Night fell gently, as if the world were afraid to disturb me.
The rain faded to a soft mist, clinging to leaves and earth alike. I moved through it without urgency, guided by instinct rather than fear. The forest no longer felt like a maze. It felt like a conversation, one I was only beginning to understand.
I found shelter beneath a cluster of ancient pines whose roots rose high from the ground, forming a natural hollow. I slipped into the space and settled there, pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders. The air smelled of resin and wet bark, grounding and familiar in a way nothing ever had before.
Sleep did not come easily.
Every time I closed my eyes, sensations rose to the surface. The echo of thunder in my bones. The warmth that still pulsed faintly beneath my skin. The certainty that something vast had awakened and was now waiting for me to catch up.
I pressed my palm to the earth and breathed slowly.
"You didn't explain," I whispered to the silence. "You changed everything and said nothing."
The forest did not answer.
But it listened.
I slept eventually, drifting into shallow dreams filled with movement rather than images. Running without feet touching the ground. Moonlight stretching endlessly ahead. A presence just beyond reach, never seen, never named.
When dawn came, it arrived with sound.
Birdsong burst through the trees, sharp and bright. My eyes snapped open instantly, body alert before thought followed. I sat up, heart steady, senses wide.
Too wide.
I could hear the flutter of wings overhead, the skitter of something small retreating through brush, the distant rush of water far to the north. It all layered together without overwhelming me, like my mind had finally learned how to sort the noise.
I rose slowly, testing myself again.
Still strong.
Still whole.
The realization settled uneasily. Power was not something I had ever been allowed to have. Strength had always belonged to others. To those who could afford to be careless.
I had survived by being invisible.
That would not work anymore.
I stepped out from the pines and stretched, the movement fluid and effortless. My body responded instantly, muscles coiling and releasing with unfamiliar grace. I caught myself smiling faintly before the emotion could be crushed out of habit.
The smile felt dangerous.
I moved on, following the slope downward toward a narrow valley. The land dipped here, forming a natural corridor between ridges. Scents carried differently, swirling rather than dispersing, and I slowed instinctively, paying attention.
Something had passed through recently.
Not prey.
Wolves.
My pulse quickened, not with fear, but awareness.
I crouched low, examining the ground. Tracks marked the damp earth, large and confident. A patrol, most likely. Not from my pack. The gait was wrong. The spacing unfamiliar.
I straightened, tension winding through me.
I did not want to be found.
Not yet.
I veered off the path, climbing the ridge instead. The ascent was steep, loose stone shifting beneath my boots. I climbed anyway, fingers finding holds easily, balance never faltering. When I reached the top, I paused to catch my breath out of habit.
I did not need to.
The valley spread below me, empty now. The patrol had moved on.
Relief washed through me, followed by something sharper.
Curiosity.
How many packs existed beyond the borders I had never been allowed to cross? How many laws, how many hierarchies, how many stories had I been denied simply because I was deemed unworthy of them?
Anger stirred then. Not explosive. Not reckless.
Controlled.
I welcomed it.
Anger meant I cared enough to want more.
By midday, the land changed again. Trees thinned, giving way to open grassland dotted with low shrubs and wildflowers. The sky stretched wide overhead, clouds drifting lazily across blue. The openness made me uneasy at first. There was nowhere to hide here.
Then I realized I did not feel exposed.
I felt… present.
I walked until the sun sat high overhead, warmth pressing against my skin. Hunger returned, sharper than before. I scanned the grassland carefully, senses reaching outward.
There.
Movement near a cluster of rocks.
I froze, crouching slowly as a hare darted into view. My heart began to race, instincts surging forward with startling clarity. I knew the distance. The speed. The exact moment to move.
The realization horrified me.
I forced myself to breathe.
"No," I whispered. "Not like this."
I backed away slowly, refusing the pull in my veins. Hunting came naturally to wolves. I was not ready to accept how naturally it came to me.
Instead, I found roots and berries along the edge of the field, gathering enough to quiet the ache in my stomach. It was not satisfying, but it was enough.
As I ate, memories crept back in.
The pack's dining hall. Meat piled high on platters. Laughter and warmth I had never been invited to share. Scraps pushed toward me when no one was watching.
I chewed slowly, jaw tightening.
They would notice soon.
A servant gone missing could be ignored for a day. Two, maybe. But routines would break. Tasks left undone. Someone would be inconvenienced.
And inconvenience always led to questions.
I rose and wiped my hands against my cloak.
I could not stay near the border.
Not when my absence would draw attention.
I turned west, toward deeper wilderness, toward lands marked on no map I had ever seen. Each step away felt like shedding another layer of the girl I had been forced to be.
As evening approached, the sky darkened again, clouds gathering thick and low. A storm threatened, heavy with rain. I found shelter beneath a rocky overhang just as the first drops began to fall.
Lightning flickered in the distance, distant and muted.
The sight made my chest tighten.
Memories of the temple surged unbidden. The way the sky had split open. The way my blood had awakened something ancient and patient.
I hugged my knees to my chest and stared out at the rain.
"What do you want from me?" I asked quietly.
The question echoed uselessly.
Power without guidance was dangerous. I knew that instinctively. Packs existed to control it, to shape it. But the pack I had known had used power as a weapon, not a responsibility.
I would not become that.
The storm passed slowly, leaving the air cool and clean. Night crept in behind it, soft and deliberate. I stood and stepped out into the open again, letting the darkness settle around me.
Stars emerged one by one.
I tilted my head back, studying them. I had never had the leisure to do this before. Nights had always been for work, for fear, for silence.
Now they felt like possibility.
"I won't waste this," I said aloud.
The promise felt real.
As I walked beneath the stars, something shifted deep within me. Not another awakening. Not yet.
But awareness.
I was not alone in this world.
Others would sense what I had become, sooner or later. Some would fear it. Some would want it. Some would try to control it.
I squared my shoulders and kept moving.
Let them come.
I was done shrinking.
And whatever the Moon Goddess had chosen me for, I would meet it on my feet, not on my knees.