Torn Between Two Wolves

I lost my pup when a careless cart struck me on the forest road as I was returning from the pack’s gathering. The shock drove me to the healer’s hut, and the pup within me did not survive the blood loss. Today marked the second moon since the cleansing rite, so Theron accompanied me to the Moon Shrine for my checkup with the elders.

When he offered a hurried excuse and turned to leave, I did not try to hold him back. I no longer grasped at his cloak or begged him to remain by my side as I once had beneath the full moon.

Watching his back fade into the pine shadows, a strange calm settled over me. It was as though a thread that had bound my heart to his had finally loosened. I realized then that whether he stood near or far no longer stirred my spirit as it once did. His absence did not wound me the way it used to.

A young healer called my name, and I accepted the moon-herb remedies and the elders’ words in silence before making my way home alone through the quiet woods.

Not long after, a raven brought his message. It read: Mira, return to the keep on your own. I have matters to attend within the pack.

In earlier days, I would have sent a desperate mindlink across the distance, asking him to come for me, pleading for his company. Now, such words felt like wasted breath carried away by the wind. With quiet acceptance, I replied simply, Very well.

I left the shrine grounds and hired a carriage to take me back. As we passed the river bend, I glimpsed Theron’s horse tied near the old oak. It was strange. Had he not claimed he could not escort me home?

When I reached the keep, a parchment posted in the gathering hall caught my eye. Isolde Mary had marked Theron in her message, declaring, A slight fever troubled me, yet he insisted on bringing me to the healer and has stayed beside me ever since. After all these years, you remain my truest protector.

Isolde Davis—his childhood mate. Years ago, she left our territory to wed a wealthy lord beyond the mountains. Last winter, fortune abandoned her husband, and after his ruin and their separation, she returned with a young cub.

In Theron’s eyes, I had always been the one who filled the space Isolde left behind. I knew this long before I accepted his proposal under the silver moon. Yet at that time, I loved him deeply and bound myself to him in oath before the Moonstone.

Once, I longed to bear his heir and strengthen our line. But the loss of my pup felt like a message from the Goddess of the Moon—perhaps a child tied to Theron would not have thrived in my womb.

After taking the healer’s draught, sleep claimed me. In the deep of night, the door creaked open.

“What did the elders reveal today?” Theron asked softly as he approached my bedside, brushing a hand over my hair.

A foreign scent clung to him—a trace of another she-wolf’s perfume carried by the wind. I turned my face away, refusing his touch in silence.

“Nothing of concern,” I answered, forcing calm into my voice. “I am well.”

Theron nodded. “The pack required my presence. Matters grew urgent.”

I did not challenge him. I rolled onto my side, closing my eyes. “Then you should wash away the day’s scent before resting.”

For a brief moment, he hesitated. He did not argue. Soon after, I heard the chamber door open and the sound of water spilling into the basin as he cleansed himself in silence.