Chapter 5 Footsteps in the snow

The morning was cold and quiet. Thin sunlight spread across the trees as Lyra stepped outside with a small bundle of herbs. Her fingers felt stiff from the cold, but her mind was restless. She could not shake the voice of the man she had met in the forest.

Luna. He had called her Luna. That word was not supposed to follow her here. It was a name tied to a past she had left behind.

She looked back at the cabin. Inside, Isla was still asleep. Her little chest rose and fell with soft breaths, the blanket tucked under her chin. Lyra wished she could keep her like that forever, safe and untouched by the world beyond these woods.

But the world was already closing in.

By midday, the healer arrived. An old woman with sharp eyes and a slow walk, she carried a basket of tools and medicines.

"How is the child?" the woman asked as she stepped in.

"Better," Lyra said with a small smile. "The fever is down."

The healer placed her hand on Isla's forehead and nodded. "She is strong. Keep her warm and rested. Children sometimes feel the moon's pull in their blood. It will pass."

Lyra said nothing. She only hoped the woman was right.

After the healer left, Lyra sat by the window, staring out at the white forest. Her fingers traced the edge of the window frame, her mind far away. Damien was out there. Somewhere. Watching or waiting. And now another pack had shown interest.

She remembered the scarred man's smile. It had not been a friendly one.

That night, the wind rose. The trees whispered against each other, their branches heavy with snow. Lyra lay awake on the small bed beside Isla, listening to the forest. Every sound made her heart jump.

She thought of the festival again. The night everything had begun. Damien's hand in hers. His voice, low and steady, asking her to trust him. The way the moon seemed brighter that night, as if it had chosen them.

She had trusted him. For one night.

And then she had run.

Her hand moved to Isla's hair, soft and warm under her fingers. "I did it for you," she whispered. "I would do it again."

Near midnight, a faint noise reached her ears. A soft crunch in the snow. Slow. Careful.

Lyra's body went still. She rose quietly, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders, and moved to the window.

There. Between the trees. A shape moved like a shadow.

Her pulse quickened. It was not the scarred man this time. The figure was broader, taller, and it moved with a kind of silent strength that she knew too well.

Damien.

She stepped back from the window, her breath quick. He was getting closer.

In the forest, Damien crouched near the edge of the clearing. The cabin stood in the soft glow of the moon, smoke curling from the chimney. He could see the faint outline of a figure inside, moving near the window.

His jaw tightened.

"She is here," he said to his guard, who stood a few paces behind.

"What is the plan, Alpha?" the man asked.

"Not tonight," Damien said quietly. "She will feel the net closing around her soon enough. We do not strike a frightened wolf. We wait until she steps forward."

The guard nodded and slipped away.

Damien stayed a moment longer, his eyes fixed on the small home. He could feel the pull again, stronger than before. Something was there. Something he could not yet see, but his wolf sensed it with sharp hunger.

Back inside, Lyra locked the door and pressed her back against it. Her hands shook as she held the latch tight.

She had no more time. He would not stop. And if the rival pack found her first, it would be worse.

She walked to Isla's bedside and watched her sleep. The child stirred slightly, whispering something in her dreams. Lyra bent close and caught the faint words.

"He is coming."

The same words as before.

Lyra closed her eyes. Tomorrow, she would have to decide;stay and face Damien, or run again before the forest filled with wolves.

Neither choice felt safe anymore.