Chapter 9 The Shift

The world felt sharper when Abby woke

She had collapsed sometime before dawn, sprawled across her bed in the cabin, too exhausted to even pull the blanket over herself. But when her eyes fluttered open, she wasn't met with grogginess. She was awake, fully and utterly awake, as if something inside her had clicked into place during sleep.

Her body was sore - a deep, satisfying ache - but underneath that was something new: power.

She sat up slowly, breathing in the morning air filtering through the open window. It smelled of pine, damp earth, and... freedom.

A knock sounded at the door.

Before she could answer, Marla strode in. She moved with her usual predator's grace, but there was something different in her expression - a tightness around her mouth that Abby hadn't seen before.

"Get dressed," Marla said briskly. "Council's called for you."

Abby's stomach twisted.

"The Council?"

Marla nodded once. "It's not a punishment," she added, softer. "It's a recognition."

Recognition. The word sat strangely on Abby's tongue. She hadn't asked for recognition. She hadn't even asked to be here.

But part of her - a louder part now - wanted it.

She dressed quickly in plain black jeans and a fitted shirt, her movements sharper, more deliberate than the girl who had stumbled into this life just a week ago. When she met Marla outside, the sun was high, casting long shadows through the trees. The forest seemed to hum around her, as if it, too, sensed the shift inside her.

They walked in silence through the woods, deeper into the heart of the territory. Abby noticed things she hadn't before - the way the wind carried scents across the ground, the tiny shifts in movement that betrayed hidden animals, the pulse of life all around her.

They approached a stone structure half

swallowed by vines and moss. It looked ancient, timeless. A symbol of endurance.

Inside, a circle of elders waited. Men and women with sharp eyes, weathered faces, and the kind of presence that made the air feel heavier just by standing there.

At their center stood an old man with iron-gray hair and a long scar across his jaw. His name was Elias - and Abby recognized him as the true Alpha of the pack.

He studied her in silence for a long moment.

"You faced the feral," Elias said finally. His voice was deep, carrying through the chamber like a drumbeat.

"Yes," Abby said, her voice steady.

"You survived."

Another nod.

"You did more than survive," Elias said, his lips twitching into something that was almost a smile. "You learned. You adapted. You resisted the beast without losing yourself to it. Few do."

The council murmured among themselves, the sound like dry leaves skittering across stone.

Elias stepped forward until he stood mere feet from Abby.

"Tell me," he said. "Do you know what it means to lead?"

Abby's heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She opened her mouth - then closed it. She thought of Marla. Of Jessa. Of the feral's snapping jaws. Of the fire inside her that refused to die, no matter what was thrown at her.

"To lead," Abby said finally, "means to carry more than yourself. It means standing when no one else will. Fighting not for power, but for the ones who can't."

A silence fell over the council.

Then, slowly, Elias nodded.

"You understand more than most," he said. "But understanding is not enough."

He turned and lifted something from a stone pedestal: a narrow strip of black leather, worn but strong.

A mark.

A claim.

Elias held it out to her.

"Take this," he said. "You are not Alpha yet. That must be earned in blood and fire. But today, you are recognized."

Abby reached out, her hand trembling slightly - not from fear, but from the sheer magnitude of this moment - and took the leather.

As her fingers closed around it, the council rose as one.

Acceptance.

Challenge.

Destiny.

All of it roared in her veins as Abby stood tall before them, no longer just a girl trying to survive.

She was something else now.

Something more.

And deep inside her, the wolf stirred and howled its approval.