Torn Between Two Wolves

Days passed like fading seasons beneath the shifting moon. After that night, Theron did not return to our den for several days, and I did not summon him through mindlink nor send a messenger to seek him. The silence between us felt no longer heavy—only distant.

On the third day, his thoughts brushed mine briefly. He claimed he was journeying with the pack to settle trade matters beyond our territory and even sent word of his whereabouts through a traveling runner.

Very well. Be safe, I replied through the bond. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped me after I closed the link.

Not long after, I saw Isolde’s message displayed upon the communal notice board. Her words were meant for all to see: My first outing in many moons. I never expected to crave spun sugar so dearly! Someone insisted on buying it for me.

The carved image beside it showed Theron’s hand holding the sweet. His wedding ring—our oath band forged in silver and blessed with moonwater—still rested on his finger. The location she marked matched the place he had claimed to be.

The ring upon my own hand burned like a coal from the sacred fire. Without hesitation, I removed it and placed it inside the wooden chest. Since that day, I buried myself in my duties at the healer’s hut and within the pack’s records. Work became my refuge, a shield against the rising tide within my chest. The question of when Theron would return faded into irrelevance, swallowed by the rhythm of my tasks.

Then, unexpectedly, he arrived one evening after my shift ended. His horse stood outside the healer’s grounds, its breath visible in the cool air.

“Why are you here?” I asked softly, exhaustion weighing on my voice.

“Have you forgotten?” he replied as he dismounted and offered his arm. “This is the night of our union anniversary.”

“Oh,” I murmured. “Forgive me. My thoughts have been occupied, and I lost track.”

He looked at me in disbelief. “You once treasured this day above all else. How could it slip from your mind?”

It was true. In earlier years, I prepared feasts with herbs and game, wove garlands of wildflowers, and lit candles in devotion to our bond. I wished only to see joy in his eyes. Yet those efforts were later dismissed as excessive, even shameful. I still recalled the night I arranged a surprise gathering at the feast hall. He whispered sharply, “Mira, you draw too much attention. The pack is watching. This is uncomfortable.”

He escorted me away before the elders and guests, and that was the moment something inside me dimmed.

“Come,” he said now, guiding me toward his horse. “Let us share a meal to mark the night.”

As we rode, silence stretched between us like a winter field. His eyes kept drifting toward me, searching for traces of the woman I used to be.

“Are you troubled?” he finally asked.

“No,” I answered.

“No?” His brow tightened. “Then why do you seem distant? I came to honor our bond. Should that not be enough?”

“I harbor no anger.”

He exhaled sharply. “Very well. I swear upon the Moonstone, I will sever ties with Isolde entirely. Is that what you desire?”

I met his gaze without emotion. Did he believe vows spoken in haste could mend months of secrecy and half-truths?

“Are you satisfied now?” he asked.

I offered no reply. The remainder of the journey passed in silence until we reached a grand hall prepared for celebration. Theron had arranged candles, wildflower wreaths, and a reserved chamber for our meal. The scene appeared romantic, drawing admiring glances from nearby clansfolk.

Before I could open the wrapped token he placed before me, his runner arrived with urgent news.

“Fever?” he asked into the mindlink. “Does the child require herbs? I cannot leave at this moment—what? The fever is high? Very well. I will come.”

He ended the link and turned to me, unease shadowing his features. “It is Isolde. Her cub burns with illness. I must go.”

A knot tightened in my throat, yet I forced calm into my voice. “Go. The child comes first.”

He hesitated, studying my expression as though searching for resistance.

“Wait here. I will return for you,” he said, grabbing his cloak before departing in haste.

I remained alone before the untouched feast. Outside, rain began to fall, tapping against the stone walls like distant drumbeats. The sound mirrored something inside me—steady, subdued, unwept.

After finishing the meal in quiet, I left the hall. A passing carriage offered me a ride back to the den, though I had no covering against the rain. The droplets chilled my skin as I walked the final stretch under the darkening sky.

When I reached home, I bathed and changed into dry furs. Later, I saw another announcement posted through the pack messenger board. It showed Theron inside Isolde’s dwelling, standing beside her and the child. Warm lamplight filled the chamber, glowing softly around them—an intimate brightness that contrasted sharply with the cold rain that had followed me home.

The sight did not break me. It only confirmed what the moon had already whispered to my heart.