Chapter 3 THE FIRST FOOTSTEPS

CHAPTER 3- THE FIRST FOOTSTEPS

Morning came colder than before.

Jackline woke beneath her blanket, coals faintly glowing in the firepit like the last pulse of a dying heart. For a moment, she lay still, listening - not to silence, but to breathing beside her.

Steady. Heavy. Real.

The wolf slept near her; his massive body curled like a dark mountain on the stone floor. His presence filled the room with something she had never felt in all her years of emptiness.

Security.

Not because he owed her anything.

Not because she controlled him.

But because he stayed.

Jackline eased herself up carefully so she wouldn't wake him. The light seeping through the broken wall was pale grey, edged with frost. Dew clung to stones like tears caught at dawn.

She moved quietly, gathering her spear and satchel.

Today, she planned to explore deeper into the forest - not just for food, but for answers.

The diary she found waited under her pillow like a secret heartbeat. She hadn't read past the first page last night - exhaustion had stolen the chance. But now, sitting beside the fire, she opened it again.

The ink was careful. Elegant. Human.

We lived here once. Laughed here. Feasted under banners.

Then came the red moon.

And everything changed.

Jackline's blood chilled.

Red moon.

Like the one that had turned the sky to bruised fire days ago - the night the wolf became something more than wolf.

Her eyes darted to him.

Still sleeping. Still beast.

But no longer just a beast.

Her fingers traced the faded script.

They feared prophecy. They feared the child who was born under the crescent.

So they took her.

And they cursed him to guard what remained.

Jackline's heart thudded once - then twice, like the world skipped a beat.

Her breath left her in a whisper.

"The child... was me."

Something moved behind her.

Not a wolf.

Not the wind.

Footsteps.

Jackline spun, spear raised - heart punching her ribs - and the wolf was awake before she had even turned. Fur bristled. Lips peeled back. A growl rolled from deep in his chest, low and thunderous.

Someone stood in the courtyard.

A man.

Not large, but carrying a bow across his back and a knife at his hip. His cloak was soaked at the hem from morning dew. Mud caked his boots - travel-worn. His eyes were sharp, sweeping the ruins as if searching for ghosts.

He froze when he saw her.

Then his gaze slid slowly to the wolf - and widened with fear.

"A forest wolf," he breathed. "A big one. I thought they were just stories."

His hand moved toward his knife.

The wolf stepped forward - silent, ready to strike.

Jackline lifted her spear, voice steady despite the tremor in her blood.

"Stop."

The man blinked - confused that she spoke at all.

Jackline stepped between them.

The wolf growled, but didn't attack - not with her there. She could feel the tension coiled through him like a drawn bowstring, but he waited.

Trusted her choice.

The man swallowed hard, eyes flicking between girl and beast.

"I...didn't come to kill you," he said cautiously. "Or the creature. I- I've heard stories. A girl in a ruined castle. A wolf with moonlight eyes. I thought it was madness, but-"

Jackline's voice cut through like a blade.

"How did you find this place?"

The man hesitated.

"The forest led me."

Jackline's stomach turned.

The forest whispered her name last night.

Now it was guiding strangers to her door.

The wolf took one step forward, positioning himself protectively beside her - not behind, not ahead.

Equal.

The man lifted his hands, palms open.

"My name is Leron," he said. "I'm a traveler from the nearest village. For two days, hunters have spoken of strange sounds in the woods. Some say a beast stalks the old ruins - a wolf bigger than any seen before."

His eyes flickered to the wolf again.

"They don't know you're here," he added quietly. "Not yet."

Not yet.

Jackline felt the weight of those words like a shadow falling over her.

She tightened her grip on her spear. "And what do you want?"

Leron's voice lowered, shaping the word carefully.

"Truth."

He glanced toward the diary in her hand.

"Stories say a princess was born here. Taken at birth. Hidden from those who feared her bloodline."

Jackline's heart slammed to a standstill.

He knew.

Or believed he did.

She swallowed, throat tight.

"You think that's me."

Leron's gaze softened - not with pity, but recognition.

"You look like her."

Her.

The woman in the portrait.

Her mother.

Jackline's knees nearly weakened - but she did not fall.

The wolf stepped closer, shoulder brushing her leg, grounding her like a stone in a river. Silver eyes never left Leron, ready to strike if he so much as twitched wrong.

Jackline steadied herself with a breath.

"If I am who you think I am," she said quietly, "why come here alone?"

Leron hesitated.

Then:

"I didn't come alone."

Jackline's blood ran cold.

The trees beyond the wall stirred - not wind, not birds - movement.

Many footsteps.

Slow.

Heavy.

Men.

Armed.

Hunters.

The wolf growled - deep, violent, shaking the stones beneath them.

Jackline's grip tightened on her spear.

Leron stepped back slowly, hands still raised.

"I tried to warn you," he said, voice strained. "If they find you - if they see him -"

A horn sounded beyond the trees.

Not a hunter's horn.

A war horn.

Jackline's pulse thundered through her veins.

The diary.

The portrait.

The whispers.

The world was coming for her.

The wolf stood like living steel beside her - no longer wounded, no longer dying.

Power coiled through him like storm light waiting to break.

Jackline exhaled once, steady as a heartbeat.

"We face them together," she said.

The wolf's growl deepened - and for the first time, she felt not fear of him, but fear for those outside.

Because the forest had guarded her for years.

Now it was letting others in.

And whatever came through those trees -

would not leave unchanged.

When the Forest Brought Men

The horn echoed through the trees again - low, drawn out, shaking moss from ancient stone. Jackline's pulse hammered in her wrists, her throat, her skull. The wolf shifted into a stance she recognized instinctively:

Not attack.

Not fear.

Readiness.

Jackline's hand tightened on her spear. The courtyard seemed to shrink, walls pressing closer as the first shadows moved at the edge of the forest line. Figures emerged from between the wet trunks - slow, deliberate, armed.

Five men. Maybe more behind them.

Crossbows.

Daggers.

Silver blades.

They stepped into the clearing as if it were their own.

Jackline stood tall at the center of the courtyard - the wolf at her side like a blade forged from moon and shadow. His teeth flashed in the low light. His eyes were silver fire.

The hunters slowed.

Their leader, broad-shouldered with a scar across one cheek, took a step forward. His gaze cut across Jackline first - assessing her quickly - then fell on the wolf.

He froze.

A muttered curse slipped between his teeth.

"That's the beast," he breathed. "The one the legends warned about."

He reached for his bow.

Jackline stepped forward, spear in hand, voice steady like drawn steel.

"Leave."

The men halted - surprised more by her authority than her presence. She wasn't tall. She wasn't armored. She was a girl barefoot in ruins. Yet her voice carried the weight of command - a command her bones had always known how to shape.

"Leave now," she repeated, "and the forest will let you go."

Silence.

Then rough laughter.

"You think this is your forest, girl?" the scarred hunter sneered. "We're not here for you. We're here for him."

The wolf's growl rumbled like thunder beneath the earth.

Another hunter raised his bow; eyes fixed on the beast. "A wolf that size? Pelts like that? Worth more than a year's wages."

He didn't fire.

Not yet.

But he wanted to.

Jackline's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"You shoot him, you die."

More laughter - uneasy this time.

"You speak like a queen," the leader mocked.

Jackline's heart stilled.

Not because she feared the insult - but because the words didn't feel wrong.

They felt like the truth she had forgotten.

She took another step forward, planting herself between the wolf and the hunters. The breeze lifted her hair. The sun behind her turned the ruins into a crown of broken light.

"Last warning," she said. "Leave."

The leader held her eyes - then lifted his hand in signal.

Bows raised.

The world inhaled.

And broke.

THE WOLF UNLEASHED

The first arrow flew.

It never reached her.

The wolf moved like lightning - a shadow blur striking stone with explosive force. A roar ripped through the courtyard, deep and primal, echoing like mountains splitting. The wolf slammed into the hunter's arm, sending the bow clattering across the ground. The man stumbled back with a shout - more startled than hurt.

Two others swung blades - silver flashing.

Jackline's instinct screamed.

She leapt forward, spear catching one blade mid-swing, the clash vibrating through her bones. Her wrists burned, but she held her ground. The second man lunged for the wolf - and the wolf twisted, fast as breath, knocking him flat, pinning him by sheer weight.

Not killing.

Just dominance.

Power.

The courtyard exploded into chaos - shouts, scraping metal, the thud of boots against stone. Jackline thrust her spear again, turning a strike aside, ducking beneath a swing that would have opened her shoulder.

Every move felt like memory - like she'd trained for this her whole life without knowing why.

The wolf fought beside her, not like an animal, but like something tactical. He blocked one man's path, drove another backward, kept every blade away from her skin.

They were not two bodies.

They were one force.

Jackline jabbed the butt of her spear into a hunter's wrist - wood cracking against bone - and he dropped his dagger. It skittered across the floor. She kicked it aside, breath sharp.

The wolves of the forest hunted in silence.

She hunted with purpose.

The leader stared - stunned, shaken. He hesitated, and in that heartbeat Leron - the man who'd warned her - stepped between them.

"Stop!" he shouted. "She's not your enemy!"

The leader spat, furious. "She shelters a beast!"

"He protected her," Leron countered. "You saw it-he could have killed us already."

True.

None of the hunters lay dead.

Only winded, disarmed, outmatched.

The wolf's chest rose and fell - controlled, steady. His eyes locked on the leader. One wrong move would end him.

Not by Jackline's hand.

By the wolves.

Yet Jackline lifted her palm - a silent command - and the wolf stilled.

Not completely.

But enough.

The courtyard fell into a tense, dangerous quiet.

The hunter wiped sweat from his brow, eyes darting between girl and beast.

"You're just a child," he said - shaken now, not mocking. "Why risk your life for a monster?"

Jackline stepped forward, voice low and unwavering.

"He is not a monster."

The wolf stood beside her, eyes bright like forged metal.

"And neither am I."

For the first time, the hunters looked at her the way the forest had whispered her name.

Not as a feral girl.

But as someone claimed by destiny.

Leron lowered his gaze respectfully.

"Princess," he murmured - not loud, but enough.

The word hung like a spark in the air.

The leader stiffened - realization dawning, heavy and dangerous.

"A lost heir," he whispered. "The stolen child. Gods..."

Fear replaced greed in his eyes.

Not fear of her.

Fear of what her existence meant.

"If the kingdom learns you're alive-"

His mouth snapped shut.

Jackline's grip tightened on her spear.

"If they learn," she said quietly, "then we are already running out of time."

The wolf growled - not at the hunters now, but toward the forest, as if sensing more eyes watching.

More coming.

More danger.

The wind shifted - carrying a scent that made every hair on Jackline's neck rise.

Smoke.

And something darker.

Hunters were only the beginning.

Hunter or Hunted

The courtyard held its breath.

Five men stood wounded, disarmed, or cowed. The wolf loomed over them like shadow and winter combined, silent except for the low rumble vibrating through his chest - a warning more ancient than steel.

Jackline faced the hunters with her spear lowered but ready.

She could end this.

They could leave in peace.

Or they could bleed here, forgotten by the forest as all other legends were.

Leron met her eyes - a subtle plea for restraint.

"These men don't understand what you are," he whispered. "Not yet."

The leader scowled at him but didn't speak. His pride was broken - but not his will. He would carry this story back to the world if she let him.

Jackline's voice was quiet and even.

"You came for a pelt. For a trophy. You thought yourselves hunters."

She stepped forward. Not threatening - but unmistakably in control.

"Look around you now."

Their eyes darted across ruined stone and fallen weapons.

"You are prey here."

A shiver ran through the group.

Leron swallowed, barely audible. "...what will you do?"

Jackline did not look at him.

She looked only at the leader.

"I will spare you," she said, "because blood solves nothing. But you will go back to your village with truth in your mouth - not fear."

The leader's jaw clenched.

"What truth?" he asked, voice hard.

Jackline lifted her chin, spine straight as blade-edge.

"That I live."

The courtyard seemed to tilt - as if even the stones beneath their feet weren't sure whether this was doom or destiny.

Wind stirred Jackline's hair. The sun broke briefly through the clouds.

"And that the wolf is mine," she added, voice like quiet thunder.

"My guardian - not my threat."

A ripple moved between the hunters, disbelief warping into something new. Not mockery. Not dismissal.

Respect.

Uneasy, unwilling respect - but real.

The leader hesitated - then gave a single, stiff nod.

"We will leave," he said, voice rough. "The forest wants you alive. I won't argue with gods."

He gestured to his men. They gathered themselves - weapons retrieved but not raised - and backed slowly toward the trees. Their eyes never left Jackline or the wolf.

Leron lingered last - gaze locked on Jackline.

"You don't realize what your existence means," he said softly. "A kingdom without an heir is a throne of war. They will come for you."

Jackline swallowed.

She already knew.

"But so will those who remember loyalty," he added.

He stepped back - then was swallowed by the forest's dark ribs, footsteps fading into leaf and shadow.

Suddenly, the courtyard was quiet again.

Too quiet.

No birds. No wind. Not even settling stone.

As though the world was waiting to see what she would do next.

Jackline slowly lowered her spear.

The wolf exhaled, shoulders easing - but his eyes stayed on the trees, as if expecting the forest to release more than hunters.

The air felt tight - stretched like a bowstring.

Something else was coming.

Something that didn't move like a man or sound like one.

A smell crept through the courtyard - faint at first, then sharp.

Smoke.

And behind it - magic. Old as root and bone.

The wolf stiffened.

Jackline's heart lurched.

She spun toward the distant ridge where the forest rose like a wall of shadow. A thin plume of smoke curled into the grey sky - not wild, not accidental.

Purposeful.

Controlled.

Man-made.

The wolf snarled low, moving toward the gate as if pulled by instinct, hackles raised higher than before. His body vibrated with warning - not fear, not aggression.

Recognition.

Jackline felt it too - deep in her ribs, like a memory she'd never lived.

"That fire wasn't made by hunters," she whispered.

The wolf looked at her - and something ancient burned behind his eyes. Something half-restrained, half inevitable.

She stepped closer, voice barely a breath.

"What are you sensing?"

His gaze bored into hers, and for a terrifying second, she could swear she understood him without words.

Not danger.

Destiny.

Jackline tightened her grip on her spear.

Smoke curled higher, thicker.

Flames snapping - not near, but coming. Closer with every gust of wind.

"We can't stay here," she said.

The wolf responded without sound - by moving to her side, pressing close enough that she felt his warmth through her skin.

Their choice was made.

They leave the ruins.

They face the world waiting beyond.

They walk into a future the forest had hidden for years - now burning at its edges.

Jackline inhaled sharply.

"We go," she said - and the wolves inside the trees seemed to bow to her voice.

The wolf turned with her - no hesitation, no question.

Side by side.

Not captive.

Not a pet.

Not beast and girl.

Two survivors.

Two secrets.

Two halves of a story only just beginning.

They stepped beyond the castle walls as the first echo of something monstrous moved beneath the trees -

and the forest closed behind them like a book finally opening its next page.

FIRE IN THE WOOD

They entered the forest at a slow, deliberate pace.

Jackline kept her spear steady in her grip, stepping over roots slick with morning damp. The wolf matched each footfall, silent as shadow. Nothing moved in the trees - no birds fled, no leaves stirred. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

The smoke rising in the distance was their guide - a thin black thread pulled taut toward something unknown.

Jackline did not rush.

Speed got you killed in the forest.

Instead, she moved like she always had - careful, listening, feeling the ground beneath her like a heartbeat. The wolf slipped through the undergrowth beside her, occasionally padding ahead, returning to brush her side like a silent reassurance.

He checked for danger.

She read the signs he didn't see - snapped twigs, disturbed soil, the silence too deep where animals should have been.

They made a strange pair.

But they made sense.

Halfway through the dense thicket, Jackline paused.

The smell was stronger here - not just woodsmoke, but something sharper, unfamiliar. The wolf stopped too, head lifting, nose flaring.

He growled - not loud, but low and cautious.

Jackline's stomach tightened.

"What do you smell?" she whispered.

He looked at her - and she felt it without words:

Not animals.

Not hunters.

Something older.

She swallowed and continued forward.

The forest grew darker - trees packed tighter, light thinning into pale strips. Moss-coated branches arched overhead like ribs. The smoke thickened as they walked until it curled around them in veils, soft but insistent.

Then they saw it.

A camp.

Not large - three tents, one fire pit still smoking. Half-burned logs. Stray footprints in the dirt.

But no people.

Jackline motioned for the wolf to stay low and crept to the edge of the clearing, heart pounding. She crouched near the blackened fire ring, running two fingers through the ashes.

Still warm.

Whoever had been here had left recently.

She scanned the trees.

A broken arrow.

A torn scrap of fabric.

A ring of silver dust around the campsite - like something had been poured carefully in a circle.

She touched the dust.

Cold tingled through her fingertips - unnatural, almost like frost.

"Magic," she breathed. "Like the frost root."

The wolf stiffened beside her.

He stepped closer to the circle - then stopped abruptly, muscles coiling tight. His lip curled back, but he didn't cross the silver ring.

Jackline frowned.

She tried stepping forward - but as soon as her foot reached the edge of the circle, a force pressed against her skin, prickling like electricity. The wolf snapped his jaws, pulling her back gently but firmly by the edge of her tunic.

She blinked, startled.

"You don't want me to cross."

He didn't release her until she stepped away.

Jackline stared at him.

Something passed between them then - something like instinct recognizing instinct. He was not stopping her from possession or control.

He was protecting her.

He remembered this magic.

Feared it.

Or knew what it meant.

Jackline crouched and studied the circle again, tracing symbols burned faintly into the earth. Lines. Runes. Old language she could not read-but her blood responded, humming beneath her skin.

"This was made to trap something," she whispered.

Or someone.

The wolf growled in agreement - ears pricked, body taut with warning.

Jackline rose, scanning deeper into the trees. The forest floor was disturbed beyond the circle - dragged marks, footprints in frantic patterns.

Something had fled.

Or was taken.

And from the darkness beyond, faint movement flickered - like shadows that weren't shadows at all.

"Someone's close," Jackline murmured.

The wolf lowered his body, muscles coiled like a drawn bow.

Jackline tightened her hold on her spear.

Branches parted behind them.

She spun.

Not hunters.

Not villagers.

A woman stepped into the clearing.

Her cloak was deep green like moss after rain, hood drawn low. Silver embroidery shimmered faintly across the fabric - the same pattern Jackline had seen on the royal blanket in the portrait.

Jackline's breath froze.

The wolf growled, teeth bared - yet did not attack.

The woman lifted a hand, slow, unthreatening.

"Peace," she said - her voice soft, aged like old wood and river stone. "I mean you no harm, child."

Jackline swallowed hard.

Child.

No one had ever called her that before.

"You shouldn't be here," Jackline said, voice steady despite the tremor she felt inside. "You were near the castle last night."

The woman's eyes softened beneath her hood.

"Yes."

Jackline gripped her spear.

"Why?"

The woman's gaze did not waver.

"Because I have searched for seventeen years to find you."

Jackline's heart slammed against her ribs.

Seventeen years.

Her age.

The world seemed to tilt. The trees leaned in. The wolf stepped closer to her side, fur brushing her arm - as though grounding her in reality.

Jackline forced her voice to remain steady.

"Who are you?"

The woman lowered her hood slowly.

Moonlight touched her face - lined with grief, eyes bright with something like recognition. Silver hair braided with leaves fell over her shoulders.

Her voice was soft as prayer.

"I was your mother's closest advisor," she said. "I served the crown before it fell. I hid you the night the red moon rose."

Jackline's breath left her lungs in a trembling rush.

Everything inside her went silent.

The wolf stepped forward - not hostile now, but alert, watching, reading.

Jackline's voice broke out of her like a whisper cracked open:

"You know who I am."

The woman nodded once.

"You are Jackline," she said. "Daughter of the last queen. Lost heir to the throne stolen by sorcery and blood."

Jackline trembled.

Not weakly - but like something deep within her bones had woken.

The woman stepped closer - careful, slow.

"And the wolf beside you..."

her gaze flicked to him with something like sorrow,

"...was cursed to find you. To protect you. To return you when the time came."

Jackline stared - heart pounding, mind racing.

Protector.

Not an accident.

Not a coincidence.

Destiny.

The wolf's eyes met hers - and something ancient stirred behind them. Something she had sensed but never named.

He was never meant to leave her.

And she was never meant to stay hidden.

Jackline's voice came out barely audible.

"What am I meant to do now?"

The woman's answer was quiet, heavy with truth.

"You must reclaim what was taken," she said. "Before those who fear your blood burn the world to keep you from rising."

The wind cut through the trees like a warning cry.

The wolf stepped closer - his body brushing hers like a vow.

And Jackline understood:

Her life in the ruins was finished.

THE TRUTH IN FIRELIGHT

Jackline didn't speak at first.

The forest around them felt too quiet - as if every tree leaned in to hear her answer. Her mind raced with scattered thoughts: the portrait, the diary, the whispers, the hunters' fear, the fire in the distance.

All threads of the same story.

And she - unknowingly - stood at the center of it.

The woman watched her silently, eyes lined with grief and hope woven together like roots.

"I don't know you," Jackline finally said, voice raw. "I don't know my mother. I don't know a kingdom. I know stone and hunger and silence. That is my life."

Her voice cracked - not weak, but honest.

The wolf brushed against her hand. Warm. Solid. Here.

The woman's gaze softened.

"You know survival," she said. "You know how to fight when alone. Now you must learn how to fight for something bigger than yourself."

Jackline swallowed hard.

"What bigger thing?" she whispered.

The woman stepped closer and knelt - not in reverence, but eye-level. She opened her palm.

A small object lay there - silver, worn smooth by time.

A crest.

Jackline stared.

Two wolves, intertwined beneath a crown.

Her pulse thundered.

"I took this from your cradle the night they came," the woman said. "Hunters of the Sorcerer-King. They feared what you would become. They believed you would inherit the moon's power and break his rule."

She closed Jackline's hand around the crest.

"You were meant to be queen."

The wolf growled low - not in threat, but like a vow sealing itself.

Jackline's thoughts swirled like wind in a burned village.

Queen.

Heir.

Stolen child.

All her life, she had been no one - a name spoken only by wind.

Now she was someone the world had hunted.

The woman's voice broke through the storm in her head.

"They will come for you again now. The red moon rising stirred old wards. The forest hid you for years, but destiny has woken - and so has your enemy."

Jackline nodded slowly, a tremor running through her body like lightning under her skin.

"What enemy?"

The woman's expression darkened, like a cloud swallowing the sun.

"The one who cursed the wolf. The one who destroyed your kingdom. The one who would rather spill the world into ash than see the rightful heir rise."

Her next words dropped like a stone.

"Your uncle. The Sorcerer-King."

Jackline's breath vanished.

Her uncle.

Her blood.

The reason she grew up alone.

The woman stood, cloak shifting in the wind like wings of shadow.

"You must leave this forest," she said. "You cannot face what hunts you from within forgotten walls. You must learn who you are - outside ruins. Outside fear."

Jackline looked back the way they had come - through trees toward the only home she had ever known.

The castle had been her world.

But a world could be a cage.

The wolf nudged her leg - as if sensing her hesitation. His eyes shone with something fierce, something certain.

Not leaving her.

Not letting her turn back.

Her voice trembled, soft but growing steadier.

"I don't know how to be what I'm meant to be."

The woman stepped forward - placed a hand against Jackline's cheek, gentle but strong.

"No one begins as a queen," she murmured. "You become one by walking toward the fire, not away from it."

Jackline inhaled sharply - and made her choice.

"We go."

The wolf stood tall beside her.

The advisor nodded once - approval silent but powerful.

Then she lifted her hand toward the smoke.

"Three days' journey through the forest," she said. "Reach the river road. Find the village called Elder Reign. There will be allies there - and enemies. Trust carefully."

Jackline tightened her grip around the crest. Silver warmed against her skin.

"What about you?" she asked.

The woman stepped back - cloak drawing shadows around her like mist.

"I must delay those tracking you. I am old magic - but you are new destiny."

Her voice lowered to a whisper like leaves falling.

"They will burn through me to reach you. So, you must outrun the flame."

Jackline's chest clenched.

She wanted to protest - to ask more - to not lose the only bridge to her past she'd ever met - but the woman only smiled, sad and bright.

"I have waited seventeen years for you to breathe beyond these ruins," she said. "Go."

The wolf growled deeply - not defiance, but farewell.

Jackline forced herself to turn - step by step - toward the world waiting like teeth beyond the tree line.

She did not look back.

Not because she lacked feeling.

But because she understood:

Stepping forward meant more than just walking.

It meant beginning.

The forest parted like a door.

Jackline crossed the threshold with a wolf at her side, a crest in her hand, and fire in her blood.

Behind her, the world she had always known began to burn.