Chapter 2 The Awakening of Doubt

Alma ran, panting, her heartbeat pounding like a war drum in her chest. The damp forest floor crunched beneath her swift paws, the night breeze caressing her silver fur as she ran away from the pack, from Kaelen, from everything she had ever known.

She didn't know where she was going, only that she had to flee.

When she reached a rocky promontory overlooking the dense canopy, she hauled herself up with a nimble leap and dropped onto the cold stone. Her breath gradually evened out as she gazed at the forest below, an ocean of shadows and mysteries stretching as far as the eye could see.

The treetops swayed in the wind, quivering like a living entity, and Alma felt a strange nostalgia wash over her. How many times had she wandered through this forest, thinking she belonged there, that her destiny was sealed?

But now she doubted.

She looked up at the horizon. Beyond the trees, beyond the pack's borders, what lay beyond? Did humans live in a world as cruel as the Keibsters', or were there lands where freedom wasn't won through violence and bloodshed?

A shiver ran down her spine.

For the first time, a thought took shape, still fragile but undeniable.

What if she decided to leave for good?

What if her future lay not here, but somewhere out there, where the moon didn't dictate her fate?

Her pale eyes shone for a moment under the astral reflection.

But just as she was lost in her thoughts, a soft noise behind her made her stiffen. A furtive footstep, a barely perceptible breath.

Someone had followed her.

The night breeze had risen, agitated as if carrying within it the echo of Alma's doubts. Crouching on the rock, panting, she scanned the darkness, ready to defend herself if necessary.

"Who's there?" she called, her voice firmer than it felt.

A silence. Then a fluid movement in the shadows.

Her father.

His massive figure slowly emerged from the darkness, advancing with a natural poise, enveloped in a cold calm that contrasted with the anger burning in his golden eyes. He hadn't rushed after her, he hadn't needed to; he knew she would eventually stop, alone with her thoughts.

Without waiting, he joined her on the rock. The wind lifted strands of his fur and Alma felt the tension between them, heavy, suffocating.

"You are my heir," he said sharply. "You have no right to fail."

Alma swallowed hard. She had heard that sentence so many times that she no longer knew if it really belonged to her or just to the role someone wanted to impose on her.

But she also knew that another question haunted her, a question she had asked a hundred times, always left unanswered.

She took a deep breath before whispering, her gaze locked with his.

"Who was my mother?"

The silence stretched, and this time she saw a hesitation. Only a fraction of a second, but enough to raise even greater doubts in her mind.

Her father looked away. He didn't know how to answer. There, on that rock, in that frozen moment between truth and lies, Alma understood that this secret was far greater than anything she had imagined. And perhaps it would be the key to everything she sought to understand.

The tension rose sharply, like a wave about to break against the rocks.

Alma, this time, didn't want to let this answer go, too vague, too cold. Her muscles stiffened, and she asked the question again, her gaze burning with a fever she could no longer contain.

"Who was my mother?"

Her father stared at her for a moment, and she thought she saw a glimmer in his eyes, something buried, repressed. But in a split second, his expression hardened.

"It doesn't matter," he said with implacable firmness. "You are my heir. You don't have the luxury of wandering off into pointless questions."

The words struck Alma like a blow to her heart.

He, he alone knew the truth. She knew it, she felt it. But he refused to answer her, as if her past should remain buried beneath a forced silence. As if she had no right to know who she really was. Rage exploded within her, uncontrollable. She screamed, a furious, heart-rending cry, a storm of frustration and helplessness. Her father didn't back down.

Instead, his own howl rose, louder, echoing through the forest, towering over hers with a raw, undeniable authority. His voice filled the space, spilling into the night, commanding its respect, its power, its intransigence. The leaves shuddered under the blast of their anger, and Alma felt her heart crush beneath the weight of this implacable force.

Her father reminded her that she had no choice. But as the echo of her scream faded into the darkness, Alma knew, deep down, that she would not give up. She would discover the truth. No matter what the cost.

Alma returned to the den with her father, the weight of the silence between them heavier than ever. The trees seemed to have closed in around her, like an invisible prison reminding her of her status, her destiny determined without her consent.

Under the pack's watchful gaze, she felt every step become a burden. Scrutinizing eyes latched onto her figure, some full of questioning, others of judgment. They had sensed her rebellion, even if it hadn't been expressed in words.

Kaelen, perched on a rocky outcrop, watched her return, his gaze cold and piercing. He knew she had hesitated, that she had wanted to protect these humans. Her father advanced in front of her, imposing and unwavering. He said nothing to the pack, as if he didn't want to draw attention to this misconduct. But Alma knew she hadn't escaped punishment.

There was silence as the head hunter approached her father, his expression grave.

"The hunt was disrupted. This must not happen again."

Her father nodded wordlessly and continued forward. Alma looked down for a moment. She belonged here. At least, that's what they expected of her. But she felt, deep down, that her world was crumbling. She had to understand. She had to know. And she knew it was only a matter of time before she broke the pack rules again.