Chapter 6 Feral

I left the safehouse as silently as I had arrived, slipping past the outer guards who gave me a look of weary uncertainty. I didn't follow the paths the others would take. Instead, I struck out into the denser woods that bordered the territory, moving with a speed and stealth that came from a lifetime of needing to disappear.

I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing my senses beyond the usual. I reached out, not with my hands, but with that part of me that felt the world differently. I felt the life force of the trees, the scurrying of small animals, the distant presence of the other search parties. And beneath it all, a faint, discordant note.

Not the cold emptiness, but something wild, untamed, and laced with a desperate, lonely energy. It was a wolf's energy, but twisted, feral.

It pulled me deeper into the woods, towards the rocky, less-travelled parts of the territory.

The scent of the pack, usually strong and comforting, faded behind me, replaced by the damp earth, pine needles, and the growing intensity of that strange, human-feral energy.

I moved like a ghost, my feet barely disturbing the fallen leaves, my breathing shallow and controlled. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, every rustle of leaves sounded like a predator. The comfort of the past few days evaporated, replaced by the sharp, biting reality of the wilderness I knew too well.

The trail, if one could call it that, led me to a small, hidden ravine, almost invisible from the forest floor above. Clinging to the steep side was a makeshift shelter, little more than a collection of branches and scavenged materials, cleverly concealed by overgrown bushes. The feral energy pulsed strongly from within.

Caution warred with urgency. Lily was inside. I crept closer, using the natural cover of the rocks and trees. I could hear faint sounds now ,a low whimper, and then a soft, rhythmic humming. A strange lullaby.

I waited, listening, observing. There was no sign of movement outside the shelter. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the shadows and approached the opening.

"Hello?" I called out, my voice calm and even, betraying none of the tension coiling in my gut. "I know you're in there."

Silence.

I waited.

"I'm not here to hurt you," I continued, trying to project sincerity. "I just want to talk. About the pup."

A rustle from inside. A young face peered out, framed by tangled, dark hair. Her eyes were wide, wary, and surprisingly, intensely blue. She looked young, maybe eighteen or nineteen her features sharp with a life lived hard. She didn't smell like the typical she-wolf, not in the conventional sense, but there was something wild in her gaze, something that spoke of instinct and survival honed in isolation. A were-feral.

She didn't speak, just watched me, her eyes darting nervously.

"The pup is part of my pack," I explained gently. "They are worried about her. I want to bring her home."

Slowly, she emerged from the shelter, standing defensively in front of the opening. She was small, wiry, dressed in scavenged clothes that were too big and tattered. In her arms, she held the small toddler. I could just see Lily's tiny, sleepy face peeking out. She looked unharmed, just confused.

"She's quiet," the feral young woman said, her voice raspy, unused.

"She belongs with her parents," I said, taking a step closer. "They miss her terribly."

The young woman clutched Lily tighter. "She likes my humming," she whispered, looking down at the pup. "No one ever liked my humming before."

My heart ached. This wasn't a malicious kidnapping. This was loneliness, reaching out in the only way I knew how.

"What's your name?" I asked softly.

She hesitated. "Eliza," she mumbled, barely audible.

"Eliza. My name is Feei. Why did you take Lily?"

Eliza looked up, her blue eyes filled with a raw, aching vulnerability that was almost harder to face than fear. "I saw her playing. So small. And everyone around her , they belonged. They had a place. A family. They were happy." Her voice broke.

"I just,I wanted to feel what it was like. To have something small depend on you. To not be alone."

Her gaze flicked past me, towards the direction of the safehouse. "I see them. she admitted, her voice dropping. "From the trees. So many of them. Always together. Always safe."

A flicker of resentment crossed her face. "Why do they get that? Why do they belong, and I don't?"

The depth of her yearning hit me like a physical blow. I understood her. Not the kidnapping, but the fundamental ache for connection, for a place in the world. I had felt it for so long, only recently finding a fragile sense of belonging myself.

"Taking her wasn't the way," I said, choosing my words carefully. "It hurt them. It scared the pup."

"I know," she said, looking down at Lily again. "But I didn't know what else to do. How else could I matter?"

This was the turning point. The negotiation wasn't about force, but about understanding and leverage. Her leverage was the pup. Mine was the possibility of something she craved. To belong.

"You want to belong," I stated, making it a simple fact.

She nodded, a single, jerky movement. "More than anything."

"The pack won't hurt you," I said, taking a risk. "They are good wolves. They value life. They value family."

"They're wolves," she said, her voice laced with fear. "And I'm this." She gestured vaguely at herself. "I'm feral. Wild. I don't fit." She waves a partially shifted paw.

"I don't fit either," I said, offering a small, genuine smile. "Not really. " I touched her partially shifted paw and will the change away.

Her eyes widened slightly, a spark of something that wasn't fear or desperation. She stared at her hairless hand, and stared back at me.

"How did you do that?"

"It's a secret. Alpha Draven welcomed me," I continued. "He opened his doors. Or perhaps he simply saw someone who needed help."

I paused, letting that sink in. Then I laid out the terms, the impossible deal that formed in my mind in that instant.

"You want to belong. The pack wants their pup back. I have found a place, however fragile, within those walls."

I took a slow breath. "Give me the pup, Eliza. Let me take her home. And in return. I will help you stay."

She looked at me, confusion etched on her face. "Stay? You mean in the safehouse?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "You let Lily go, unharmed, right now. And I give you my word, my word, that I will not leave you out here."

The implication hung in the air. My presence, the very thing that had made Draven welcome me, was now the currency.

"Why?" she whispered, the single word loaded with questions. "Why would you do that?"

"Because the pup is innocent," I said, looking at Lily, then back at Eliza. "And because I understand what it feels like to be outside, looking in. To crave a place where you belong."

My gaze locked onto hers. "This deal it gives the pup her life back, it gives the pack their peace, and it gives you a connection, however tenuous, to the place you desire."

It was a gamble. A massive, ridiculous gamble. I was trading my freedom to leave for the pup's life and Eliza's strange demand. What would Draven say when he returned? How would I explain that my continued presence wasn't solely an act of my own will, but a condition imposed by a feral young woman in the woods?

Eliza shifted Lily in her arms, her eyes searching mine, looking for a lie, a trick. I stood my ground, my expression open, my intent clear. I wasn't just saying the words; I was putting the weight of my strange existence behind them.

The tension stretched, taut as a bowstring. A squirrel chittered somewhere in the trees, the sound jarring in the stillness.

Finally, slowly, she extended her arms, offering Lily back to me. "You promise?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"You won't leave?"

"I promise," I said, stepping forward to gently take the sleeping pup. Her tiny weight in my arms felt precious, fragile. "As long as I am welcome, you will stay. This is my word." I lay a hand on her cheek, and will the feral away.

She gasps, and clutch her chest with her other hand, staring in disbelief. As her feral scent fades away to be replaced by the typical scent of a female were.

"Moon-blessed. Thank you, " tears cloud her eyes. "I never thought I will become whole again." She hand Lily over and collapse on the ground, weeping out of pure joy.

Eliza watched me cradle Lily, a complex mix of relief, sadness, and a flicker of something akin to triumph on her face. "Okay," she whispered. Take her."

"Thank you, Eliza," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

I didn't linger. With Lily safe in my arms, I turned and began the journey back, moving slower now, more deliberately. I could feel Eliza's eyes on my back until I was out of the ravine.

The walk back was a blur of relief and apprehension. Lily stirred once, giving a soft whimper, and I shushed her gently. The communicator was still clipped to my belt, a silent witness to the fact that I hadn't reported in. I hadn't needed to.

As I neared the safehouse, the scent of the worried pack grew stronger. I could hear the low murmur of voices, the restless pacing of paws on the earth.

Stepping out of the tree line, I was met with a wave of shocked silence. Wolves who had been talking or searching stopped dead, their eyes fixing on me and the small bundle in my arms.

Ronan was the first to reach me, his stern face breaking into a look of profound relief.

"Lily!" he breathed, reaching out a hand tentatively.

"She's safe," I said, my voice hoarse. "She's just sleeping."

Lily's parents rushed forward, tears streaming down their faces as they gently took their daughter from me. The relief that flooded the air was palpable, washing away the fear that had gripped the safehouse. Wolves crowded around, murmuring thanks, their eyes filled with gratitude.

I stood slightly apart, watching the joyous reunion. The weight of the deal I had struck settled upon me. They were thanking me for bringing Lily back, but they didn't know the cost.

Later that evening, after Lily was tucked safely in her bed and the safehouse began to hum with relieved energy, Ronan found me sitting by the dying embers of the common room fire.

"Feei," he said, sitting opposite me. "You saved her. You did what we couldn't. How?"

I looked into the glowing coals, choosing my words carefully. I couldn't tell him the whole truth. Not yet. Not until I'd spoken to Alpha Draven. But I could tell him part of it.

"It was a feral," I said, my voice low.

"A young woman She didn't mean Lily harm. She was just lonely. She saw the pack, saw the belonging, and she took Lily because she wanted a connection. Any connection."

Ronan's expression hardened slightly.

"Feral. They can be dangerous."

"She wasn't malicious," I insisted. "Just desperate. We talked. I convinced her to give Lily back."

I stopped there. I couldn't bring myself to say the rest. The promise I had made, I don't want to put her in harm's way by telling Ronan more than he needs to know.

Ronan studied my face, his Beta senses likely picking up on the unspoken things. "You're not telling me everything," he stated, not unkindly.

"There are complexities," I admitted, looking back at the fire. "Things I need to discuss with Alpha Draven when he returns."

He nodded slowly. "Alright. But know this, Feei. You brought Lily home. You earned the gratitude of this pack. You have a place here, regardless of whatever else is going on."

His words were meant to be comforting, but they felt heavy, layered with irony. Did I? Did I have a place solely based on my actions, or was it now contingent on a deal struck in the wilderness? The comfort I had found felt suddenly precarious, balanced on the edge of a promise I wasn't sure I could keep, or explain.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. I lay in my comfortable bed, the silence of my room no longer feeling entirely safe. I had faced wraiths and hunters and the constant threat of exposure. But this was different. This was a threat to the fragile peace I had found within myself, to the tentative roots I had begun to put down.

I had made a deal with a desperate soul, trading my presence for a life. And now, I had to live with the consequences, navigating the complexities of belonging when your place is no longer entirely your own to claim. The safehouse was still a haven, but it felt smaller now, and the world outside, the world where feral women hid and craved connection, felt a little too close for comfort.