《Wolves of Fate》


 Chapter 1 - Scars beneath the skin

    *


    The city fades, a distant light, The forest calls, its endless night. No whispers here, no pain to hide, Just quiet winds and peace inside.


    *


    The city lights flickered in the distance, dull and fading. They were just bright enough to remind me of the world I had left behind, the world that had never cared about me.


    I had been running for so long, my body was starting to feel it. The ache in my leg had never quite gone away. It wasn¡¯t just the limp; it was the constant exhaustion, the hunger that gnawed at my insides, the loneliness that clung to me like a second skin.


    Eight years.


    I was ten when I left home, or what was supposed to be home. The burns on my face, on my body had been the final push, the moment I couldn¡¯t take it anymore. After the scalding water burned me, after I was left alone to heal, I ran. I never looked back.


    I thought I would find something better out there. But the world was never kind to a runaway. People looked at me with disgust, like I was less than human. And I believed them. I learned quickly that nothing in this world was free. Not food. Not shelter. Not kindness. Every scrap I found was a battle won, but nothing ever lasted.


    And then there was my leg.


    The accident had changed everything. It was supposed to be a simple escape, running from some assholes who thought it was funny to chase a kid like me but it had turned into the worst thing that could¡¯ve happened. Stuck on a fence I didn¡¯t even have time to register a car speeding my way, and after that, it was never the same. The pain didn¡¯t go away, not fully. Every step I took felt like a reminder that I was broken, that I would always be broken.


    I had been scavenging through garbage bins for years. Eating whatever scraps I could find, whatever didn¡¯t make me sick. Some nights, it was stale bread or leftover fast food; other nights, I went to sleep hungry, my stomach a hollow pit. I didn¡¯t trust anyone enough to ask for help, and the idea of someone offering it to me was laughable. The world had made me believe that kindness wasn¡¯t real, that people only took what they could get and gave nothing back.


    I had stopped trusting the daylight a long time ago. The whispers, the sneers, the judgment, it was easier to face the night. At least then, no one could see me. No one could call me names or look at me like I was a freak. The darkness was my only friend.


    But tonight, something felt different.


    I had gotten to a point where I didn¡¯t know if I could keep going. Every night felt the same walking the streets, scavenging, staying out of sight, hiding from the world. It was all just a blur of exhaustion and survival. I had thought about it, day after day, until it became clear: I couldn¡¯t do this forever. I was tired.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    So tired.


    The streets had nothing left to offer me. And I wasn¡¯t sure how much longer I could keep moving, how much longer I could keep hiding. The weight of it all, the hunger, the pain, the loneliness. It was crushing me.


    I had to get away.


    That¡¯s why I had decided. The forest was the only option.


    It wasn¡¯t far. Just on the edge of the town near the main city, barely visible through the shadows. The trees were thick, their branches hanging heavy in the cool night air. The forest was a place where I could disappear, where no one would bother me, where I could finally stop pretending to be okay.


    I walked slowly, letting my leg rest with each step. The pain throbbed like a dull ache, a constant reminder of my brokenness. But I didn¡¯t care anymore.


    The town loomed ahead. It wasn¡¯t much at night, just a few buildings and restaurant lights on, a handful of people going about their business, completely unaware of the boy who had been wandering their streets for years. The food was always the same discarded, stale, and cold. But it was enough to keep me going.


    I moved quietly, my senses alert for any sounds, any movement. It wasn¡¯t just the food I was after; it was the silence. The peace that came when I could disappear into the background, when I didn¡¯t have to interact with anyone, didn¡¯t have to explain why I was the way I was.


    The air was thick with the scent of decay. A half-eaten sandwich lay in a discarded wrapper by the dumpster. I crouched down, my heart racing. The hunger inside me made everything feel like a victory, no matter how small. I grabbed the sandwich and shoved it into my mouth, barely tasting it as I chewed. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to dull the ache in my stomach.


    But even as I ate, I felt a weight in my chest. I wasn¡¯t sure what it was. Maybe it was the realization that I couldn¡¯t keep doing this forever. That there was only so much I could take before I broke.


    I had to find a place to rest. A place where I could finally stop moving. A place where I could be alone, away from the world.


    The forest called to me.


    I didn¡¯t care if I died out there. I didn¡¯t care if I was lost to the trees. It was better than going another day, another night, in the city. I was done. Done with the people. Done with the pain. Done with surviving.


    The forest was waiting for me, and that was enough.


    I didn¡¯t need much. Just a place to sleep, a place to hide. I found a small clearing between the trees, the earth soft under my feet. The cold breeze cut through the night, but I welcomed it.


    I had a few broken branches, some dry leaves, and a small matchbook in my pocket. That was all I needed. A small fire, enough to keep the chill away. I built it slowly, the flames flickering and dancing in the dark, casting long shadows over the forest floor.


    I sat down, close enough to feel the warmth, but far enough to let the smoke rise without stinging my eyes. My back rested against a thick tree, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I allowed myself to stop moving.


    The fire crackled softly, and the world felt quiet. I stared into the flames, watching them twist and turn. They were alive, but they would die. Just like everything else.


    The loneliness didn¡¯t feel as sharp now. It was always there, like a constant hum in the background, but tonight, it felt... manageable. The silence was like an old friend.


    I was done running. Done fighting. I had made my choice.


    I didn¡¯t care if I was still alive tomorrow. The forest would be my home. The fire would keep me warm, and the shadows would keep me safe.


    And for now, that was enough.


    ---

 Chapter 2 - The Quiet Struggle

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    Beneath the trees, where shadows creep, A scarred boy guards his fragile keep. The forest hums with watchful eyes, Each rustling leaf a whispered lie. The flames reflect his aching past, A fleeting warmth he hopes will last. Alone, he stares into the glow, A quiet fight the dark won¡¯t show.


    *


    The forest had a certain kind of peace to it, but it wasn¡¯t the comforting kind. It was the quiet of a predator waiting to pounce, of shadows that stretched too far and trees that whispered secrets you couldn¡¯t quite make out. The wind moved lazily through the branches, carrying the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves. The occasional snap of a twig sent my pulse racing, my ears straining to pick up a sound that wasn¡¯t there.


    Even the rustling leaves underfoot felt louder than they should have, like the forest was reminding me I didn¡¯t belong.


    I moved carefully, every step deliberate. My leg didn¡¯t give me much choice; the old injury protested with every uneven stride. Pain pulsed in dull, familiar waves, but I couldn¡¯t stop. Stopping meant hunger. Hunger meant weakness. Weakness in the wild was a death sentence.


    The forest offered little, but I took what I could. A handful of wild berries with skins that stained my fingers. Bitter roots that left a metallic taste lingering on my tongue. A rabbit I¡¯d caught in a crude snare the day before, its meat tough and gamey. The rewards were fleeting, the effort constant.


    It wasn¡¯t enough not for the aching in my stomach or the emptiness gnawing at my chest.


    The shelter I¡¯d cobbled together was just as pitiful as my foraging. A patchwork of scavenged tarps, rotting branches, and mud slathered between gaps to keep out the wind. It leaned awkwardly against a boulder, the kind of thing that would collapse if I so much as looked at it wrong. But it was mine. It was proof I could survive.


    I dropped the berries into a small metal tin I¡¯d found, barely enough for a mouthful, and glanced up at the trees. Their branches clawed at the sky like bony fingers. The sun was sinking lower, its golden light bleeding into deep orange. Soon, the cold would seep in, slow and unrelenting.


    I crouched by the firepit, coaxing a spark from the dry twigs and leaves I¡¯d gathered. The first flicker of flame felt like a victory. Fire meant warmth, light, safety or at least the illusion of it. The small blaze crackled to life, its glow licking at the edges of the dark.


    I watched it for a moment, letting the heat brush against my skin. My scarred hand stretched closer, the warmth soothing the stiff ache in my fingers. The flames reflected in the metal tin at my side, dancing in sharp bursts of orange and gold.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    But the fire couldn¡¯t chase away the cold that lived inside me.


    That chill had settled years ago, back when I still believed in things like kindness and safety. Before fists and neglect taught me how fragile those things really were. I didn¡¯t need mirrors to know what I looked like the scars on my face, the hollow beneath my eye where sight used to be, the jagged edge of my burned skin. I could feel them every time I spoke, every time my jaw moved and the tissue pulled tight.


    People didn¡¯t look at me like I was human anymore. I¡¯d seen it too many times, the way their eyes flicked away, the slight grimace they tried to hide, the pity that was worse than disgust. Being invisible in the forest was better than being a freak in town.


    A sharp crack split the air.


    I froze, my breath catching. My hand hovered over the fire, trembling slightly as I strained to listen. It was just a twig, I told myself. Just an animal moving through the brush. But the stillness that followed was too heavy, too quiet.


    The flames hissed as a breeze passed through, scattering a few embers into the air. I shifted, wincing as my leg throbbed in protest, and reached for the small piece of wood I used as a club. My fingers curled around its rough surface, splinters digging into my palm.


    I didn¡¯t move. I couldn¡¯t.


    The seconds stretched, each one longer than the last, until finally the forest exhaled. The leaves rustled again, the wind picking up, and the moment passed. My heart hammered in my chest as I let out a shaky breath.


    I hated how scared I was. How vulnerable. But that¡¯s what the world had made me a scarred, broken boy who couldn¡¯t trust anyone. The forest was supposed to be my refuge, but even here, the fear followed me.


    I shifted back toward the fire, setting the makeshift club beside me. The flames seemed smaller now, less reassuring. I poked at them with a stick, sending a shower of sparks into the dark.


    The distant hum of the town reached my ears, faint but persistent. I¡¯d seen it up close, and I¡¯d heard it enough times to imagine the streets the cars, the lights, the people moving about their lives without a second thought for someone like me.


    I didn¡¯t need them. I didn¡¯t need anyone.


    That¡¯s what I told myself, anyway.


    But it wasn¡¯t true. The loneliness was always there, like an itch I couldn¡¯t scratch, a weight I couldn¡¯t shake. I told myself I preferred the quiet, that I didn¡¯t want the stares or the whispers. But sometimes, late at night, I¡¯d catch myself longing for a voice that wasn¡¯t my own. For the warmth of someone sitting beside me.


    The fire popped, jolting me from the thought.


    I shook my head, forcing the ache in my chest to retreat. Dreams like that were dangerous. They led to hope, and hope led to disappointment. I couldn¡¯t afford to want more than survival.


    The wind shifted, colder now, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. It slid under my jacket, pricking at my skin and sending a shiver down my spine. I huddled closer to the fire, wrapping my arms around my knees. The flames danced and sputtered, their warmth flickering against my face, but they couldn¡¯t touch the deeper chill buried inside me.


    I tried not to think about what was beyond the trees about the lives people were living in that town, warm and sheltered, surrounded by others. It was better not to imagine what it would be like to walk those streets unseen, unnoticed, just another face in the crowd. That was a luxury I¡¯d lost long ago.


    Instead, I let the forest wrap itself around me. The creak of the trees, the soft patter of something small scurrying through the underbrush. The shadows stretched long and dark, swallowing the last slivers of daylight.


    I threw another branch on the fire, watching as the flames greedily devoured it. The heat surged for a moment, brighter, hotter.


    Maybe tomorrow would be easier. Maybe I¡¯d find something better to eat. Maybe the gnawing ache in my chest would loosen, just a little.


    Or maybe not.


    For now, I let the fire hold my gaze, its flickering light the only thing that felt alive in the stillness. The forest might not welcome me, but it was all I had. And as long as the fire burned, I could pretend, for a little while, that I wasn¡¯t completely alone.


    ---

 Chapter 3 - The Silver Wolf

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    Beneath the moon, her silver gleamed, A wounded queen from forest dreams. A wary gaze, a quiet plea, And trust was born by fire''s decree.


    *


    The fire had burned low, its embers pulsing faintly like the dying heart of some ancient creature. A thin trail of smoke curled upward, swallowed by the dense canopy above. The forest around me was cloaked in a silence so complete it felt heavy, pressing against my ears like the weight of water. Even the occasional rustle of leaves had vanished, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the faint crackle of the fire¡¯s remains.


    I shifted in my makeshift shelter, the cold seeping through the gaps in the mud I had used to patch it together. The chill bit at my fingers and toes, turning them numb despite my efforts to huddle closer to the fading warmth. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a dull, insistent ache that had become as familiar as my own heartbeat.


    The quiet wasn¡¯t comforting. It never was. It had a way of creeping into my mind, digging up old memories I didn¡¯t want to face. I stared at the embers, their light flickering over my scarred hand, and tried to push the thoughts away. The forest was supposed to be my sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a tomb.


    Then came the sound.


    It was faint at first a sharp crack somewhere in the distance. My head snapped up, my breath catching in my throat. I froze, straining to hear over the wild thud of my heartbeat. Seconds passed. The silence returned, but it wasn¡¯t the same. It felt alive now, charged with tension.


    Another noise followed, the unmistakable rustle of leaves underfoot. This time it was closer. Too close.


    I gripped the stick I kept by the fire a pitiful weapon, but it was all I had. My body tensed, every muscle coiled tight as I squinted into the darkness. The firelight barely reached beyond a few feet, leaving the world beyond it a wall of shifting shadows. My breath clouded in the cold night air as I waited, unmoving.


    And then it appeared.


    The creature stepped into the faint glow of the embers, and my grip on the stick faltered. It wasn¡¯t human. It wasn¡¯t anything I¡¯d ever seen before.


    A wolf, massive and otherworldly, its fur shimmering like liquid silver in the dim light. It moved with a predator¡¯s grace, its shoulders rolling with each step, the muscles beneath its coat rippling as if carved from stone. Its eyes caught the firelight, two blue orbs that glowed pale and sharp, holding me captive with their intensity.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I couldn¡¯t move. My breath hitched, my pulse hammering in my ears. This wasn¡¯t just a wolf; it was something primal, something out of a legend. The sheer size of it... it stood taller than any wolf I¡¯d ever imagined, its presence filling the clearing as if it had been born of the forest itself.


    The wolf froze, its gaze locking onto mine. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. My instincts screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn¡¯t obey. There was something in the way it looked at me something intelligent, deliberate. Its eyes weren¡¯t just wild; they were calculating.


    And then, with no warning, it collapsed.


    The sound of its fall was startling, a dull thud that reverberated through the ground and into my chest. I flinched, my grip tightening on the stick as the wolf crumpled onto its side. Its breathing was labored, each rise and fall of its massive chest shaky and uneven.


    I hesitated, torn between fear and an inexplicable pull to move closer. The firelight revealed the source of its distress dark streaks of blood matted its silver coat, oozing from deep gashes along its flank. The wounds were savage, the edges jagged and raw, as though inflicted by something just as deadly as this wolf.


    The wolf let out a low, guttural whine, a sound that twisted something inside me. It wasn¡¯t a threat it was pain. A raw, vulnerable cry that made the predator seem almost¡­ mortal.


    I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. My legs felt rooted to the ground, but something deeper a whisper of compassion, or maybe recklessness pushed me forward.


    The wolf¡¯s ears flicked as I approached, its gaze narrowing. Its lips curled back, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth, and a growl rumbled from deep within its chest. I stopped, raising my hands slowly, the stick forgotten.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to hurt you,¡± I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. My throat was tight, the words trembling as they left my lips. ¡°I¡­ I just want to help.¡±


    The growling subsided, though the wolf¡¯s eyes remained fixed on me, unblinking and watchful. It didn¡¯t trust me. I didn¡¯t blame it. But it wasn¡¯t attacking. That had to mean something.


    I moved closer, each step agonizingly slow, until I was kneeling a few feet away. The smell of blood was sharp in the cold air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest. My hands shook as I reached for the small tin of water I kept near the fire. I dipped a scrap of cloth from my bag into it, wringing it out before inching closer.


    The wolf flinched as I touched its wound, a snarl ripping through the air, but it didn¡¯t lash out. I whispered soft apologies, my voice shaky and uncertain, as I cleaned the blood away. The gashes were worse than I¡¯d thought deep enough that I could see the torn muscle beneath. My stomach churned, but I forced myself to keep going.


    The wolf¡¯s breathing steadied, though it remained tense, its gaze never leaving me. The heat of its body radiated against my hands, a sharp contrast to the chill of the night.


    By the time I finished binding the wounds with scraps of cloth, my arms ached, and my fingers were stiff with cold. I sat back, my legs trembling as I lowered myself onto the ground. The wolf¡¯s eyes followed me, its pale gaze softer now, though still wary.


    I stared at it in silence, the firelight casting flickering shadows over its battered form. Despite its injuries, it was breathtaking. Its silver coat glimmered in the light, streaked with blood but still impossibly beautiful.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± I murmured, the words barely audible. The wolf didn¡¯t answer, of course, but its eyes seemed to hold something, an understanding, maybe.


    I shook my head. I didn¡¯t know why I had done this. Why I had risked myself to help a creature that could easily kill me. The thought was too much to unravel tonight.


    ¡­


    After awhile exhaustion hit me like a wave, pulling at my limbs and dragging my thoughts into a haze. I pulled my blanket tighter around me, casting one last glance at the wolf before lying down near the fire.


    The night stretched on, the embers glowing faintly as the forest reclaimed its silence. And for the first time in years, I didn¡¯t feel entirely alone.

 Chapter 4 - A Silent Companion

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    Beneath the dawn, a bond was cast, In silent trust, a moment passed. By night, the wolf had disappeared, But left its mark, a gift revered.


    *


    ---


    When I woke, the world was a muted palette of dawn soft greys and pale yellows filtering through the gaps in the trees. A faint chill clung to the air, biting at my skin. My body was stiff, every muscle aching as if I¡¯d spent the night wrestling with the forest itself.


    I sat up slowly, wincing as my bad leg throbbed in protest. My shelter a crude assembly of branches and leaves had done little to ward off the cold, and I rubbed my hands together, trying to summon some warmth. The ash in the fire pit was cold to the touch, a silent reminder of how fragile its heat had been.


    Then I remembered the wolf.


    I turned sharply, heart leaping in my chest, expecting to see the silver-furred giant still lying where it had collapsed the night before. For a moment, the breath caught in my throat, and my eyes darted to the spot.


    It was still there.


    The wolf lay motionless, its massive body curled slightly as if the ground offered it comfort. The morning light caught in its fur, turning the silver coat into something almost ethereal. It was less a creature of flesh and bone and more like a spirit of the forest, bound temporarily to this world. Its shallow breaths were the only indication it was alive, the rhythmic rise and fall of its side hypnotic in the stillness of the morning.


    I exhaled, tension I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding melting away.


    The faint metallic tang of blood lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy smell of damp leaves and moss. The dried blood on its flank had cracked in places, revealing deep, angry gashes that looked just as brutal in the daylight as they had the night before.


    I shifted closer, each movement slow and deliberate. The wolf¡¯s ears flicked at the sound of rustling leaves beneath my weight, but it didn¡¯t lift its head. Its eyes remained closed, the creature too exhausted or too trusting or perhaps too resigned to react to my approach.


    ¡°You¡¯re still here,¡± I murmured, my voice hoarse from the cold.


    The wolf¡¯s ear twitched in response, and I almost smiled.


    The air felt heavier now, like the forest itself was holding its breath, watching this strange interaction unfold. My own breaths were shallow as I leaned closer, examining the wounds again. They looked¡­ different. The redness had faded slightly, and the swelling wasn¡¯t as pronounced. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d have sworn they were healing faster than they should.


    ¡°Guess you¡¯re tougher than you look,¡± I said, my tone softer than I¡¯d intended.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The wolf opened one eye a sliver of blue that fixed me with an unreadable stare. It wasn¡¯t aggressive, nor was it welcoming. It was simply watchful, as though it was gauging my intentions.


    ¡°I¡¯m just gonna clean them up again, okay?¡± I said, holding my hands out in what I hoped was a non-threatening gesture.


    I moved to the small water container I¡¯d left near the fire pit, dipping a cloth into the cool water. The sensation sent a shiver up my arm, the chill biting through my skin. With cautious movements, I returned to the wolf¡¯s side, the soaked cloth dripping faintly as I brought it closer.


    The wolf tensed, a low growl rumbling deep in its throat.


    ¡°Hey, easy,¡± I whispered, my voice barely audible. ¡°I¡¯m not here to hurt you. Just¡­ let me help.¡±


    The growl subsided, though the wolf¡¯s muscles remained taut beneath its fur. Gently, I pressed the damp cloth against one of the wounds. The wolf flinched, a sharp whine escaping its throat, and I paused, my hands hovering in mid-air.


    ¡°I know it hurts,¡± I said softly. ¡°But it¡¯ll get worse if I don¡¯t clean it.¡±


    I resumed, more carefully this time, wiping away the crusted blood and dirt from the jagged gashes. The texture of its fur was coarse yet thick, the strands clinging to my fingers as I worked. Every so often, the wolf would let out a low whine or a sharp intake of breath, but it didn¡¯t lash out.


    The forest around us was alive with sound now the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirping of birds welcoming the morning. It was strange, almost peaceful, despite the tension of the moment.


    As I cleaned the last wound, I noticed the wolf¡¯s gaze hadn¡¯t left me. Those blue eyes were sharp, intelligent, far more aware than any animal¡¯s eyes had a right to be. It was unsettling, as though it was reading every thought that passed through my head.


    I leaned back, wiping the sweat from my brow. ¡°There,¡± I said, letting out a shaky breath. ¡°That¡¯s the best I can do for now.¡±


    The wolf¡¯s tail gave a faint twitch, almost imperceptible. I didn¡¯t know what it meant, but it felt oddly¡­ approving.


    For the rest of the day, I busied myself with small tasks, all the while acutely aware of the wolf¡¯s presence. Gathering water from the stream was harder than usual; my leg ached more than normal, and the steep incline near the water¡¯s edge tested my patience. By the time I returned to the shelter, my arms were trembling from the strain.


    ¡°You know,¡± I said, settling back into the space near the fire pit, ¡°you could at least try to help. Fetch some water, scare off a bear or two. Earn your keep.¡±


    The wolf let out a soft huff, its ears flicking dismissively.


    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°Figures. I get the only wolf in the forest that¡¯s too noble to lend a paw.¡±


    The hours dragged on, and the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long, golden shadows across the forest floor. The wolf remained a silent companion, listening to me rambling on and on about my life... its breathing steady, its body still save for the occasional twitch of its ears or tail.


    As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, I lit another fire. The flames crackled and popped, the warmth seeping into my skin and chasing away the chill that had settled in my bones.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re still here,¡± I admitted, staring into the fire. ¡°But¡­ I¡¯m glad you are.¡±


    The wolf didn¡¯t respond, but its gaze softened, just slightly.


    When sleep finally came, it was heavy and dreamless, pulling me under like the weight of the forest itself.


    ---


    I woke up in the middle of the night to an unfamiliar stillness.


    The fire had died again, its embers cold and lifeless. My shelter seemed emptier than it had before. I blinked, the fog of sleep lifting slowly, and turned toward the spot where the wolf had been.


    It was empty.


    I froze, staring at the patch of ground where the silver wolf should have been. The faint indentations in the dirt were the only signs it had ever been there at all.


    I stood, my chest tightening as a strange sense of loss swept over me. ¡°Figures,¡± I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Should¡¯ve known you wouldn¡¯t stick around.¡±


    But as I turned to gather my things, I noticed something else.


    A single, silvery tuft of fur lay near the fire pit, glinting faintly in the moon light. I picked it up, the strands soft and cool against my fingers.


    For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at the tiny piece of the wolf it had left behind.


    ¡°Guess you¡¯re full of surprises,¡± I murmured, tucking the tuft into my pocket.


    And with that, I turned toward the dark forest, wondering if I¡¯d ever see it again.

 Chapter 5 - A Silent Vow

    *


    Beneath the moon, the shadows crept, A human¡¯s touch, and silence kept. The wolf retreated, vows were made, A promise left, though none were paid.


    *


    ---


    The forest was alive with the sounds of the night: the soft whisper of wind threading through branches, the occasional rustle of leaves as unseen creatures moved in the underbrush. Moonlight spilled through the gaps in the canopy, painting the ground in silver streaks.


    This had always been my solace, this untamed wilderness where my thoughts could run as free as my paws. Here, I was no one¡¯s heir, no one¡¯s daughter, no one¡¯s obligation. I was simply a wolfen.


    But tonight, the forest betrayed me.


    The scent hit me first a sharp, acrid warning that curled low in my stomach. Kael. His stench clung to the air, thick and unmistakable, mingling with the metallic tang of anger and violence.


    I froze mid-stride, my claws digging into the soil. My ears flicked toward the sound of pawsteps crunching over leaves soft but deliberate, encircling me like predators closing in on wounded prey.


    Then came the growl, low and menacing.


    I spun, my hackles rising as shadows shifted in the gloom. Five wolves emerged from the darkness, their eyes gleaming with malice, their stances predatory. At their center was Kael, his dark fur blending seamlessly into the shadows, his golden eyes glinting with smug satisfaction.


    There was no challenge in his posture, nodemand for submission. He wasn¡¯t here to fight for dominance. This was a hunt.


    A cold snarl curled through my chest, sharp and feral, vibrating in my throat. My claws flexed against the earth as I crouched low, muscles coiled, ready to strike.


    The first wolf lunged.


    I met it head-on, twisting as its jaws snapped inches from my throat. My claws raked across its muzzle, tearing fur and skin, and it yelped, stumbling back. But before I could regain my footing, another wolf barreled into me, its weight driving me into the ground.


    Pain flared in my side as teeth sank deep into my flesh. I twisted, snapping at the attacker¡¯s throat, tasting blood as my fangs tore through soft tissue. It reeled back, choking, but there was no time to savor the victory. Another wolf was already upon me, its claws slashing at my flank.


    The fight descended into chaos a blur of snarls, blood, and pain. Each movement was instinct, every strike aimed to survive. I clawed, bit, and thrashed, my breath ragged and hot in my throat. The scent of blood was everywhere sharp and overwhelming clinging to my fur, saturating the air.


    A howl of pain erupted from one of the wolves as my teeth closed around its leg, the crunch of bone satisfying in its finality. It limped away, whining, but there were still too many. They closed in again, their bodies pressing mine into the dirt, teeth ripping into my shoulder.


    Kael stood just beyond the chaos, watching with a cruel smirk curling his lips. He made no move to join the fight, no gesture to end it. His presence was a mockery, a declaration of his dominance without lifting a claw.


    Coward.


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    I fought harder, desperation driving me. My muscles screamed, my body weakening under the relentless assault, but I refused to yield. With a final surge of strength, I threw one wolf off me, the momentum sending it crashing into a tree. Another lunged for my throat, and I turned, slamming my weight into it, sending it sprawling.


    But the damage was done. Blood poured from gashes along my sides, my legs trembling under the strain. My breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. They circled me, their movements cautious now, their hunger still burning.


    I couldn¡¯t win.


    And they knew it.


    With one last burst of adrenaline, I lunged at the nearest wolf, raking my claws across its flank before bolting into the trees. Pain shot through me with every step, but I didn¡¯t stop. I couldn¡¯t stop. The forest blurred around me, the scent of my own blood trailing behind like a beacon.


    The howls of pursuit faded into the distance, but I didn¡¯t slow. My heart thundered in my chest, my limbs shaking as I pushed forward. The world tilted, shadows swimming in my vision as exhaustion clawed at me.


    The forest was restless. Its usual hum of life the whispering leaves, the distant chatter of creatures seemed muffled, like the world was holding its breath. My body ached, every movement a reminder of the fight I had barely survived.


    I didn¡¯t know how far I had run, only that my legs had finally failed me. When I was about to collapsed in the clearing, I thought it would be the end. But then I caught his scent, faint but distinct. Human. Male. Fearful.


    At first, I tried to run, instinct urging me to move away. But my legs refused, trembling under the weight of exhaustion and blood loss. When my legs finally gave out, I collapsed hard onto the forest floor. I was vulnerable, exposed... everything I despised being. When his shadow loomed over me, I bared my teeth in a weak growl, the sound little more than a rasp.


    He flinched.


    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna hurt you,¡± he said. His voice was soft, uncertain, and his scent betrayed no malice. Only hesitation and fear.


    I watched him with wary eyes as he approached, my body too drained to do anything more. He knelt beside me, his hands trembling as he reached for a cloth, water dripping from it. When the cold touch met my wounds, I tensed, a snarl rumbling weakly from my chest.


    ¡°Easy,¡± he murmured. ¡°I just want to help.¡±


    The pain was sharp, each swipe of the cloth tearing fresh whimpers from my throat, but I let him work. For hours, he cleaned and wrapped my wounds, his movements clumsy but deliberate. By the time he finished, I was too exhausted to even lift my head but I watched him murmur to himself falling asleep by the fire.


    ---


    The next day, I stayed.


    It wasn¡¯t a conscious decision; my body simply refused to move. When it was about midday  I tried to stand, but my legs buckled under me. The boy shaken by the sound, his eyes wide with alarm as he scrambled to my side.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he said, his voice still groggy. ¡°Be careful.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have the strength to snap at him, let alone move away. So I stayed where I was, watching as he tended to wounds. His meager fire and gathered water from the nearby stream. Every movement of his was slow, deliberate, as if he feared making too much noise might scare me off.


    ¡°Guess you¡¯re tougher than you look,¡± his voice sounding softer.


    He talked a lot.


    At first, his words came in hesitant bursts, as though unsure if he should be speaking at all. But as the hours passed, his voice grew steadier, the silence between us filling with his stories. He spoke of pain, of scars both visible and unseen. He didn¡¯t say much about the people who had hurt him, but the weight in his voice told me enough.


    I listened.


    I told myself it was because I had no choice that I couldn¡¯t leave even if I wanted to. But the truth was more complicated. There was something raw in the way he spoke, something that resonated deep in a place I hadn¡¯t known existed.


    For the first time in years, I felt... still. And my wolf loved it.


    ___


    By the time the second night fell, I could feel my strength returning. My kind healed quickly; wounds that would have crippled a human for life were already beginning to close.


    The boy fell asleep near the fire, his face illuminated by its flickering light. I stood slowly, testing my weight on my legs. The pain was still there, but it was manageable now.


    I stepped closer to where he lay, watching his chest rise and fall with slow, even breaths. His features were softened in sleep, the scars on his face catching the firelight. He looked fragile. Too fragile to survive alone in a world as cruel as this.


    And yet, he had survived.


    I lowered my head, inhaling his scent one last time. Then, without a sound, I turned and slipped into the shadows.


    The forest swallowed me whole, but I left a part of myself behind. A tuft of my fur, caught on a branch near the fire pit. A token, though I wasn¡¯t sure why I left it. Perhaps it was a debt. Or maybe it was a promise.


    As I moved deeper into the woods, my thoughts turned to Kael.


    He would pay for what he¡¯d done. For the cowardice that had led him to attack me with his pack of wolfen. My wounds would heal, and when they did, I would make sure he bore scars of his own.


    But first, I needed to return home. My mother would be waiting, no doubt furious at my absence. She would demand answers, and I would give them. But I would also tell her about the boy. About the human who, in his brokenness, had shown me a kindness I hadn¡¯t expected.


    And in the quiet of my mind, I made a vow.


    One day, I would repay that kindness. But I wouldn''t have known that day would come sooner than expected.

 Chapter 6 -

    *


    Wounded, she returns to her pack, A human''s kindness calls her back. Her wolf demands, her heart agrees. She must find him, her soul at peace.


    *


    ---


    The forest was cloaked in shadows, the moonlight barely piercing the thick canopy overhead. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, mingled with the faint metallic tang of her own blood. Sophia pushed through the undergrowth, her paws sinking into the soft, rain-soaked ground. The steady throb of pain radiated from her wounds, but she ignored it. She had no choice. She needed to get back. To report what had happened. To release the weight of the attack from her chest.


    Ahead, the compound¡¯s gates loomed in the dark, tall and imposing. The iron bars glistened faintly with dew, and the faint flicker of torchlight danced across the perimeter walls. The scent of her pack grew stronger, familiar and grounding, though it did little to soothe the storm raging inside her.


    The guards caught her scent before she came into view. Their voices were low, murmured, as they scrambled into position. The gates creaked open just enough for her to slip through.


    Sophia didn¡¯t acknowledge them as she passed. Her claws clicked against the cobblestone courtyard, the faint sound swallowed by the oppressive silence of the night. Whispers followed her like a shadow her packmates¡¯ voices hushed but heavy with concern and curiosity.


    She kept her head high, her stride steady, though every step sent a fresh jolt of pain through her body. Let them wonder, she thought bitterly. Right now, she needed only one person, her mother.


    The alpha¡¯s house loomed at the heart of the compound, its dark wooden beams weathered but sturdy, the windows glowing with soft, amber light. The familiar scent of pinewood and leather wafted out as Sophia nudged the heavy oak door open with her muzzle.


    Her mother was there, standing behind her desk in the study. The soft, golden glow of a single lamp illuminated the room, casting long shadows over the cluttered desk strewn with maps and papers. The alpha¡¯s sharp golden eyes were already fixed on the door, her expression one of practiced calm. But the moment she saw Sophia step into the light, her composure shattered.


    ¡°Sophia.¡±


    Her mother¡¯s voice was sharp, a mix of relief and alarm. The word hung heavy in the air as her gaze traveled over Sophia¡¯s battered body, taking in the blood-matted fur, the shallow cuts, the deeper gashes that had yet to heal.


    Sophia didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she let the transformation begin.


    The change was agonizing, the pain sharper than usual, as if her injured body rebelled against the shift. Her fur receded in waves, claws retracting as her limbs twisted and reshaped. Bones popped, muscles coiled and uncoiled, her spine arching as she forced herself upright. When it was done, she stood naked, her legs trembling slightly from the strain.


    Her mother moved quickly, grabbing a folded cloth from a nearby chair and wrapping it around Sophia¡¯s shoulders. The fabric was rough against her skin, but its warmth was welcome.


    ¡°What happened?¡± her mother demanded, her voice tight with barely restrained fury. Her hands lingered for a moment, brushing against Sophia¡¯s shoulder, before dropping to her sides.


    Sophia took a deep breath. ¡°Kael.¡±


    The name was a growl, low and venomous.


    Her mother stiffened, her lips curling back slightly to reveal a flash of teeth. ¡°Kael?¡± she repeated, her tone sharp. ¡°That bastard son of the Nighthawk Alpha? What did he do?¡±


    Sophia clenched her jaw. ¡°He ambushed me. Couldn¡¯t accept my rejection. So he brought backup. Four others. Thought he could make me regret it.¡±


    Her mother¡¯s growl deepened, vibrating through the air like a distant rumble of thunder. ¡°That arrogant whelp,¡± she spat, pacing away from Sophia to contain her fury. ¡°His father will regret this.¡±


    ¡°He said I¡¯d regret humiliating him,¡± Sophia continued, her voice steady but sharp. ¡°And he made good on his promise.¡±


    Her mother turned back to face her, golden eyes blazing. ¡°You were alone,¡± she said, her voice low and dangerous. ¡°They knew you wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against five of them.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Sophia lifted her chin. ¡°I killed one. Injured two more. But the odds weren¡¯t in my favor. I had to run.¡±


    The silence that followed was heavy, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on.


    ¡°You did what you had to,¡± her mother said finally, though her voice was tight. ¡°But this isn¡¯t over. Kael has crossed a line, and I won¡¯t stand for it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with him,¡± Sophia said, her tone like steel. ¡°He challenged me, not you. This is my fight.¡±


    Her mother¡¯s gaze bore into her, unyielding. After a long moment, she gave a reluctant nod. ¡°Fine. But his father will know that the alliance between our packs is over.¡±


    Sophia nodded curtly, her mind racing with thoughts of revenge. But there was more to say more her mother needed to know.


    ¡°I was injured worse than I thought,¡± she admitted, her voice quieter now. ¡°I couldn¡¯t make it back immediately. I collapsed near the forest¡¯s edge.¡±


    Her mother¡¯s sharp gaze snapped back to her. ¡°You should have called for the pack,¡± she said, her voice laced with frustration.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t,¡± Sophia replied evenly. ¡°But someone found me.¡±


    Her mother¡¯s expression shifted, her brows furrowing in confusion. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°A human.¡±


    The disbelief in her mother¡¯s eyes was almost comical. ¡°A human?¡±


    Sophia nodded. ¡°He didn¡¯t know what I was. To him, I was just a wounded wolfen. He cleaned my wounds, dressed them, and gave me shelter.¡±


    Her mother¡¯s lips pressed into a tight line. ¡°You trusted a human?¡±


    Sophia met her mother¡¯s gaze steadily. ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice. And he didn¡¯t give me a reason not to. He could have left me to die. He didn¡¯t.¡±


    Her mother¡¯s shoulders eased slightly, though her concern was still evident. ¡°And now you want to repay him,¡± she said, the words more a statement than a question.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Sophia said simply. ¡°I owe him that much.¡±


    Her mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°You¡¯re too much like your father sometimes. Always finding reason to care for the undeserving.¡±


    ¡°This one deserves it,¡± Sophia replied firmly.


    Her mother shook her head, but her lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. ¡°Fine. But you¡¯re going to the infirmary first. Those wounds of yours need to be treated. I won¡¯t allow you to be reckless with your life.¡±


    Sophia wanted to argue, but the pain in her side and the lightheadedness from blood loss made her relent. Her mother¡¯s hand on her back was steady as they walked to the pack¡¯s infirmary.


    ¡­


    As the healer tended to her wounds, Sophia¡¯s mind drifted. She thought of the human of the kindness in his touch and the strange pull she felt toward him. She couldn¡¯t explain it, but her wolf instinctively told her one thing with absolute certainty.


    She needed to see him again.


    The healer finished her work, her hands moving with practiced ease, her fingers deft and steady as she pressed gauze over the final wound on Sophia¡¯s side. The faint sting of various herbs seeped into Sophia¡¯s skin, a sharp contrast to the dull ache of her other injuries. The sterile scent of alcohol mixed with the coppery tang of blood, lingering in the cool air of the infirmary.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky,¡± the healer muttered, her voice low but tinged with relief. She discarded the soiled cloth into a metal basin with a clang. ¡°Your healing is rapid, and most of the wounds have already closed. But don¡¯t mistake that for invincibility. You¡¯ll still need rest.¡±


    Sophia sat up slowly, her muscles protesting the movement. Every fiber of her body felt taut, raw, as if the battle had branded itself into her very bones. She flexed her fingers, testing her strength, then shifted her shoulders gingerly. The discomfort was sharp but bearable she had endured worse. Her gaze flicked to her mother, who stood a few feet away, her arms crossed and her face as unreadable as stone. Yet, the way her golden eyes lingered on Sophia¡¯s every movement betrayed her concern.


    ¡°I have to go to him,¡± Sophia said abruptly, her voice breaking the heavy silence as she swung her legs off the bed and stood, unsteady but determined.


    Her mother¡¯s head snapped up, her expression shifting instantly into one of shock and disapproval. ¡°What?¡± she demanded, her voice taut with authority. ¡°No, you¡¯re staying here. You¡¯re in no condition to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Sophia interrupted, her tone clipped and resolute. Her bare feet pressed against the cold tile floor, grounding her as she squared her shoulders. ¡°My wolf is telling me to find him. She''s never been this insistent before, I need to see him now. ¡±


    Her mother opened her mouth to argue, but for a moment, no words came. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration palpable in the tense silence that followed. Finally, with a sigh that carried the weight of her unwilling surrender, she said, ¡°I¡¯m going with you.¡±


    Sophia turned sharply to her mother, startled by the unexpected declaration. ¡°What? Why?¡±


    Her mother¡¯s eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. ¡°You¡¯re not going alone,¡± she said, her voice low and firm, brooking no argument. ¡°If this human is a threat or if anything else happens I¡¯ll deal with it.¡±


    Sophia clenched her jaw, biting back the instinct to protest. She could see the fire in her mother¡¯s gaze, the same fire she¡¯d grown up respecting and fearing. There was no point in arguing when her mother¡¯s mind was made up. ¡°Fine,¡± she muttered, her tone begrudging. ¡°But I¡¯ll be the one to talk to him.¡±


    Her mother gave her a pointed look, her golden eyes glinting with both approval and caution. ¡°I¡¯m not worried about you talking to him,¡± she said, her words slow and deliberate. ¡°I¡¯m worried about what else might happen.¡±


    Sophia said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin line as she strode toward the infirmary door, her movements still a touch too stiff to be natural. Her mother followed close behind, her steps echoing against the tiled floor with a quiet authority.


    As they stepped out into the cool night air, the scent of the forest hit Sophia like a balm. The damp earth, mingled with the faint aroma of pine and decaying leaves, was a grounding force, soothing her racing heart. Yet, despite the crisp air filling her lungs, a different kind of tension began to build within her. Her wolf stirred, a restless energy thrumming beneath her skin, urging her forward.


    Her mother¡¯s steady presence at her side only added to the weight pressing down on her. The older woman said nothing as they walked, but Sophia could feel her scrutiny, her concern a tangible force in the silence between them. She wasn¡¯t used to this, needing someone, feeling a pull she couldn¡¯t fully explain. And yet, that pull was undeniable, a thread tugging her closer to the human who had saved her.


    Sophia¡¯s steps quickened, her resolve hardening with each stride. She didn¡¯t know what she would say to him, what she even wanted from him. All she knew was that she had to see him. To understand why he had risked himself to save her, why his kindness lingered in her thoughts like a stubborn echo.


    Nothing, not even her mother¡¯s watchful gaze, was going to stop her.