Lyra's feet were frantic as she ran through the leaf-covered ground, and her breath was burning like cindy debris in a blur. The forest was hazy black and grey. I felt the humiliation as it weighed heavily on her, swallowing away all the air from my lungs. Rhys' words, cold and sharp, stuck in her mind: "You're weak.". You lack a wolf. ".
Every step caused pain to her body, not just in the lungs and muscles burned up.' She had been running ever since she bounded from the Silvermoon clearing, with the sounds of their celebration a distant joke.' She was unaware of her destination, only knowing that it had to be away.. Distancing herself from the sorrow, scorn, and distress of her lack of belonging.
The moonlight had once been a source of comfort, but now it seemed to betray her, casting long, dark shadows that danced around like mocking ghosts. The trees were pushed into place, their old branches creating a tunnel that was almost like smothering. She stumbled, colliding with a toothed root, inflicting pain up her leg. Her determination to overcome the situation was unwavering. I won't stop. I won't.
She barely acknowledged the cold that began to enter her bones. Her thoughts were filled with pain and confusion.. What is the reason behind the Fates' wickedness? Despite promising to show affection and friendship, why does my partner throw her away like an unsuitable object when it counts? But the pain in her chest was more than just heartache, it was deeper and worse: she had been ripped from inside by a spirit.
As the night wore on, the sounds of the forest began to shift. The gentle rustling of leaves replaced sharper snaps of branches, deeper growls, and the faint, musky scent of something wild, something predatory. Lyra, who is usually unaware of such things, felt a hint of unease. It was more than just the wind.
Behind her, a twig broke into shrieking. She froze to the bone, her heart racing. Her eyes were broad as she swung and looked into the murky blackness. Nothing. Just the shadows playing tricks. It's just the wind, Lyra. Just the wind.
Despite her feelings of despair and adrenaline rush, she managed to move forward once more. It was as if someone was being observed. She sensed the tiniest of human perceptions, sensing the faintest trace or scent of damp earth, the distant sound of an owl, and subtle changes in the air.
She heard a low, guttural growl coming from the trees to her left. There was no familiar sound from the pack. It was harsher, hungrier. Rogue.
Panic flared, cold and sharp. As she fled, she crashed into the underbrush, whacking branches against her face and hair. They were audible to her, several paws sliding on the forest floor, as they gained an advantage. The snarls grew louder, closer. She was frightened, desperate, and vulnerable, as they smelled.
This was what she wished to hear, whispered in her mind. This is how it ends. Proving Rhys right.
The woman's lungs were burning, her legs screaming. A swift, wide-ranging river was visible to her. Then, with a desperate cry came: Can I just make it to the water...
A dark shade resembling the tree's appearance. An aggressive wolf, with wicked eyes, slammed into her side.'... Her cry echoed, hitting the ground with such force that her teeth were left in agony. With the force of their teeth, a painful pain ran down her arm as they gripped against her flesh. A scream went out, a raw and scared cry.
Instantly and without warning, a dark-colored fur wave emerged from the other side of the clearing. Unlike the rogue, which was a terrifying mass of muscle and shadow, it was larger. A fierce scream came from the throat of the attacking wolf, which was then attacked. After freeing Lyra, the ruthless gangster released her and spun around to confront its formidable enemy.
Lyra, in a gasp, ran back and held her bleeding arm. With a wide open eye, she watched the fight unfold.' The new wolf was both magnificent and frightening.' Its fur was the midnight colour, its movements slick and it killed. With an ancient grace, it moved with both its intention and brutality.'". An Alpha creature was present, not just a wolf. It. The force of its presence caused the air to crackle.'
No chance was presented to the rogue.". The dark Alpha's final scream brought the fight to a close, leaving the rogue clang silent. It was all because of their fighting. Lyra was slowly and decisively gazed at by the dark Alpha.
She was motionless, breathless and unable to move. Its eyes, despite the dim light outside, were hauntingly clear with a silver hue that seemed to penetrate deeply into her soul.
She had not encountered any signs of jealousy in her interactions with Rhys, nor did she have it as a calculated, high-status person. This was primal. This was raw. This was different.
The wolf moved closer to her, then took another step. It lowered its head and sniffed the air, taking in the scent of her blood and metallic smell. The heart of Lyra sank, not just in fear, but also in an unfathomable intensity. She felt her arm swelling, but her sole focus was on the formidable animal in front of her.
Afterward, the dark wolf moved with a fluid grace that exceeded its size.' The fur swung around her, while the bones were stretched and torn, until a man came into view.' With silver piercings and dark, messy hair, she stands tall with an impossibly muscular build. He only wore trousers that were in good condition. The man's presence was a sight to behold, frightening, and highly captivating.
His gaze encircled her, contemplating her fear, exhaustion, and blood on her arm. His knelt prevented him from touching her, and instead, he used his big hand to gently pull away some hair that was sticking out of her damp face. Touching him, although not physically possible, felt like a surge of electricity.
He whispered, "You are in my territory," his voice reverberating with gravel and pitch, like stones moving through a river.
The inquiry was more of a statement than merely requesting answers. She was not able to see his eyes. "And you're hurt.".
But Lyra could only doze off, stifled by shock, worn-out, and an odd, dizzying attraction. She had no place to go, she was unable to run. Although she had been saved by this potent and risky individual, she was now entirely vulnerable to his actions. The deep, primal recognition in his silver eyes was not just about danger but about something ancient and unknown to her. Air tightened in unspoken ways as they sat.'