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Fenrir Thorsson
The world has narrowed to a single point of impossibility. Astrid, alive and breathing in my arms. Her scent fills my lungs—familiar yet changed, the clean human notes now interwoven with something wild. Wolf. She is one of us.
The beast inside me howls in triumph, recognizing its mate in a way it never fully could before. We are the same now. Equal.
"Come," I manage.
She shivers slightly in the cooling mountain air, reminding me of our mutual nakedness. I’m very appreciative of the sight of her bare skin in the fading light, but right now all I can think about is getting her somewhere safe and warm… so that I can fully appreciate her.
"There’s a hunter’s den not far," I say, reluctantly releasing her but keeping one hand on the small of her back, unwilling to break contact completely. I fear if I stop touching her, she'll vanish again.
We walk in silence through the deepening twilight, fallen pine needles soft beneath our bare feet. My mind reels, unable to fully grasp the miracle beside me. I felt the moment her heart stopped. The agony of losing her hollowed me out completely. Now she walks beside me, warm and breathing, and so much more.
Part of me fears this is merely a cruel dream. That I'll blink and find myself alone again, howling my grief to an indifferent moon. I steal glances at her profile, memorizing every detail as if she might vanish at any moment. The wolf in me, typically so sure in its instincts, seems equally stunned, oscillating between disbelief and fierce joy.
"So," Astrid says finally, "you've been what… just roaming around as a wolf this whole time?" Her tone is casual, but I hear the undercurrent of concern.
"The wolf is my base," I answer. "He is simpler. Instinctual. Without you holding me as a man, I had nothing left."
She nods, understanding in her eyes.
The small cabin appears between the trees, a hunter's shelter. A stone chimney and sturdy walls to keep out the mountain chill and animals. These woodland refuges follow ancient codes—take what you need, replace what you can. I know we'll find basic supplies, perhaps dried food, definitely firewood.
"It's not much," I say, pushing open the wooden door that creaks in protest.
"It has walls and a roof and fireplace," Astrid replies pragmatically. "That's already better than the alternative."
The interior is spare. A hearth with stacked firewood beside it, a rough-hewn table with two chairs, a trunk pushed against the wall. No bed, just the hard wooden floor and whatever comforts can be pulled from storage.
"Wait here," I tell her, moving to the trunk and retrieving a wool blanket that I wrap around her shoulders. Our fingers brush as she takes it, and the current between us surges, making us both inhale sharply.
"Thanks," she murmurs, clutching the edges of the blanket together at her throat.
I busy myself with lighting the fire, grateful for the simple task to occupy my hands. The kindling catches quickly, and soon flames dance in the hearth, casting golden light across the cabin's interior.
When I turn back to her, she's seated on the floor near the growing warmth, blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak. The firelight catches her features, highlighting the determined set of her jaw and the questioning look in her eyes.
I retrieve another blanket and wrap it around my waist before opening the trunk again, pulling out several thick furs and laying them on the floor to create a makeshift bed. My hands tremble slightly as I work, the reality of her presence still overwhelming my senses. Each mundane task feels surreal. I thought my mate was dead… The wolf in me paces restlessly beneath my skin, desperate to keep her close, to confirm with every heartbeat that she is truly here.
Next come more blankets, and finally, I extract some dried meat and a water skin. My mind circles the same impossible truth. She died. I heard her last heartbeat. Yet here she sits. Breathing. Heart beating. Questions crowd my thoughts, but I push them aside, focusing on her immediate needs while I struggle to process the miracle before me.
"Hungry?" I ask, offering her a piece of jerky and taking a seat next to her on the floor in front of the fireplace. My eyes never leave her face, drinking in every familiar feature as if to reassure myself she won't vanish if I look away.
"Starving, actually." Her voice—that voice I thought silenced forever—sends a fresh wave of wonder through me.
I can no longer contain the question that burns brightest. "How?" The word emerges as little more than a whisper, raw with emotion. "How are you here, Astrid?"
She holds my gaze steadily. "Your grandfather. He merged my soul with a wolf and brought me back." Her hand moves to just below her collarbone, drawing my attention to the faint luminescent glow beneath her skin.
My soul shard burns brightly within her. It’s not gone.
I lean toward her and reach out, my fingertips hovering just above the glow she can’t see. "A piece of my soul lives inside you,” I say, my voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “I think it’s why you had the abilities you did even as a human.”
My fingers touch the spot, and power surges between us like a breaking dam. Everything disappears, and for one breathless moment, I only feel her. See her. Smell her. Hear her heartbeat racing in her chest.
“Can you feel it?”
