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“Who?”
“My son.”
I snorted, waving that thought away. Violet was obviously just teasing me; there was no way that I was anything like that brooding, often infuriating Alpha.
“Oof,” Violet said, standing up, pressing her palms to her lower back. “My back. I might be getting too old for this kind of work. I’m going to go and get some rest. And in the meantime, Bryn?”
“Hm?”
“Keep your mind open. You never know when the earth will speak to you.”
“Oh. Uh, sure.” Mom said things like that all the time when we worked the land, so I figured Violet was just waxing poetic about the garden. As I got back to work, still struggling with the idea that I was anything like Night, I heard a rustling from the tree line about fifty yards from where I stood.
At first, I saw nothing, just darkness and bushes. I almost went back to my work, but something told me to keep looking. I scanned the tree line again until my eyes landed on a russet-brown wolf standing among the trees. It gazed at me with white-silver eyes. I froze. I didn’t recognize the wolf, but it didn’t seem threatening.
I remained motionless as the wolf slowly began to approach. My heart was beating hard and fast, but I wasn’t afraid, only curious. When the wolf was within fifteen feet of me, I saw that it had a small cut on its left ear. I stood slowly, watching and waiting. I couldn’t say why, but I felt some sort of connection to this wolf, even though it was a stranger to me.
Suddenly, as if in a trance, I slid the work gloves from my hands, dropping them on the ground by the vegetables I hadn’t yet picked. I began to walk slowly toward the wolf. When I was close enough that I could almost reach out and touch its thick fur, it turned and headed back into the tree line, where it looked back at me.
I have to follow it. Heedless of the remaining restrictions that Night had placed on me, forgetting about the work I had yet to do, I followed it into the woods, pushing my way through branches and bushes as I kept the wolf’s gorgeous pelt within sight.
As I moved, I realized how easy it would be for me to escape. It was still light out, and no one was coming after me despite Night, Dom, and Violet’s warnings that there were sentries always keeping an eye on me. It was a beautiful day, and I could run for miles without anyone knowing I was gone. My pace slowed as I thought about leaving the Wargs’ compound behind. It didn’t sit well with me to leave everyone I’d come to know.
Ahead of me, the wolf looked back my way, seemingly asking me to hurry up.
I’ll just see what this wolf wants, I reasoned. Then maybe I can think clearly about this.
With my mind temporarily settled, I increased my speed and continued following the wolf deeper into the woods. Before long, the dense trees parted to reveal the craggy maw of a small cave. The wolf sat beside it. It looked at the cave’s dark entrance, at me, and then back again. It wants me to go inside, but why?
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked it. I hoped it would shift or give some other indication of an answer, but it remained silent. It looked between me and the cave again. Anxiety took hold of my legs, and I hesitated. I had never liked tight spaces or dark caves, but my instincts were telling me that I needed to trust this wolf and venture inside. I just had to be brave.
“Alright, fine,” I grumbled, zipping up my jacket. “I see you’re not too eager to go in yourself, wolf.”
Of course, the wolf said nothing. It just watched as I entered the cave. Inside the cave was dark, wet, and extremely cold. I thrust my hands out as I navigated through the darkness. I gasped when I stumbled over a stalagmite, my shoulder crashing into the cave wall. I squeaked as pain shot through my arm. With the pain came a moment of clarity. What am I doing?
It was so, so stupid to try and navigate my way through some random cave, by myself, in literal pitch-black darkness. I had half a mind to head back out, strange wolf be damned. But at the same time, I felt a tug at my senses—the same feeling that had urged me to keep looking when I hadn’t immediately seen the brown wolf.
No, I shouldn’t be overthinking or second-guessing. I needed to trust my instincts. I took a few deep breaths, resolve filling me, and began to trust the feeling that was urging me onward.
I kept a hand on the cool rock wall. I moved slowly, but each step was confidently placed in front of the other. I wasn’t worried about tripping over another stalagmite or walking into a group of bats. I just needed to stay steady and sure.
Eventually, I rounded a turn in the tunnel, and the ceiling suddenly dropped so low that I had to crawl on my hands and knees. I was freezing, the cold growing more and more unforgiving as I inched forward. Adrenaline pushed me forward, and the strong sense that I needed to keep going distracted me. Finally, thankfully, the tunnel opened into a much larger space. A few rays of sunlight shone in from a large hole above, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
On the ground lay a wounded, dark-brown wolf, struggling to breathe. I immediately rushed to its side.
Its eyes snapped open, and its snarl brought me up short. My movements had startled it. At least now I was close enough to see what the problem was—its left hind leg was bloody and bent at an odd angle. I glanced up to stare at the hole. It was large enough for the wolf to have fallen through it. Judging by the large amount of moss, leaves, and branches scattered around on the ground, it likely hadn’t seen the opening until it was too late.
The wolf tried to move, but it fell back down with a whimper. I stepped a bit closer, trying to assess any other injuries. There didn’t appear to be any aside from its sharp, rasping breaths. It likely weighed at least 150 pounds—a full-grown wolf. If I was a shifter, I might have been strong enough to help it out of here. But I knew I’d never be able to get it back to the tunnel.
“C-can you shift?” I asked. “In your human form, I can help you out of here. As you are, you’re too heavy for me.”
The wolf glared at me, its bright blue eyes full of mistrust and confusion. Damn it. I looked around and spied the plant matter on the ground. Could I fashion a gurney and drag it out? No, the moss and vines wouldn’t be strong enough to take its weight. The best I could do was make the wolf a bit more comfortable.
But that was better than nothing.
I piled the vegetation into a bed and moved toward the wolf. It snapped and snarled and scratched at me as I tried to heave it onto the bed, but I knew that it wasn’t because it wanted to hurt me. It was like I could sense the wolf’s fear. It was likely in shock, unable to think or behave the way it would normally. I’d learned in school that when shifters experienced trauma or great emotions, their logical human minds receded, leaving the animal brain to react on instinct.
A few bruises and scratches later, I managed to haul the wolf onto the bed. I made sure to pad the spot where the injured leg rested. I heaved a sigh and stepped back. The wolf’s eyes were already starting to droop with exhaustion, and before long, it was snoring.
