The lair buzzed with unusual activity. The faint light of dawn seeped into the forest, casting long shadows over the trees as the wolf pack hurried to gather supplies. The air felt different, thick with an unspoken urgency that had everyone moving faster than usual. Anna, barely awake, was already on her feet, drawn to the commotion.
Renard's voice echoed through the corridors, sharp and commanding. "We leave immediately. Gather everything necessary—healing supplies, water, bandages. No delays."
Anna's heart skipped at his tone. She tightened the bandages on her hands, the cuts from the previous day still fresh and throbbing, then rushed to help. The usual tasks of preparing satchels and organizing supplies were second nature to her by now, but something about the hurried pace made her uneasy.
"What's happening?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling as she handed Renard a bundle of bandages.
He didn't look at her, his focus elsewhere. "The Alpha of the Southern Ridge is injured," he replied curtly. "We need to get there before it's too late."
The name struck her as familiar. The Southern Ridge. It was one of the largest and most important wolf territories, known for its powerful Alpha, a long-time ally of the Animal King himself.
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Anna followed Renard and his comrades into the forest, carrying the bulk of the supplies in her arms. The morning air was sharp and cold, biting at her skin as she struggled to keep up with their pace. Her legs ached from the strain of the previous days, and the weight of the supplies only added to her exhaustion, but she didn't complain.
The path they took was treacherous, winding through dense undergrowth and across rocky slopes. Renard led the way, his movements swift and determined, while his comrades kept a wary eye on the surroundings. Anna lagged behind, her breaths coming in short, labored gasps, but she forced herself onward.
As they neared the Southern Ridge, the tension among the group was palpable. Anna could feel their eyes on her, their distrust as heavy as the supplies she carried. She caught snippets of whispered conversations—words like "liability" and "unreliable" cutting through the crisp morning air.
"Why is she even here?" one of them muttered, loud enough for Anna to hear.
"She'll just get in the way," another replied.
Anna lowered her gaze, pretending she hadn't heard, and adjusted the strap of the satchel on her shoulder. Despite their hostility, she kept moving, determined to prove her worth.
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The terrain grew steeper and more rugged as they approached the Southern Ridge. The howls of wolves echoed in the distance, a haunting sound that sent shivers down Anna's spine. The closer they got, the more oppressive the atmosphere became.
Renard stopped abruptly, raising a hand to signal the group. He turned to Anna, his expression unreadable. "Stay close," he said, his tone clipped.
Anna nodded, clutching the supplies tightly.
When they finally reached the edge of the Southern Ridge, the sight before them was grim. Wolves of all sizes and colors stood guard, their hackles raised and their eyes gleaming with hostility. The Alpha's den lay nestled in the heart of the territory, its entrance flanked by massive wolves who growled low as the group approached.
Renard stepped forward; his posture confident. "We're here to help," he announced.
The largest of the guards stepped forward, its scarred muzzle pulling back in a snarl. "You're welcome," it growled, its voice a low rumble, "but she is not." Its glowing eyes fixed on Anna, and the tension in the air thickened.
Renard's gaze flicked to Anna, then back to the wolves. "She's carrying the supplies," he said firmly. "Let her through."
The wolf hesitated, its growl deepening, but finally stepped aside. Anna followed cautiously, her heart pounding as she felt dozens of hostile eyes watching her every move.
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Inside the den, the scene was chaotic. The Alpha lay sprawled on a bed of moss and leaves, his breathing shallow and labored. His fur was matted with blood, the deep gashes along his side seeping crimson into the earth.
Renard and his comrades sprang into action, setting up a makeshift area to treat the wounds. Anna placed the supplies down carefully, her hands trembling as she worked to organize the bandages and herbs.
The Alpha's eyes opened briefly, his golden gaze settling on Anna. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but he was too weak to do more than that.
"She shouldn't be here," one of Renard's comrades muttered under their breath.
Anna tried to ignore them, focusing instead on grinding herbs into a paste. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of crushed plants.
As the group worked to stabilize the Alpha, a sense of foreboding hung over Anna like a dark cloud. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.
Renard's voice broke through her thoughts. "Anna, stay here and keep preparing the poultices. We'll need them soon."
She nodded, her hands working mechanically as her mind raced. The hostility of the wolves, the tension in Renard's voice, the weight of the Alpha's gaze—it all felt like a storm waiting to break.
And somewhere deep inside, Anna knew that storm would be aimed squarely at her.
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Anna's hands trembled as she tightened the final stitch on the Alpha's side. The wound had been deep, and sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes as she focused on her work. The den was silent except for the shallow breaths of the injured Alpha and the murmured instructions from Renard's comrades. Her fingers ached from hours of work, but Anna didn't stop. She didn't dare.
Finally, with a deep, shaky breath, she tied off the last thread and sat back on her knees. Her clothes clung to her from the sweat, and her arms were streaked with dirt and blood. The Alpha's labored breathing had evened out, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.
"It's done," she whispered, though no one acknowledged her.
She stepped outside the den into the cool night air. The scent of pine and earth mingled with the lingering metallic tang of blood. Her legs felt like lead as she moved to sit on a fallen log nearby, desperate for a moment to gather herself.
That was when she felt it—the searing, unbearable pain blossoming across her torso. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and she doubled over, clutching at her side. Beneath her tattered clothing, the flesh wounds appeared as if they had always been there. Blood seeped through her shirt, and the pain was so intense that she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.
"What...?" she whispered, her voice weak and trembling. She didn't understand. How had she been injured? She hadn't been near the battle.
The sound of a triumphant howl cut through the night, pulling her from her thoughts. The wolves around the den erupted into cheers and celebratory cries.
"The Alpha is healed!" one of Renard's comrades exclaimed, his voice ringing with relief and joy.
Anna managed a faint smile despite the throbbing pain coursing through her body. The sight of the Alpha standing tall again filled her with an unexpected warmth. She had helped. She had made a difference. But as the wolves celebrated, none of them even glanced in her direction.
No one thanked her.
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As the jubilation settled, another sound pierced the forest—a soft, mournful howl, barely audible over the noise. It was fragile and full of desperation, the kind of sound that struck at the heart. The cheering wolves fell silent, their ears perking toward the source.
"It's a cub," Renard said, his voice sharp with urgency. Without a word, he and the Alpha darted into the forest, their movements swift and purposeful.
Renard glanced back once and signaled for Anna to follow. Despite the pain coursing through her body and the blood soaking into her clothing, she forced herself to her feet. Each step was agony, but she didn't stop.
The journey through the dense woods was harrowing. Branches snagged her already tattered clothing, and her legs felt like they would give out at any moment. Renard moved quickly, his form a shadowy blur ahead of her.
"Wait," she murmured, her voice too faint to reach him. She stumbled but caught herself, determined to keep up.
They reached a small clearing, where the moonlight bathed the scene in a pale glow. A tiny wolf cub stood near the base of an ancient oak, its head tilted back as it howled again. Beside the cub lay a girl with long, flowing red hair, her form almost blending with the crimson hooded cloak she wore.
Renard and the Alpha froze, their eyes widening in unison. The cub turned to them, its tiny body trembling as it barked and growled, its voice frantic and urgent.
Anna arrived moments later, collapsing against a nearby tree to catch her breath. Her vision swam, and her body screamed for rest, but she forced herself to take in the scene before her.
"What's going on?" she managed to ask, her voice weak and raspy.
Renard ignored her. His gaze was fixed on the cub, his expression unreadable.
The Alpha stepped closer to the cub, his massive frame lowering to meet its tiny face. The cub barked again, its tone pleading.
"She... she healed me," Renard translated softly, his voice carrying a note of awe. He glanced at the girl on the ground. "The cub says the girl—Red—was tending to the injured animals in the forest. When the cub's leg healed, she collapsed."
The Alpha growled low in his throat, his gaze shifting between Red and Anna.
Anna blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. Her mind was foggy from exhaustion and pain, but she could feel the shift in the air.
Renard stepped closer to Red, crouching down to study her pale face and the dried blood on her hands. "She passed out when the cub's wounds disappeared…" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Anna took a hesitant step forward. "Is she okay? Can I—"
"Stop," Renard said sharply, cutting her off. He stood abruptly, his eyes locking onto hers. For the first time since they had met, there was no warmth in his gaze—only suspicion and something colder, harder.
Anna's stomach twisted.
Renard turned to the Alpha. "It's her," he said, his voice firm. "This is the one we've been looking for."
His words hung in the air like a death knell.
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Anna stared at Renard, her mind reeling. She didn't understand what he meant, but the weight of his words pressed down on her like a suffocating blanket.
The Alpha's golden eyes bore into her, and the distrust she had felt from the wolves before now seemed to take on a sharper edge.
Renard turned back to Red, his expression softening as he knelt beside her. "She's the one," he repeated, his tone almost reverent now.
The realization hit Anna like a physical blow. Whatever fragile trust she thought she had built with Renard was crumbling before her eyes. And in its place was something far worse.
She took a shaky step back, the pain in her chest no longer just physical.
Renard didn't notice. His attention was wholly on Red now, his voice low as he spoke to the unconscious girl. "We'll take you back to safety," he murmured. "You'll be cared for. Protected."
Anna's breath caught. Protected.
And in that moment, Anna felt confused. But deep in her soul, she felt a twinkle of fear started to creep in.
For some reason, her hands were shaking. She clasped them. She was scared.