The sun climbed higher as I walked, its warmth settling into my skin in a way that felt new. Not uncomfortable. Not overwhelming. Just… right. The forest no longer pressed in on me like a warning. It opened and adjusted, as if accommodating my presence.
That thought should have frightened me.
Instead, it felt inevitable.
I followed the slope eastward, away from the pack lands. I could sense the border long before I reached it. Not a wall or marker, but a subtle shift in the air, like a line drawn through the earth itself. Territory. Claim. Authority.
The pack's authority.
I stopped several paces away, staring at the space between two ancient trees where nothing appeared different at all.
Crossing it would make this real.
Leaving in the night had been desperation. Crossing the border in daylight would be a decision.
I exhaled slowly and stepped forward.
Nothing struck me down. No invisible force repelled me. The forest did not recoil.
If anything, the pressure I had lived with my entire life eased.
My shoulders relaxed without permission. The tight knot that had lived beneath my ribs for as long as I could remember loosened, then unraveled completely. I staggered, caught off guard by the sudden absence of pain I had mistaken for normal.
So this was what freedom felt like.
I laughed quietly, the sound rough and unfamiliar.
The land beyond the border was wilder. Less traveled. The undergrowth grew thick and unruly, branches clawing at my clothes as I passed. It slowed me down, but I did not mind. Each step away from the pack felt like reclaiming something stolen.
By midday, hunger finally made itself known.
Not the dull ache I was used to ignoring, but a sharper, clearer sensation that demanded attention. I paused near a fallen log, scanning my surroundings. My eyes picked out details instinctively now. A cluster of berries near a sunlit patch. The faint tracks of small animals near the streambed.
I blinked.
When had I learned this?
Carefully, I approached the berries, sniffing them the way I had seen wolves do countless times. The scent was clean. Safe. I ate a few cautiously, waiting for my body to reject them.
It did not.
Energy spread through me almost immediately, steady and sustaining. I sat back against the log, chewing slowly, letting myself breathe.
For the first time in my life, eating did not feel like stealing.
A sound carried faintly on the breeze.
My head snapped up.
It was distant. Too distant to be a threat. But my body reacted anyway, muscles tightening, senses sharpening. I listened closely.
Howls.
Not from my pack.
My heart began to race.
Other packs existed beyond the borders, each with their own laws and their own hierarchies. Wandering into another's territory uninvited could be dangerous even for a wolf.
And I was… what, exactly?
Not human. Not fully wolf. Not yet.
The realization settled uneasily in my chest.
I pushed myself to my feet and moved again, angling south this time, away from the sound. I did not want to be found. Not until I understood what I was and what I could do.
As the hours passed, subtle changes continued to reveal themselves. My stamina did not wane. Scratches from thorns faded quickly. My thoughts felt clearer, sharper, as if fog had been lifted from my mind.
But with clarity came memory.
Not new memories.
Old ones.
Moments I had buried because surviving required it.
Kael's voice when he ordered punishments with a smile. Rhys's laughter echoing down the halls. Dorian's calm dismissal of my pain as an inconvenience.
And Elias.
The way he had looked at me when he thought no one was watching. The conflict he never voiced.
My chest tightened.
I had left without looking back.
Without saying anything.
The thought stirred something dangerous inside me. Not regret. Not longing.
Resolve.
They would notice my absence soon. The pack might have ignored me in life, but my disappearance would disrupt their order. Servants were replaceable, but patterns were not.
Questions would be asked.
And when they came looking, they would not find the girl they remembered.
That knowledge steadied me.
By late afternoon, clouds gathered overhead, softening the sunlight. I climbed a low ridge and paused at the top, surveying the land beyond. Forest stretched endlessly in every direction, broken only by distant hills and winding rivers.
No packhouse.
No walls.
No eyes watching.
I sank down onto the grass, exhaustion finally brushing against the edges of my awareness. Not physical. Emotional. The weight of change settling into place.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I admitted aloud.
The wind stirred gently, carrying the scent of rain.
But for once, uncertainty did not feel like failure.
It felt like possibility.
As the first drops fell, I lay back against the earth and closed my eyes. The ground felt solid beneath me, grounding in a way the stone floors of the pack house never had.
Somewhere far behind me, across borders and bloodlines, the pack would be stirring. They would feel the imbalance, the absence of something they had never valued until it was gone.
They would not know why.
Not yet.
Rain soaked into my clothes, cool and cleansing. I welcomed it, letting it wash away the last traces of the life I had left behind.
When I rose again, night was approaching.
I turned my face toward the darkening sky, breathing in deeply.
Whatever I was becoming, whatever the Moon Goddess had awakened within me, one truth was clear.
I was no longer waiting to be chosen.
And the world would have to adjust to that.