Must go. Find mate.
“If you’re in such a hurry, why don't you help me find some decent boots?" I mutter, searching through the footwear options with growing dismay.
The wolf seems to recede slightly, as if considering this request. I shake my head, disturbed by how quickly I'm adapting to this internal dialogue. Maybe I really am losing it.
I finally find boots that might work—soft leather that laces up to mid-calf. Better than nothing. As I pull them on, I try to formulate a plan. The city is huge, the forest beyond it vast. I have no idea how to navigate any of it, but I do agree with the wolf or the voice, whatever… I need to find Fen. He'll know what to do.
Follow scent. Find mate.
"You need to stop with the mate stuff…" I start to argue again, then stop. Maybe the wolf really can help. I’ve always had an uncanny ability to track, but can I really follow Fen by scent? The others said they tried to find him, too. They didn’t have any luck. Why would I?
Mate calls to mate.
I glance at the dead plant next to the broken wardrobe, guilt twisting in my gut. I can't go through the city leaving a trail of destruction. I need to stay human, stay in control, at least until I reach the forest.
"Okay, wolf," I say, feeling ridiculous talking to myself. "We need to find Fen, but we can't use magick. I don’t want to hurt innocent people."
The pressure in my mind shifts, not quite agreement but something like recognition.
I'll take it.
I finish dressing and move to the door, cracking it open to check the corridor. Empty.
Run. Faster as wolf, the voice prods, sending images flashing through my mind—four legs churning across forest floor, wind streaming through fur, scents crystallizing into a map more detailed than any GPS.
"Not happening," I whisper, my stomach knotting at the suggestion.
The very thought of it… of my bones breaking and reforming, skin splitting to make way for fur, my human consciousness submerged beneath animal instinct. Nope. No way.
Would I still be me if I let the wolf take over? Would I remember being human, or would Astrid Mathieson disappear entirely, leaving only a beast? The only reason I'm even entertaining this insanity is because, well, I literally died and came back. Normal rules clearly don't apply anymore. And there is definitely a voice in my head.
But transforming my body? Surrendering to an animal consciousness that keeps calling Fen my "mate"? That's a line I'm not ready to cross. Not when I'm still trying to wrap my head around having an unwanted roommate in my brain.
"Not happening," I say firmly.
As I'm about to step through the doorway, voices approach from around the corner. I freeze, considering my options. Before I can decide whether to retreat or make a break for it, Frigga appears. Another woman, maybe Eir, walks a half-step behind her, silver armor gleaming.
"Astrid," Frigga says, "Can I help you find something?"
I straighten. "I need to find Fen."
“You just woke up. Your body needs more time to recover,” the imposing woman in silver armor speaks up quickly. “You won’t be able to help Fen until you can become a wolf.”
Nope. Just had this conversation. I can tolerate my brain being a little crowded, but no way am I taking fur. “I can’t do that. If I use any magick… I can’t… I already killed that plant when I accidentally ripped the door off the wardrobe. Sorry, by the way.”
Frigga studies me for a moment, then glances at the dead plant and the wardrobe door I demolished.
"I see," she says finally. Her eyes hold something—not judgment, but understanding that makes me uncomfortable. Like she can see right through me.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," I admit. "But I need to find Fen."
The woman in silver armor steps forward, her clinical gaze sweeping over me like I'm a specimen under glass. Her fingers twitch slightly at her sides, as if she's resisting the urge to check my pulse or shine a light in my eyes.
"Astrid, this is Eir," Frigga introduces. "She worked to clear the Chimera's poison from your system."
“Good to meet you. Thank you,” I say.
"Your body is still healing," Eir says, her tone that universal doctor-speak that makes everything sound like both a diagnosis and a reprimand. "The journey to find Prince Fenrir will not be easy. He has retreated deep into the mountains."
