marked them.

 “We’ll leave tonight,” I decided, stroking the wolf’s massive head. When the moon rises, there’s a place my grandmother showed me deep in the forest, a cave behind a waterfall where she said the old magic still lingers. No one else knows of it. The wolf huffed softly, leaning into my touch, and I felt that strange nudge against my mind again.

 Gratitude perhaps, or simple acknowledgement of our shared fate. “For better or worse,” I whispered. “We’re in this together now.” Twilight cloaked the forest in violet shadows as we slipped away from my cabin. The wolf moved better than I had expected. Its limp pronounced but not debilitating. Whatever extraordinary vitality allowed it to heal so quickly seemed to be working in our favor. Still, our progress was slow.

 Each step measured and careful. I’d packed only essentials. herbs and bandages for the wolf’s wounds, dried food that would last us several days, a blanket, flint and steel, and my grandmother’s journal. The leatherbound book contained not only her healing recipes, but also the old stories, the ones the villagers dismissed as superstition. Something told me those tales might hold answers I would soon need.

 We moved deeper into the forest, away from the paths I normally traveled. Moonlight filtered through the canopy and silver shafts, illuminating our way in ethereal patterns. The wolf stayed close to my side, occasionally pressing against my leg as if to reassure me, or perhaps itself, that we remained together.

 We need to cross the north ridge, I whispered, though there was no one to hear us. The waterfall lies in the valley beyond. The wolf’s ears pricricked forward, its head turning as it scanned the darkness ahead. Its senses were clearly sharper than mine. alerting to sounds and scents I couldn’t detect.

 Several times, it nudged me in a different direction than I had intended to go, and each time I followed, trusting its instincts. An hour into our journey, the wolf suddenly froze, hackles rising along its spine. A low growl rumbled in its chest, so quiet I felt it more than heard it. I stilled beside it, straining my senses to detect whatever had alarmed my companion. At first there was nothing, just the usual symphony of night forest sounds, the rustle of leaves, the occasional hoot of an owl. Then I caught it.

Voices, distant but approaching, and the crack of branches beneath heavy boots. Hunters, I breathed. The wolf’s muscles bunched beneath its fur as if preparing to run or fight. I placed a restraining hand on its shoulder. “No,” I whispered. You’re still too weak. We need to hide. After a moment’s hesitation, the wolf relaxed slightly, though the growl continued to vibrate through its massive frame. I scanned our surroundings frantically, looking for anywhere we might conceal ourselves. The voices were

drawing closer. I could make out Dravk’s harsh tones among them. They’re following our trail, I realized with a jolt of fear. How is that possible? We’ve been so careful. The wolf’s amber eyes found mine in the darkness. And again, I had that uncanny sense of a human intelligence watching me. It nudged me toward a nearby ravine, a steep decline thick with underbrush.

 I hesitated only a moment before understanding. The flowing water at the bottom would mask our scent trail. We half slid down the embankment, the wolf moving with surprising agility despite its injuries. At the bottom, a shallow stream bubbled over smooth stones. Without hesitation, I stepped into the frigid water, gesturing for the wolf to follow.

 It obeyed instantly, and together we waited downstream, leaving no footprints for our pursuers to find. “They’re not ordinary hunters,” I whispered as we moved. “The way that man, Dravk, looked at me, it was like he could smell you on me.” And the other one, the way he recognized my pendant, I touched the silver crescent at my throat.

 What are they? What are you? The wolf merely continued forward, giving no answer I could understand. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it knew exactly what I was asking and was choosing not to or could not reply. We followed the stream for nearly a mile before finally leaving the water at a rocky outcrop that would leave no visible tracks. My feet were numb with cold, but fear kept me moving.

 The wolf stayed close, occasionally pressing its warm body against mine, as if sensing my discomfort. The journey to the hidden waterfall took longer than I remembered from my childhood excursions with my grandmother. The terrain grew increasingly rugged, the forest denser and wilder. Strange night blooming flowers glowed with faint bioluminescence along our path, casting eerie blue green light across the forest floor.

 My grandmother had called them moonshadow blooms and said they only grew in places where the veil between worlds was thin. “We’re getting close,” I murmured, more to myself than to the wolf. These flowers only grow near the falls. The wolf’s ears pricricked forward with renewed interest, its pace quickening despite the obvious pain each step caused it.

 I wondered if it somehow recognized where we were heading, if it had been to this place before. Soon the distant thunder of falling water reached my ears. The wolf heard it too, its head lifting sharply. We crested a small rise and there it was, a silver ribbon of water cascading down a sheer rock face, gleaming in the moonlight like liquid stars.

 The pool at its base reflected the night sky perfectly, creating the illusion of an endless cosmos captured in still water. The Starfall, I whispered, using my grandmother’s name for the place. We used to come here when I was small. She said it was sacred. The wolf moved forward, drawn to the waterfall as if by some invisible force. It reached the edge of the pool and lowered its muzzle to drink, the motion cautious, almost reverent.

When it raised its head again, water dripping from its jaws caught the moonlight, sparkling like diamonds. The cave is behind the falls, I said, moving to the rocky path that skirted the pool’s edge. It’s hidden from view unless you know exactly where to look.

 The narrow ledge behind the waterfall was treacherous, slick with perpetual mist. I went first, pressing my back against the stone wall and edging sideways until I reached the dark opening barely visible through the curtain of water. The wolf followed with surprising grace, its massive body somehow navigating the narrow path without faltering.

 Inside, the cave opened into a surprisingly large chamber. The continuous flow of the waterfall created evershifting patterns of light across the stone walls, and the air held an unusual warmth that contrasted with the chill outside. Most remarkable of all were the symbols carved into the stone. ancient glyphs spiraling from floor to ceiling, some faintly luminous in the darkness.

 My grandmother never explained these,” I said softly, tracing one glowing symbol with my fingertip. She said I wasn’t ready to understand their meaning. The wolf moved through the cave with strange familiarity, examining the carvings with intense focus.

 It stopped before a particular section of wall where the symbols formed a circular pattern around what appeared to be a large wolf with a crescent moon upon its brow. Beneath this image, smaller figures knelt in apparent supplication. My heart beat faster as I approached, drawn by the wolf’s obvious interest. “This looks like you,” I said hesitantly, comparing the silver marking on the wolf’s chest to the crescent in the carving.

 “What does it mean?” The wolf whed softly, pressing its nose to the carving before turning those intelligent eyes to me. Frustration was evident in its gaze. It was trying to communicate something crucial, something I couldn’t grasp. I wish you could speak, I said, sinking down to sit beside it. I wish I understood what’s happening.

 Exhaustion suddenly washed over me, the events of the past two days catching up all at once. I spread my blanket on the smooth stone floor and coaxed the wolf to lie beside me. Despite its initial reluctance, it eventually settled, allowing me to check its wounds by the ethereal light that filtered through the waterfall.

 “You’re healing even faster now,” I murmured in amazement, examining the gash along its side that had already closed into a pink scar. “Is it this place? Is there truly magic here?” The wolf made no response beyond watching me with those unwavering amber eyes. I retrieved my grandmother’s journal from my pack, flipping through the pages by the cave’s strange ambient light.

 There must be something in here, I said, scanning the familiar handwriting. Some explanation for all of this. Most of the journal contained what I already knew. Recipes for tinctures and salves, descriptions of medicinal plants, instructions for setting bones and treating fevers. But toward the back, the entries changed in tone and content, becoming more like the stories my grandmother had told me as a child.

 Stories of the old ones who had dwelled in these mountains since time immemorial, of the pact between humans and wolves, of kings who wore fur beneath the full moon. One passage in particular caught my attention, accompanied by a small sketch that mirrored the carving on the cave wall. The Alpha King bears the crescent mark upon his chest, the sign of his royal blood and connection to the moon herself.

Once in each generation during the blood moon, he must undergo the trial of solitude, journeying alone beyond his realm to prove his worthiness to rule. During this time, he is vulnerable, stripped of his guardians and royal protection. Many kings have fallen during the trial, slain by rivals or those who fear the old magic. Those who survive return stronger.

 Their bond with the moon renewed. My fingers trembled as I turned the page. Finding another entry. The pendant was given to our ancestor by the alpha king himself. A token of gratitude for saving his life during the trial. With it comes both protection and peril. For it marks our bloodline as allies of the wolf throne.

Blessed in their eyes, suspect in human lands. The women of our line are bound to the pendant and to the promise made centuries ago, that should an alpha king in need cross our path during his trial, we would offer aid without question, keeping his secret until the blood moon waines. My hand flew to my throat, clutching the silver pendant.

 The blood moon, I whispered, looking up at the wolf. That’s what they called the harvest moon this year. A blood moon. And you? My voice faltered as the implications crashed over me. You’re not just a wolf, you’re their king. The wolf, the alpha king, held my gaze steadily, neither confirming nor denying, but something in those amber eyes softened, perhaps with relief that I was beginning to understand.

 And those men hunting you, they’re trying to prevent you from completing your trial. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of overheard conversation, the strange silver coins, the hunter’s unnatural abilities. They want your throne. A low growl rumbled from the wolf’s chest. Unmistakable agreement.

 It shifted closer to me, its massive head coming to rest against my leg with surprising gentleness. The gesture seemed both protective and imploring. A king reduced to seeking shelter with a simple herbal healer bound by an ancient pact neither of us had chosen.

 My grandmother knew, I realized, scanning the journal’s final pages. She was preparing me for this possibility. But she died before she could tell me everything. I closed the book, suddenly aware of the weight of responsibility that had fallen to me. How long? How long until the blood moon waines and you can return to your people? As if in answer, the wolf’s gaze shifted to the cave entrance, where a sliver of night sky was visible through the falling water.

 The full moon hung low, its usual silver light tinged with the faint rusty hue that had given this particular moon its name. Three more nights? I calculated aloud. We need to keep you safe for three more nights. The wolf huffed softly, its warm breath ghosting across my hand where it rested on the journal’s leather cover.

 Despite the danger, despite the strangeness of it all, I felt an odd calm settling over me. For the first time in my life, the peculiarities that had set me apart from the villagers, my affinity for the forest, my grandmother’s teachings, the pendant I wore, made a kind of sense. I’ll keep my ancestors promise, I told the wolf king solemnly. I’ll see you through your trial. Something shifted in the air between us. Attention I hadn’t fully recognized until it eased.

 The wolf’s eyes, those unnervingly intelligent eyes, held mine for a long moment before it inclined its head in what could only be described as a regal nod of acceptance. We stayed like that, silent in our strange communion, until exhaustion claimed me.

 As sleep dragged me under, I felt the wolf’s warm body settle more firmly against mine, offering both protection and comfort. My last conscious thought was that I’d never felt so strange yet so secure. Sleeping alongside a creature that could kill me with a single bite, yet somehow trusting it completely. In my dreams, I stood in a great hall of stone and timber.

 Torches casting dancing shadows on walls hung with tapestries depicting wolves running beneath a crescent moon. Before me knelt a man I couldn’t quite see, his features blurred as if viewed through flowing water. All I could discern with clarity were his eyes, amber, intelligent, and achingly familiar. “The old blood remembers,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, even when the mind forgets. “You were always meant to find me, daughter of Allah’s line.

” I tried to respond, to ask the questions burning within me. But the dream shifted, dissolved, and I fell deeper into slumber. the Wolf King’s words echoing in my mind. I woke to the sound of dripping water and soft breathing beside me. For a disorienting moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or why I felt so strangely at peace despite the hard stone beneath me.

 Then my hand brushed against thick fur and memory rushed back. The wolf, the hunters, our flight to the hidden cave, the revelations in my grandmother’s journal. Sunlight filtered through the waterfall in fractured rainbows, casting prisms of color across the ancient symbols carved into the walls. The Wolf King was awake, watching me with those unsettlingly intelligent eyes.

 In the daylight, his injuries looked even less severe than they had the night before, the gash along his side now just a thin pink line, the broken leg bearing weight as he rose and stretched with cautious grace. You heal quickly, I observed, sitting up and pushing my tangled pale hair from my face. Is that normal for your kind? The wolf merely gazed at me, unable or unwilling to provide answers in a form I could understand.

I sighed, reaching for my pack and retrieving some dried meat and bread. I suppose there’s much you can’t explain while in this form, I said, offering him a share of the food. Or won’t explain. I’m still not entirely certain how much of the man remains in the wolf.

 The wolf accepted the meat delicately from my fingers, then moved to the edge of the cave where a small rivullet of spring water trickled from the rock. As he drank, I noticed again the strange silver marking on his chest, the crescent moon that proclaimed his royal lineage. While he was distracted, I opened my grandmother’s journal again, searching for more information about the alpha king and his trial.

 Most of what I found were fragmentaryary notes, as if my grandmother had been piecing together an oral tradition passed down incompletely through generations. The trial of solitude strips the alpha king of all but his essential nature. No guards, no royal trappings, no use of his human form until the blood moon waines. During this time, the king must face the challenges set before him with only his instincts and strength.

 Those who pursue him during the trial are oathbreakers, for it has been decreed since the time of the first king that none shall interfere. And later, the pendant serves as both protection and key. In times of greatest need, it may awaken powers long dormant in our bloodline. Our ancestor was said to hear the thoughts of wolves, to see through their eyes when the need was dire.

 Such gifts come at a price, for to open oneself to the old magic is to change forever what one is. I touched the silver crescent at my throat, wondering, was this why I sometimes felt that strange nudge against my mind when the wolf was near? Was this why I’d always felt more at home in the forest than among my own kind? “How much did you know, grandmother?” I whispered.

 “What else didn’t you tell me before you died?” The wolf returned to my side, settling beside me with a soft exhale. Outside our sanctuary, morning birds called to one another, the sounds muffled by the constant rush of the waterfall. For a moment, I could almost pretend we were safe. We should stay here today, I decided aloud.

 You need to rest to heal as much as possible before what? Before we face the hunters again, before the blood moon waned and he returned to whatever throne awaited him, before I returned to my solitary existence, forever changed by these strange days. The wolf huffed softly, nudging my hand with his muzzle. The gesture seemed almost comforting, as if he sensed my tumultuous thoughts.

 I scratched behind his ears absently, marveling at how natural it felt to touch him, to be close to him. despite knowing what who he truly was. “I wonder what you’re like,” I murmured. “In your other form, are you as arrogant as the village men, as dismissive of simple healers and their herbs? Or does wearing fur teach humility even to kings?” The wolf’s amber eyes held mine, somehow managing to convey both dignity and a hint of rye humor.

 Again, I felt that strange brush against my mind. Not words exactly, but impressions. Pride tempered by responsibility. Loneliness despite power. Curiosity about this human woman who spoke so frankly to a king. I drew back, startled. Did you just Was that you in my mind? The wolf cocked his head, eyes intent on my face. This time the impression was clearer.

 Surprise, interest? A question. You heard me? I I think so, I stammered. Excitement and unease warring within me. Not words exactly, but feelings, impressions. I clutched my pendant. The journal said my ancestor could hear the thoughts of wolves. Is that what’s happening? Another brush against my mind. Stronger now. Affirmation.

 Encouragement to try again, to reach back. Hesitantly, I closed my eyes, trying to quiet my racing thoughts. I focused on the pendant in my hand. imagining it as a conduit between us, a bridge built of ancient promises and shared blood. Can you hear me? I directed the thought toward the Wolf King, feeling foolish yet hopeful. The response wasn’t immediate, but when it came, it nearly took my breath away.

 A surge of triumph and wonder that wasn’t mine, followed by a more controlled impression. Faintly. But yes, the old blood remembers the same words from my dream. I opened my eyes to find the wolf watching me intently. Something like respect kindling in those amber depths. This is I struggled for words. This isn’t possible.

 The impression I received in return carried a hint of amusement, says the woman conversing with a wolf. A startled laugh escaped me. Fair point. I hesitated, then asked the question that had been burning within me since I’d read my grandmother’s journal. Why me? Why was I the one to find you? The Wolf King’s response came as a series of impressions rather than coherent thoughts. Fate, the pendant, bloodlines, ancient promises.

Then, more clearly, I was meant to find an ally during the trial. The old magic guided me to you. You were nearly dead when I found you, I pointed out. That seems like poor guidance. A flash of rofal acknowledgement, then the trial tests us in unexpected ways. Perhaps I needed humbling before I could accept help. Humbling? I repeated with a small smile. So you are arrogant then.

 The wolf huffed that sound so like laughter, and I felt his amusement wash through our tenuous mental connection. Then his mood shifted, growing somber, and the impressions he sent turned darker. Hunters closing in, time running short. Danger not just to himself, but to me for aiding him. Dravk and the others, I said grimly.

 Who are they? Why do they hunt you? Images flashed through my mind. Men who could partially shift forms, neither fully human nor fully wolf. A rival pack from northern territories. Ancient grudges and recent provocations. A contested throne and a trial seen as an opportunity to eliminate a young king before his reign could be truly established.

 They’re like you. I breathed. Wolf men, but not not of your pack. Not of my pack, he confirmed. Oath breakers who would see my bloodline end. The crescent moon has ruled these mountains for a thousand years. They seek to change that. While I am vulnerable, the gravity of the situation settled over me a new. I was sheltering not just any fugitive, but a king in exile.

 One whose death would upend the balance of power in lands I’d barely known existed beyond my little valley. The pendant at my throat felt suddenly heavier. The responsibility it represented more tangible. 3 days, I murmured. We need to keep you alive for three more days until the blood moon waines. Then you can shift back and defend yourself properly.

 Confirmation flowed through our connection along with frustration at his current vulnerability and gratitude for my understanding. Can the others shift as well? I asked, thinking of Dravk’s unnaturally keen senses. Is that how they tracked us? Partially, came the impression. They cannot fully take wolf form during the blood moon, but they can access wolf senses. Smell, hearing, speed. It gives them advantages in hunting me.

 And the dark-haired man with DVC, the one who recognized my pendant, a surge of complex emotion, recognition, bitter history, a name, Veilen, my father’s adviser, now a traitor. I absorbed this in silence, piecing together the political intrigue that had spilled over into my simple existence. The Wolf King watched me, patient yet alert, as if gauging my reaction to these revelations.

So, I finally said, a simple herb gatherer with a mysterious pendant finds herself harboring a wolf king on the run from shape-shifting assassins. All because her great great grandmother made some ancient pact. I shook my head, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up.

 My grandmother always said I was meant for something beyond village life, but I rather doubt this is what she had in mind. The wolf king nudged my hand gently, sending impressions of respect, admiration, and most surprisingly, kinship. You bear the weight with grace. Do I have a choice? I countered, though his praise warmed me more than it should have.

 There is always choice, came his response, accompanied by images of what might have been. Me leaving him in the river, turning him over to the hunters, fleeing alone to save myself. You chose courage. Something shifted between us in that moment. Our connection deepening beyond the tentative mental link, beyond the strange circumstances that had thrown us together.

 I felt suddenly, inexplicably, that I had known this wolf, this man, this king for far longer than 2 days. That some part of me had been waiting for this encounter my entire life. What happens when this is over? I asked quietly.

 When the blood moon waines and you return to your throne, what becomes of me? I hadn’t meant to ask such a revealing question, one that exposed the unexpected vulnerability I was beginning to feel. But the words slipped out before I could contain them. The Wolf King’s response was not what I expected. Not platitudes or evasions, but images. A stone fortress nestled among mountain peaks. Halls filled with people, both human and wolf kind.

 A place of honor at a king’s side. A life beyond the small cabin and suspicious village I’d known. Possibility choice. If you wish it, came the careful impression. There would be a place for you. My heart stuttered at the implications. You don’t even know me, I protested weakly. I know enough, he countered, amber eyes holding mine.

 I know your courage, your compassion, your strength. I know you pulled a dying wolf from a river when others would have left it to drown. I know you’ve faced suspicion and isolation yet remained kind. I know. His thought broke off abruptly, his body suddenly tense, ears pricricked forward toward the cave entrance.

 A low growl built in his chest, rumbling through the small space. “What is it?” I whispered instantly alert. The impression that flashed through our connection was sharp with warning. Hunters close. I scrambled to my feet, gathering our meager supplies with shaking hands. How? How did they find us? The old places call to our kind, came his grim response. They would know of this sanctuary. Then we need to leave now.

 I shouldered my pack, mind racing. Is there another way out? A back entrance? The Wolf King was already moving toward the rear of the cave, where the symbols carved into the wall seemed to converge in a spiral pattern. He placed one massive paw against a particular glyph, the crescent moon, and pushed.

 To my astonishment, a section of the seemingly solid rock wall graded softly, revealing a narrow passage beyond. “The old ones built their refuges with care,” came his explanation. “Follow me.” Quickly, I hesitated only long enough to ensure the secret door would close behind us, concealing our escape route. Then I plunged after the wolf king into darkness, one hand on his fur to guide me, the other clutching my pendant like a talisman.

 The passage wound downward, the air growing cooler and damper with each step. No light penetrated here. Yet the wolf moved with confident purpose and through our strengthening mental connection. I could sense his guidance. Left here. Duck beneath this overhang stepped carefully across this underground stream. Eventually, a faint glow appeared ahead. Not daylight, but a strange phosphoresence emanating from fungi that clung to the tunnel walls.

 By this eerie illumination, I could make out ancient carvings similar to those in the cave above, telling stories I couldn’t read of wolves and men and magic longforgotten. We are beneath the mountain now, the wolf king informed me. These tunnels connect all the sacred places in these lands, places where the veil between worlds grows thin.

 Where are we going? I asked, my voice barely above a whisper to the hearthstone. It lies at the center of the old network. From there, we can emerge anywhere in the territory. Hopefully, far from our pursuers, we continued in silence, the tunnel gradually widening into a proper cavern system.

 The glowing fungi grew more abundant, casting everything in a ghostly blue green light that transformed the mundane into the mystical. In such illumination, the Wolf King looked more otherworldly than ever, his silver marking gleaming with an inner light of its own. Hours seemed to pass as we journeyed through this hidden realm.

 Occasionally, the Wolf King would stop, scenting the air or pressing his ear to the stone as if listening for pursuit. Each time, after a tense moment, he would move forward again, leading me deeper into the labyrinth. My sense of time dissolved in the unchanging phosphorescent glow. Hunger nod at my stomach, but I dared not stop to eat.

 Thirst, at least, was easily quenched at the numerous underground springs we passed, their water surprisingly sweet and cold. Finally, the tunnel opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling so high it was lost in darkness above the reach of the fungi’s glow. At its center stood an enormous monolith of black stone, easily three times my height, carved all over with the now familiar symbols.

 The stone seemed to pulse with a subtle energy I could feel even from a distance, like the heartbeat of the mountain itself. The hearthstone, the wolf king confirmed, approaching the monolith with reverent steps. The center of the old magic in these lands. I followed, drawn by an inexplicable pull. As I neared the stone, my pendant grew warm against my skin, then hot enough that I had to pull it out from beneath my clothing.

 To my amazement, the silver crescent was glowing with the same phosphoresence as the fungi, pulsing in time with the subtle thrming of the hearthstone. What’s happening? I whispered. The old blood awakens, came the wolf king’s response, tinged with wonder. Your pendant recognizes its source. I reached the monolith, compelled by a force I couldn’t name to place my palm against its smooth surface.

 The moment my skin touched the stone. Everything changed. Power surged through me, ancient and wild, rushing through my veins like liquid starlight. My vision blurred, then sharpened beyond anything human, revealing details in the darkness I’d never been able to see before. Sense flooded my awareness.

 The mineral tang of the stone, the wolf king’s wild musk, my own fear sweat, and beyond that, the distant smell of pine and snow and open sky. Sounds previously inaudible became clear. water dripping in distant chambers, the soft breathing of small creatures hiding in crevices, and far above the muted roar of wind through mountain passes. Most overwhelming of all was the sudden clarity of my connection to the Wolf King.

 No longer mere impressions, but fully formed thoughts flowed between us, as clear as spoken words, Ara’s blood runs true in you. His voice echoed in my mind, filled with awe. The heartstone has awakened what always lay dormant. I gasped, pulling my hand away from the monolith as if burned. The heightened senses receded somewhat, but didn’t disappear entirely.

 The wolf king regarded me with new intensity, his amber eyes reflecting the glow of my pendant. “What? What did it do to me?” I managed, my voice sounding strange to my newly sensitive ears. “Not to you,” he corrected gently. for you. It awakened what was always there. The gift of your bloodline, the gift my ancestors bestowed upon for her service to the first Alpha King.

 I looked down at my hands, half expecting to see some physical manifestation of the change I felt within. They looked the same, still human, still mine, yet I knew with bone deep certainty that nothing would ever be the same again. “I can hear your thoughts,” I said wonderingly. Not just impressions now, but words clear as speech.

 And I, yours, he confirmed. The bond between us is complete. Something in the way he said bond sent a shiver through me that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Is this permanent? The Wolf King approached, his massive form radiating heat in the cool cavern. That depends on choices yet to be made, he answered, his mental voice careful, measured. But now is not the time to speak of such things.

We must continue. Our pursuers will not give up so easily. As if summoned by his words, a distant howl echoed through the tunnels. Not the natural call of a true wolf, but something more sinister. A sound that raised the hair on the back of my neck. They’ve found the entrance to the tunnels.

 The wolf king growled, his thoughts sharp with urgency. We must hurry. The eastern exit will take us to the high meadows. From there, we can reach the border of my territory by nightfall. With renewed purpose, we raced away from the hearthstone, following a tunnel that sloped gradually upward. My newly enhanced senses made navigating the darkness easier, and I found myself moving with unexpected shurness, as if my body had somehow become more attuned to its surroundings. As we ran, a single thought reverberated through my mind. Impossible to hide from

the Wolf King now that our connection was so strong. Nothing would ever be the same again. Emerging from the underground tunnels into the high meadow felt like being reborn. The late afternoon sunlight momentarily blinded me after hours in the phosphorescent darkness. When my vision adjusted, I gasped at the vista spread before us.

 rolling alpine meadows carpeted with wild flowers, backed by snowcapped peaks that pierced the sky like jagged teeth. The air was thin and crisp, carrying scents of pine, snow, and something else, a wild primal aroma that spoke of freedom and ancient magic. The Wolf King paused, scanning our surroundings with alert eyes. “We crossed the old boundary,” he informed me, satisfaction coloring his thoughts.

We’re within my territory now, though still far from the stronghold. Will that stop them? I asked, still marveling at how clearly his thoughts now registered in my mind. The hunters. It will make them more cautious, he answered, but not deter them entirely. They’ve already broken sacred law by interfering with the trial.

 Trespassing will seem a minor transgression in comparison. We moved swiftly through the meadow, keeping to the shadows cast by scattered stands of wind twisted pines. My newly heightened senses made me acutely aware of everything around us. The whisper of grass beneath our feet, the distant call of an eagle, the subtle shifts in the air that heralded weather changes.

 Most distracting of all was my awareness of the wolf king himself, his strength, his determination, the constant vigilance with which he monitored our surroundings, all transmitted to me through our mental connection. “What now?” I asked as we reached the far side of the meadow where the ground fell away into a steep ravine. What’s the plan once nightfalls? The wolf king’s amber eyes met mine, his thoughts resolute.

 We continue northeast. There’s an outpost near the shadow ridge, a small shelter used by my scouts. We can rest there safely. And then I pressed. We just hide until the blood moon waines. His thoughts carried a mixture of determination and frustration. If necessary, once I can shift back, I’ll deal with Dravk and the traitors permanently.

 The coldness with which he contemplated this retribution sent a shiver through me. It was a sharp reminder of what he truly was. Not just the wounded creature I’d rescued from the river, but a ruler, a warrior, a predator in his own right. “You disapprove?” he questioned, catching my reaction through our bond. I I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. I understand the necessity, but yes, the ease with which you contemplate killing disturbs me.

 Instead of anger, I felt a surprising respect flow from him. Your compassion does you credit, but understand, these are not merely rivals or enemies. They are oathbreakers who would throw our lands into chaos for their ambition. the lives that would be lost in such upheaval. Images flashed through our connection. Villages burning, innocents fleeing, bloodshed on a scale I could barely comprehend. I understand, I said softly.

Truly, it’s just different from my world, is it? His mental voice carried a hint of sadness. Do your human kings not make similar calculations? Do they not weigh lives against stability, peace against sacrifice? I had no answer for that. We continued in silence, picking our way down the ravine’s edge, where a narrow game trail offered passage.

 The sun was sinking toward the western peaks, painting the landscape in gold and amber hues that matched the wolf king’s eyes. As twilight deepened, the world around us transformed. My enhanced senses registered the awakening of nocturnal life. Owls taking wing, small creatures rustling in underbrush, bats beginning their evening hunt. The wolf king moved with increased confidence in the growing darkness, his natural element embracing him.

 “We’re being followed,” he informed me suddenly, his mental voice tight with tension. My heart lurched. “How close, miles yet, but gaining? They’ve picked up our trail.” I glanced at the darkening sky where the blood moon was rising, its rusty glow casting an ominous light. How much farther to this outpost? An hour, perhaps less if we hurry.

 We quickened our pace, no longer speaking aloud to conserve energy. The landscape grew more rugged, the forest denser with ancient pines towering overhead. Despite our urgency, I couldn’t help marveling at the primeval beauty of these woods, so different from the familiar forest around my cabin, wilder and more majestic. An hour passed, then another.

 My muscles burned with exertion. But I pressed on, drawing strength from the wolf king’s unwavering determination flowing through our connection. Finally, a small structure appeared ahead. A stone cottage nestled against a cliff face, nearly invisible among the surrounding boulders. “The outpost,” the Wolf King confirmed. “We’ll be safe here for the night.

” The interior was sparse, but sufficient, a simple hearth, a narrow bed, shelves stocked with dried provisions. I collapsed onto a rough wooden chair, while the Wolf King secured the heavy door, pushing a wooden bar into place across it. Rest, he urged. I’ll keep watch. Too exhausted to argue, I ate some of the dried meat and fruit from the outpost stores, then curled onto the bed, pulling a fur coverlet over me against the mountain chill.

 The wolf king settled before the door, his massive form a sentinel between me and any danger. Despite my exhaustion, sleep proved elusive. My mind raced with everything that had happened. The awakening of abilities I never knew I possessed. the burden of an ancient pact, the inexplicable connection to a being both wolf and man, king and fugitive.

 Through our bond, I sensed the wolf king’s alert watchfulness, his awareness divided between potential external threats and my own restless thoughts. You should sleep, he observed, his mental voice gentler than I’d yet heard it. I can’t, I admitted. Everything has changed so quickly. Two days ago, I was just a village healer with a strange pendant. Now I’m Now you’re becoming who you were always meant to be. He finished when I trailed off, the old blood awakening.

 I sat up, drawing the fur around my shoulders. And who is that exactly? Who am I meant to be in this world of yours that I barely understand? The Wolf King’s amber eyes gleamed in the darkness. That is for you to decide. The gift of your bloodline offers possibility, not destiny.

 Some gift,” I murmured, touching my pendant. “It’s made me an outcast among my own kind my entire life. The villagers always sensed something different about me, even if they couldn’t name it. Sympathy flowed through our connection along with something deeper. Understanding born of similar experience. To stand apart is never easy, even for a king.” I caught fragments of memory.

 A younger version of the man behind the wolf’s eyes, bearing the weight of a crown too soon, facing the mistrust of elders who doubted his readiness. The whispers of rivals who sensed vulnerability. “Is that why you undertake this trial?” I asked. “To prove yourself?” “To prove myself to myself,” he corrected.

 “The opinions of others matter less than knowing my own strength?” I nodded slowly, understanding better than I would have expected. Hadn’t I spent years trying to prove my worth to villagers who would never truly accept me? Hadn’t I too finally realized that the only validation that mattered was my own? What happens when you return? I asked.

 When you take your human form again and reclaim your throne, images flowed between us. A stone fortress built into a mountainside. Great halls filled with both wolves and people who seem to shift between forms at will. Ceremonies beneath the moon. A throne carved from ancient wood and adorned with silver. I rule, he answered simply. I protect my people. I ensure the old ways endure while embracing what must change.

And what of Dravk? The traitors. His thoughts darkened. Justice will be swift. Examples must be made to prevent future challenges. A silence fell between us, charged with unspoken questions. Finally, I voiced the one that had been hovering at the edges of my mind since the hearthstone had awakened my dormant abilities.

 And what of me? When this is over, do I simply return to my cabin, to gathering herbs and being whispered about by villagers? How can I go back to that life now that I know this? I gestured vaguely, encompassing everything, the bond between us, the old magic, the world beyond my small valley. The Wolf King rose from his position by the door, crossing the small room to stand before me, even seated on the bed.

I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His presence was overwhelming, power and majesty contained in a form of muscle and fur and intelligent eyes. “What do you want?” he asked, the question resonating through our connection with surprising vulnerability. “I don’t know,” I admitted.

 “I don’t even know what’s possible. Anything is possible, came his response, accompanied by images that made my breath catch. Myself in fine clothes, walking through the halls I had glimpsed earlier, consulting with healers in a chamber filled with herbs and ancient texts, standing beside a throne while petitioners approached, my pendant gleaming against my skin, marking me as what, adviser, friend? Something more.

You would take me with you? I asked, hardly daring to believe. If you wished it. The Wolf King’s mental voice was carefully measured, but I sensed the emotions he was trying to contain. Hope, uncertainty, a longing that mirrored my own growing feelings. Your abilities would be honored among my people.

 Your knowledge valued, your courage remembered because of my bloodline, because of a promise made generations ago, because of who you are, he corrected firmly. The pendant may have connected our fates, but it is your choices that have earned my respect, my trust. Something unspoken hung between us, a possibility neither of us was ready to name.

 I reached out hesitantly, my fingers brushing through the thick fur of his rough, feeling the solid strength beneath. “I would need time,” I said softly. “To decide.” “Time you shall have,” he promised. But first, we must survive the night. As if his words had conjured them, a distant howl broke the stillness. The same unnatural sound we’d heard in the tunnels.

 The Wolf King stiffened, a growl building in his chest. “They’ve crossed the border,” he snarled, moving back to the door. Closer than I expected, I leapt to my feet, suddenly alert. “How many? Three? Perhaps four?” He scented the air, ears forward. Dravk leads them and Veilen.

 Fear surged through me, but I pushed it aside, focusing instead on practical matters. Can we outrun them? Not in darkness. Not in their territory, and you need rest. What choice do we have? We can’t fight them. Not while you’re still bound by the trial. The Wolf King was silent for a moment, his thoughts churning with calculations and strategies. Finally, resolution crystallized.

We make a stand here. The outpost was built for defense. And we have one advantage they don’t expect. What’s that? His amber eyes fixed on me, specifically on the pendant at my throat. You? The old blood awakened. They will expect me weakened, accompanied by a simple human healer.

 They do not know what the heart stone revealed in you. I don’t know what it revealed either, I protested. I can sense more. Yes, hear your thoughts, but I don’t know how to fight creatures like them. You won’t need to fight as they do, he assured me. The old magic works differently.

 Your ancestor did not defeat enemies with claw and fang, but with the power of the pendant, the ability to connect, to influence, to bind. I clutch the silver crescent, feeling its warmth against my palm. I don’t know how to use such powers. My grandmother died before she could teach me. The knowledge is within you, he insisted. Within your blood, awakened by the heart stone. You must trust yourself.

 Before I could argue further, another howl split the night closer now, perhaps only a mile distant. The wolf king’s hackles rose, a rumbling growl vibrating through his powerful frame. They come, he warned. Remember, Dravc is strong but arrogant. Veilen is cunning. The others will follow their lead. Together, they would overwhelm me in my current state, but divided. We might stand a chance. I finished.

Resolve hardening within me. Whatever dormant abilities the Hearthstone had awakened, I would need to trust they would manifest when needed. I had no other choice. We extinguished the small fire, plunging the outpost into darkness, relieved only by moonlight, filtering through a narrow window.

 The Wolf King positioned himself in the shadows beside the door, while I stood in the center of the room, my pendant now glowing faintly with that same phosphorescent light we’d seen in the underground caverns. Minutes stretched like hours as we waited, the night sounds of the forest gradually silencing as predators approached.

 Through our connection, I sensed the Wolf King’s tightly controlled tension, his readiness to spring despite injuries not yet fully healed. My own heart hammered against my ribs, but my hands were steady. One clasped around my pendant. The other extended before me as if already channeling power I didn’t yet understand.

 “They come,” the Wolf King warned as footsteps, human footsteps, approached the outpost. A heavy knock rattled the door. “We know you’re in there. Your majesty called a smooth voice I recognized as Veilence. The trial is over. Surrender the girl and your life will be spared. The Wolf King’s mental voice was coldly amused. They lie. If I open that door, neither of us leaves alive. I drew a deep breath, feeling something stir within me.

 Power awakening in response to threat. Ancient magic called forth by desperation and resolve. The pendant burned against my skin, no longer merely warm, but hot, pulsing in rhythm with my racing heart. “Trust me,” I whispered to the wolf king, a plan forming in my mind. “When I opened the door, “Be ready.” His amber eyes widened in alarm.

But before he could protest, I stroed forward, threw back the wooden bar, and pulled the door open to face our hunters. In that moment, with moonlight spilling across the threshold and danger standing before me, everything my grandmother had tried to prepare me for. Everything the Hearthstone had awakened within me, everything I was truly meant to be, crystallized into perfect clarity.

 I was the descendant of Aara, bound by blood and oath to the Alpha King’s line. I was the keeper of old magic in a world that had forgotten its power. I was not prey but protector. And as the hunters recoiled in shock at my glowing pendant and the fierce light in my eyes, I knew with absolute certainty this was always my destiny.