Chapter 4 Shadows before dawn

The first light of dawn crept slowly across the snow. A pale glow touched the edges of the forest, making the trees look like quiet guards waiting for something to happen. Lyra stood outside the cabin with a small basket in her hands. The cold bit at her fingers, but she stayed still for a moment, watching her breath rise in the chilly air.

Inside, Isla was still asleep. Her fever had gone down a little after drinking the moonleaf tea, but the child looked fragile, her tiny hands curled under her cheek like a restless pup. Lyra had kissed her before stepping out. She needed to gather more herbs before the village healer arrived, or the old woman would start asking questions that Lyra was not ready to answer.

She moved quietly among the trees, her senses alert. Every crunch of snow under her boots sounded too loud. Every rustle of a bird taking flight made her pause. The forest, which had once felt like her safe hiding place, now felt watched.

Last night's encounter with Damien had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. The way he had held her wrist. The way his eyes searched her face as if reading every thought she tried to bury.

"Do not think about him," she whispered to herself as she plucked a handful of frost-covered roots. "Not now."

But her heart would not listen. It kept pulling her back to that night years ago;the festival lights, the music, the heat of his touch, and the promise she had broken when she ran.

A sharp snap of a branch made her freeze.

Lyra straightened slowly, her breath held tight in her chest. She turned her head, eyes scanning the trees. At first, there was nothing, only the soft drift of snow. Then she saw it,a shadow between the pines, tall and still, too still to be an animal.

She set the basket down and took a step back. "Who is there?"

Silence.

Her fingers brushed the knife hidden under her cloak. She had learned not to trust silence.

Another step, this time closer. A figure emerged from behind the trees. Not Damien. A stranger. Broad shoulders, dark cloak, and a scar that ran across his jaw.

Lyra's stomach knotted. This was not one of Damien's men.

"You should not wander this far, little wolf," the man said with a faint smirk. His voice was rough, carrying the accent of a pack from the northern borders.

Lyra forced herself to stand tall. "You are on private land. Turn back."

He chuckled. "Is that a welcome? I only came for a word."

"I have nothing to say to you."

The man's eyes glinted. "Not even about the child?"

Cold rushed through her veins. "What child?" she asked carefully.

He smiled wider, showing sharp teeth. "The one you hide so well."

Lyra's heart pounded. How much did he know? How long had they been watching?

She took a step forward, her voice low but steady. "Leave. Now. Before you regret coming here."

The stranger tilted his head, still smiling, then slowly backed into the trees. "We will meet again, Luna."

Her fingers clenched. Luna. He had called her that. He knew.

When she returned to the cabin, her hands were cold but her mind burned with fear. Isla was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

"Mommy, are you okay?" the little girl asked.

Lyra forced a smile. "Yes, my moonbeam. I just stayed out too long. How do you feel?"

"A little better," Isla said, but her eyes searched her mother's face with a wisdom too old for her years. "You look scared."

Lyra sat beside her and stroked her hair. "I am not scared, love. I am careful. There is a difference."

Isla leaned closer, her small voice barely a whisper. "Is he coming?"

Lyra froze. "Who?"

"The man from your dreams," Isla said. "The one with the eyes like fire."

A chill ran down Lyra's spine. "Sleep, Isla," she whispered, tucking the blanket tighter around her. "Just sleep."

But even as the child's eyes closed, the words echoed in her mind. Eyes like fire. Damien's eyes.

By the time the sun rose fully, the forest was awake. Birds called in the distance, and smoke curled from a few chimneys in the hidden village nearby. But the peace felt thin, like glass ready to crack.

Far beyond the trees, Damien rode with two of his trusted guards, following the faint scent trail he had caught during the night. It led him closer to the eastern woods,an area where few dared to build.

"She is close," one of the guards said.

Damien did not answer. His thoughts were heavy with questions. Why had she come back now? What was she hiding? And why did the air carry the faint, sweet scent of something young, something that stirred his wolf in a way he could not explain?

His hands tightened on the reins. "Find her home," he ordered. "But keep your distance. I want to see how far she will run before the truth comes out."