Chapter 4

The next few weeks fell into a quiet rhythm. I spent my days tending to the cougar's wound and foraging in the forest. I found berries, edible roots, and sweet nuts. I set simple snares, using the skills I' d learned to feed my family, and managed to catch rabbits and squirrels. The cougar, who I had started to think of as Caleb in my mind, was a silent and watchful companion.

His leg healed slowly but steadily. The swelling went down, the angry redness faded, and new, healthy skin began to form over the gash. As he regained his strength, he started hunting again. He would disappear for hours and return with a deer or a wild boar slung over his powerful shoulders, dropping it at the mouth of the cave. He always let me eat first, a gesture of respect that touched me deeply.

At night, the forest came alive with sounds that used to terrify me. But now, I felt safe. I would sleep curled against his warm, massive body, his steady breathing a comforting lullaby. His presence was a solid, protective wall against the dangers of the wilderness. He never harmed me, never showed any aggression. There was a gentleness in him that belied his fearsome appearance.

One afternoon, I returned to the cave with a basket full of late-autumn berries. But the cougar wasn't there. In his place, a man was waiting for me.

He was leaning against the cave wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He had sandy-blond hair that fell across his forehead and the most intense golden eyes I had ever seen. They were the same eyes as the cougar. On top of his head, a pair of tawny cougar ears twitched, alert and listening. He was tall and powerfully built, dressed in worn leather pants and a simple tunic that did little to hide the muscles of his arms and shoulders. The scars I had seen on the cougar's body were visible on his human skin, a map of a hard-fought life.

"You're back," he said. His voice was a low rumble, the same sound I had grown so accustomed to.

I stopped, my heart skipping a beat. I knew, without a doubt, who he was.

He pushed himself off the wall and took a step toward me. He moved with a predator's grace, silent and sure-footed.

"My name is Caleb Blakely," he said, his golden eyes fixed on mine. "Thank you for saving my life."

Caleb. I had guessed his name right.

He explained that he had been cast out from the community as a child. He was born "unreadable," his totem spirit so faint that the council couldn't assign him a rank. In their eyes, he was a soulless anomaly, a blank, a genetic dead end. To be unreadable was to be nothing, a disgrace worse than being a Delta. He had been forced to survive on his own in these dangerous lands since he was a boy.

Once he was fully healed, Caleb proved to be an incredible hunter and provider. He knew the forest like the back of his hand. Together, we worked to prepare for the coming winter. We smoked meat, dried fruits and herbs, and reinforced the cave, making it a warm and secure home. We worked in a comfortable silence, a team bound by circumstance and a growing, unspoken affection.

One evening, as we sat by the fire, I looked at him, at the sheer power he possessed. "You're so strong, Caleb," I said quietly. "You must be a Beta-rank, at least."

A shadow passed over his face. He looked away, the firelight flickering in his pained eyes. "I don't have a rank, Gabby. That's why they threw me out. I'm nothing."

The word "nothing" hung in the air between us, heavy and sad. I felt a sharp pang of sympathy for this powerful, gentle man, who had been judged and discarded by the very people who should have protected him. He had been so utterly alone.

I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. His skin was warm.

"Well," I said softly, my voice firm. "You're not alone anymore."

He looked at me then, a world of gratitude and surprise in his golden eyes. And in that moment, I knew I had found something in this wilderness far more valuable than the status and respect I had lost. I had found a home.