A sharp cry cut through the silence of the night, jolting Tristan from his restless sleep.
"Who could be screaming at this hour?" he wondered, instinctively reaching for the dagger under his pillow. Pushing aside the animal hide that covered his doorway, he stepped out into the biting cold. His breath misted in the frigid air, the soft crunch of snow beneath his worn boots the only sound until he let out a low whistle.
At first, only the Alpha came—a male Luna wolf, its silver-white fur shimmering under the moonlight, eyes alert and fangs gleaming like steel. The rest of the pack had scattered, their paw prints etched into the snow like a trail of ghosts leading deeper into the forest.
Without a word, Tristan bolted after the trail, the Alpha at his side.
They moved quickly, silently, until they reached the scene of carnage. A shattered carriage, its once-pristine royal crest marred by blood and snow. The stench of death hung in the air. Tristan's gaze swept over the fallen bodies of guards, their hands still gripping weapons in vain. But it wasn't the dead that held his attention—it was the wolves, circled around a lone figure on the ground.
He knelt beside the girl, his hand brushing against her cold skin as he examined the arrow lodged in her thigh. The Alpha growled low, and the other wolves immediately backed away, sensing their leader's command.
Tristan took her into his arms, the weight of her frail body pressing against him. Her hair, damp with melting snow, brushed against his cheek as he stood. With the Alpha and the rest of the pack following, he headed back to his isolated hut, feeling the weight of responsibility heavier with each step.
Back at the hut, he laid the girl on a bench, her pale face barely visible in the dim light. Her breathing was shallow but steady. Tristan's eyes narrowed as he carefully examined the arrowhead. Poison. He cursed under his breath, hurrying to his small chest of remedies.
Pulling out a vial of thick, amber liquid, he poured a single drop into a bowl of water, watching the potion mix and swirl. He cleaned the wound with a damp cloth, wincing as her body involuntarily twitched. Tristan worked quickly, sealing the wound with a makeshift bandage before standing back. She was safe—at least for now.
Leaving the girl in the care of his wolf pack, he ventured back to the wreckage. The air was colder here, still thick with death. Amidst the debris, he found the attacker—a man slumped over the remains of the carriage, blood pooling around his arm, where a knife had been firmly planted.
"Still alive," Tristan muttered, pulling the man's limp body from the carriage and tying him to a nearby tree. His hands moved swiftly, checking the man's belongings and finding two more poisoned arrows. A hiss escaped his lips. Whoever this man worked for had powerful intentions.
The princess woke with a gasp, her vision swimming as she struggled to focus on her surroundings. The sight of wolves, large and ominous, sitting outside the window sent a chill down her spine. Her heart pounded in her chest, panic rising as she tried to move, only to collapse in pain.
She pressed a hand to her thigh, feeling the rough bandage beneath her patched dress. Confusion swept over her. *Where am I? Who brought me here?* She glanced down at her feet—bare, her royal heels missing. Instinctively, her fingers reached for her head, realizing her tiara was gone too.
Before she could gather her thoughts, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. The wolves outside began to howl, their eerie voices sending shivers down her spine. The door creaked open, revealing a tall figure standing in the doorway.
Tristan stepped inside, the Alpha wolf beside him, the princess's tiara and heels clutched in its powerful jaws. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the imposing man and the fearsome beast.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sharp with fear and anger. "Why am I here? What do you want from me?"
Tristan raised an eyebrow, impressed by her defiance despite her weakened state. "You're mistaken," he said calmly, his voice deep and steady. "I found you unconscious in the forest. You were injured. I mean no harm, my lady."
The Alpha dropped her belongings at her feet and bowed its head slightly, an act of submission that seemed almost surreal coming from such a fearsome creature. The princess stared at them, uncertain whether to trust their gesture.
Tristan stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "You were poisoned," he added, softening his tone. "I did what I could to save you. You're safe now."
Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him from head to toe, but she remained silent. Tristan took that as a sign to continue. He moved into the small adjoining room, returning moments later with a steaming cup of herbal tea. The scent of wild herbs filled the air.
"What is that?" she asked, eyeing the cup with suspicion.
"Herbal tea. It'll help counter the poison."
"I don't want it," she said flatly, pushing the cup away. "I'm not drinking something I don't trust."
Tristan sighed, but didn't press the matter. "Suit yourself," he said, taking the cup away. He placed a hand on the Alpha's head, signaling it to remain calm as the princess reached out, tentatively stroking its fur.
The wolf's muscles tensed beneath her touch, but it didn't move, its loyalty to Tristan stronger than its annoyance. As her fingers brushed through the soft fur, Tristan watched from a distance, sensing the delicate balance of fear and curiosity in her.
A short while later, Tristan reappeared with a golden duvet, one that bore the crest of a powerful kingdom. The princess's eyes widened as she recognized it.
"Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice tight with disbelief. "That's royal property."
"It's all I have left of my family," he replied quietly, his eyes downcast.
Her expression softened, but she didn't push further. Tristan spread the duvet over the bench, adding a pillow from her carriage. Without warning, he gently lifted her once again, laying her on the soft fabric.
"Should I close the window?" he asked, his voice a murmur.
"Yes," she whispered, watching him with a mix of suspicion and intrigue as he shut the window. The wolves outside howled into the night, their voices echoing through the trees.
Tristan left her with a quiet nod, retreating to his own room. The princess, now alone with her thoughts, couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this man than met the eye. Could he really be the heir to the Lutcharin kingdom, the one spoken of in the prophecy? The thought lingered as her eyes grew heavy, and soon, sleep claimed her.