Love By Feral Wolves

The wind that day had teeth.

It bit at my flesh with small hard bites as I stood on the edge of the woods, the flap of my coat hanging like wings. The sky was bruise color, full of hidden things, and the Ccair was heavy and perfumed with pine needles and stale, unspoken stories. I should have turned back. I knew that. But something in the trees was calling to me.

It wasn't a voice, not exactly. More of a presence, a pulse.

Moonshroud Forest was always off-limits. "Off-limits," Grandma would tell me, eyes narrowing, voice firm. I never even asked why. People in our town didn't talk about the forest. They avoided it the way you avoid something that hurt you so badly once, you can't even bear to look at it again.

And yet here I was.

Seventeen. Sick, introverted, invisible Tabitha Stevens with wrists too slender and too many questions. My entire life, I'd felt something missing-like I was made for another location. Another rhythm. Another secret beat only the forest seemed to understand.

That day, the beat caught up with me.

It began as a thrum against my skin. A warmth in the center of my chest. My heart missed a beat, corrected itself into something else. I moved forward. Again. Trees loomed like cathedral pillars, their branches tangled into shadow. I hesitated once, then crossed the border of what was and wasn't.

A Moonshroud wrapped around me.

The path was narrow, nearly non-existent. I followed it anyway, boots crunching softly on soaked leaves from last night's rain. The woods were too quiet, ominously so. No birds, no squirrel chatter. Just me and that. hum. It grew louder with each step, humming low and far like a distant drum.

Whatever it was, something observed me.

I stood there. My breath had caught. The wind had vanished, yet the air hummed with awareness. I felt it, as breath, on the back of my neck. All my reflexes bellowed to flee. But I did not. I whispered, instead, "Hello?"

The forest said nothing.

I turned about slowly, the thudding of my heart loud. Nobody. Nothing. Trees and moss and night. My fists were clenched into fists. "This is ridiculous," I muttered. "Go back, Tabitha. Just go-"

A howl.

Low. Distant. But near enough to freeze my blood.

Not coyote. Not dog. This was wilder. Older. Like it recalled things older than cities. I could feel my mouth get dry. I backed away one step. My boot snagged on a root and I lost my balance and grabbed for a tree trunk smooth with moss. I held my breath.

A second howl answered.

Closer.

I spun to turn.

But the woods were different.

The road disappeared. Disappeared. Trees closed in, branches knotted like hands together. I spun around, fear climbing up my throat. The thrum in my chest was not hope now, but warning.

"You're not supposed to be here," a voice whispered-but not in words. In me.

I remained frozen.

"Who's there?" my voice creaked like dry wood.

There was no reply.

And then.

Movement. To the left. Then right. Shadows darting just beyond reach. My heart was racing. I backed away, then stood still.

Eyes.

Five groups.

Low to the ground. Watching.

They didn't glisten. Not like on TV. They shone, very faintly, like moonlight on still water. And they weren't human. Not even close.

I forgot how to breathe.

A figure drew near. Smooth. Enormous. Silver fur glowed in the fading light. It edged nearer, head lowered, eyes fixed upon me.

A wolf.

My legs shook. I was going to be murdered. I had wandered into their lair, their domain. I was a trophy.

But then-the silver wolf tilted its head.

Intrigued. Watchful.

It did not snarl. Did not show teeth. It. studied me.

And something inside of me shifted. Like a key turning.

"You're the one," that not-voice whispered again and again.

Then the world went black.

---

I awoke, and it was dark.

Not nighttime, exactly. Just. darker than darkness. The kind of darkness where dreams hide. I lay on something soft and warm-fur? Moss? My hands clamped into fists.

I sat up too fast. A throbbing pain thudded behind my eyes.

First, I saw fire. Little, crackling flame trapped inside a ring of stone. Second, I saw them.

Five individuals.

Human.

But not.

They were on the other side of the fire, in the dark. All tall. All watching.

One stepped forward. Silver hair. Green eyes. Familiar.

"You fainted," he said to me. His voice was deep. Even. Too steady for a man who maybe just rescued a lost girl from the woods.

I blinked. "I. the wolves."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Still here."

The others stepped forward. A man with a lopsided grin and golden hair. One with wet-bark-colored skin and eyes full of fire. A woman, pale and lovely, with violet-colored eyes that seemed too knowing. And one who stood in shadow, face unreadable.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

They exchanged glances.

The silver-haired guy fell down next to me. His eyes were too bright. Too perceptive.

"You already know," he said to me.

I wanted to argue. Laugh. Cry. But all I could do was stand there as the fire crackled and something feral stirred up in my blood.

And deep inside me, that hum returned.

Louder than ever.

I couldn't look away from them-the five strangers that were anything but strangers. The one with the silver hair, whose eyes seemed to pierce through all the doubts, looked at me like he was anticipating something. A recollection. A response.

"I don't know anything," I whispered, more to myself than to them.

"But you will," the woman said, stepping into the light. Her figure was soft but commanding, a lullaby made flesh. "We've waited a long time for you, Tabitha."

My back hairs rose at the sound of my name on her lips. I had not spoken it out loud. I had not spoken it to myself.

"How do you know who I am?"

She smiled sadly, and for a moment, something ancient shifted in the background of her eyes. "The forest recalls. And it never forgets its own."

Lazaro, the one most lost in shadows, stepped forward next. The fire only lit the corner of his cheekbone, but I saw the light in his eye-not hunger, but recognition.

"You are where you belong," he said.

My chest tightened. Air thickened again. Too much. Too soon.

This is insane," I breathed, trying to stand. My legs buckled, and Raynor picked me up easily. His hands were warm, heavy.

"Rest," he said. "You crossed a line that most people don't survive. You're going to need time."

Time. Like that ever made sense.

Nevertheless, I didn't struggle as they took me down to a bed of moss. I didn't protest as the fire crackled bigger with no one to feed it. And I didn't flinch when a low howl echoed out once more in the distance-not because I was afraid, but because something deeper made me.

Something inside of me howled back.

_________