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Slowly—so slowly she could not say when fear gave way to wonder—it had begun to move again. She had thought the despair was taking her mind. It moved only when she was near, only for her. Its voice slipped into the quiet spaces between waking and sleeping. It spoke of small things at first: of warm comfort on a bleak day, a warning when the oil in the pot caught fire. A sense of this way and not that.

Then, it had spoken of the amulet.

It whispered reassurance when the bond ached. Nudged her with a tiny paw during a craft fair toward the middle-aged man who had lingered over her make-shift stall, who had seen the skill, and who had written a letter of recommendation to that master of woodwork across the seas. That was when the vague idea of becoming an apprentice in the far eastern land began to take shape

Now Feraal butted its little wooden head beneath her chin, fierce and warm despite what it was—a wooden toy possibly imbued with a lost soul.

I will come with you, it promised softly.I will lend you my claws when the breaking hurts.You will not stand alone.

Fae closed her eyes, holding the impossible little thing close, and did not ask how a carved toy could love her.

Some truths she knew in her heart and would see her through the transition.

Now the wildone doll purred fiercely, claws flexing as she kneaded Fae's thigh, claiming her. Her companion, who would likely outlive her.

Wolves lived three to four centuries, if fortune held. This little creature of magic could probably live forever.

Fae rested her forehead against the creature's wooden skull, breath hitching just once.

It would have been a companion to her child, if Fae had ever been granted one.

An impossible dream now.

She closed the satchel, the sound final and soft as a promise of the future kept only to herself.

Chapter 5

She remembered the first time she had laid eyes on Blaidd.

In a flash, she remembered the week after the goddess had blessed her with her wolf.

Celebrations were never quiet in her pack.

Fae remembered the way the pack had gathered in the lower clearing, banners unrolled and weighted with stone, the old pipes brought out from storage and blown, slow and melodious, until the hypnotic sound calmed their wolf spirits. Torches had been lit, though it was still daylight, as was tradition. Her mother had smiled and said it was because fire welcomed the living home and warned the dead to stay where they belonged.

She had stood between her sister and her brother, the brown wolf inside her still raw and restless beneath her skin, as if it knew something life-changing was about to happen. Lisna was at her side—Lisna the Golden, already luminous, carrying herself like a princess who knew her place in the hierarchy. They had received their wolves only a week apart, and it showed—their bodies had strummed with the same heightened awareness, the same barely restrained energy humming beneath their skin, though Lisna wore it like a crown while Fae was trying it on like an ill-fitting cloak.

Lisna and Faelynn had been introduced formally, hand to chest, the pride gleaming in their eyes. They were acknowledged and welcomed as young wolves.

They didn't know there was more to come.

The visiting pack arrived at dusk—dust-streaked and quiet, their wolves held tightly beneath their skin. Training mission, the elders had said, but the truth lay heavier than that. A quarter of their pack had been slaughtered in an attack just weeks ago, including their alpha's lifemate.

Grief clung to them like a second shadow.

Maxen, the alpha's cousin and friend, led the small group, broad shoulders squared, jaw set with the particular hardness of someone who had seen more death and suffering than he should ever. He was younger than Fae had expected, tall, carrying authority not because he wanted it, but because it seemed to have settled into him naturally.

And as he walked through the gates and greeted the alpha and beta families, he had looked up.

Fae remembered it with startling clarity: the exact moment Maxen's gaze found Lisna's, and the world fell away for the two of them.

The world did not stop, the pipes did not falter. Voices continued around them, yet it was like spring had arrived for them.

Lisna had lifted her head as if drawn by a string she hadn't known existed. Her wolf surged forward, bright and eager to meet her lifemate, and for a heartbeat, she looked startled, then delighted. Maxen stilled, breath catching just enough for Fae to notice, his stoic countenance changing into a blinding smile as if he couldn't believe his luck.

There was no hesitation.

Within hours, they were inseparable, with eyes only for each other, hands brushing, and then not bothering to pretend anymore, bodies leaning close as if the space between them was unbearable. And when Maxen had changed into his massive sable wolf and chased Lisna into the wilderness, they all knew they were headed for the mating fields. They had come back altered and marked.