Chapter 4 The Huntress and the Storm

The wind picked up by midday, turning the forest into a whispering sea of swaying branches and shaking leaves. Storms came fast in Elandra Hollow, and Selene knew the signs-the way the crows flew low, how the air thickened like damp wool.

They'd need to ride it out in the cave.

She moved with practiced speed, gathering dry wood, herbs, and a handful of forest snare traps she'd set the day before. Rhian insisted on helping, though his wounds hadn't fully sealed. She didn't stop him. Part of her knew better-wounded wolves weren't made to sit still.

She gave him the lighter tasks. Carrying, organizing, dragging logs back. Watching him move like a shadow reminded her how dangerous he truly was, even in recovery. Not just in strength, but in stillness.

When the sky finally cracked open, the two of them were tucked back into the cave, soaked but ready.

The fire hissed as water dripped from their clothes.

Rhian shrugged off his shirt and let it fall by the fire to dry. He wasn't showing off, just done pretending not to ache. His chest was mottled with bruises, claw marks still fading, and a long scar that ran from shoulder to ribs.

Selene pretended not to look. She failed.

He caught her gaze. Didn't speak.

She turned away.

"I used to think I was broken," she said softly. "Because I never shifted. Never felt what others did."

Rhian was quiet.

"But when I found you," she continued, "something inside me moved. Something I didn't know was there."

He didn't respond with words.

Just stood, stepped closer, and sat beside her on the cold stone. Their shoulders brushed. Once. Twice. And then didn't move apart.

The fire flickered across the cave walls.

"You're not broken," he said at last. "You were just waiting."

"For what?"

He looked down at her.

Selene's chest tightened. But she didn't turn away.

"Something real," he said.

Rain battered the stone above them. Thunder cracked like a drumbeat.

Selene leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She didn't know what scared her more-how easily he saw her, or how much she wanted him to keep looking.

That night, she dreamt of wolves again.

Not monsters this time. Not curses. Just her, running free beneath a silver moon, her feet no longer human, her heart no longer afraid.

She woke to silence.

And warmth.

Rhian had covered her with a second blanket. His scent clung to the fabric-pine, smoke, and something deeper, something she didn't have a name for.

She touched the edge of it gently. Not possession. Not pity. Something... gentler.

She wasn't used to gentle.

The world never gave it freely.

By morning, the storm had passed, and the forest glittered like glass. Water clung to leaves, and mist curled between tree trunks.

Rhian was already outside, sharpening a stick into a spear, shirtless in the cold.

Selene leaned against the cave's mouth, arms crossed.

"You're going to reopen the wound."

He didn't stop. "You worry too much."

"You're the one bleeding on my blankets."

"You could've left me. Didn't."

"Don't make me regret it."

He smiled faintly.

They moved through the woods together that day, checking traps, gathering roots and greens. They barely spoke. But the silence between them no longer hurt.

It was companionable now.

Familiar.

Like two wolves circling the same fire without growling.

When dusk came, Selene paused near the ridge where the forest dipped into open valley. Smoke rose in the far distance-too far for ordinary fire. It meant people. Movement.

She pointed.

"Do you think it's your pack?"

"Or whoever tried to kill me."

"Will you go to them?"

Rhian didn't answer.

But Selene already knew the truth. He didn't come here to die. Not anymore. That part of him was gone.

Now, he was watching.

Planning.

Choosing.

And maybe-just maybe-he wasn't going to face them alone.