The pack market was alive with activity as Sarah walked through the vibrant stalls, weaving in and out of the crowd with ease. The sweet scent of baked bread, fresh herbs, and spices filled the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of wolves and the distant hum of laughter. The atmosphere was a mixture of warmth and excitement, with traders shouting out their wares and children running through the aisles, laughing and playing as they weaved between the adults. It was a place where the pack came together, a place that felt like home to Sarah, despite the lingering ache that had settled in her heart over the past few months.
The market was a large, open area near the center of the pack's territory, a spot where vendors from various parts of the pack would come to sell their goods.
Bright cloths draped over wooden tables, their colors a lively contrast to the greens and browns of the surrounding forest. Stalls were stacked with all sorts of produce: baskets of fruits, barrels of vegetables, jars of homemade jams and pickles, and tables laden with freshly cut meats. There were wooden carvings, delicate jewelry, bundles of fragrant dried flowers, and much more. The market was a sensory overload, each stall offering something unique and special to those who took the time to stop and appreciate it.
Sarah carried a basket filled with neatly folded knitted garments her mother had spent hours creating. Soft scarves, gloves, and hats each piece was crafted with care, the yarns woven together in intricate patterns that spoke of her mother's love and patience. Sarah had volunteered to sell them at the market today. It was something small she could do to help out her family, and the idea of bringing in a little extra money lifted her spirits, if only slightly. Her mother, ever the perfectionist, had even suggested a small discount to attract customers, and Sarah had happily agreed, though it did little to ease the emptiness that gnawed at her heart.
As she moved through the market, Sarah couldn't help but notice the familiar faces of her packmates. There was John, the baker, setting out a fresh batch of bread loaves with a smile on his face as a group of children clamored around him, eager for a piece. Next to him, Grace was selling bundles of fresh rosemary and thyme, the rich aroma of the herbs cutting through the other smells in the air. Sarah waved at them both, offering a smile as she passed by, but there was a heaviness in her chest that made her feel distant. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy being here—it was just that, lately, everything seemed to remind her of what she lacked. The thing that everyone else had but she didn't: a mate.
"Good morning, Sarah!" A friendly voice called from behind her. Sarah turned to see Carol, one of the older women of the pack who ran a small stall selling handmade jewelry. Carol was a tall, lean woman with graying hair that was pulled back into a loose bun, and her hands were covered in rings made of polished stones and silver. Sarah smiled, happy for the brief distraction from her own thoughts.
"Morning, Carol. How are you today?" Sarah asked, her voice light and friendly despite the underlying sadness that still clung to her.
"Oh, I'm doing well. But you look a bit brighter today, child," Carol remarked, her eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth. "I'm glad to see you out and about. You've been looking a little too serious lately."
Sarah smiled softly. "I guess I've just been preoccupied. Things at home are busy, you know."
Carol's smile faded a little, and she nodded knowingly. "You've been working hard. Helping your mother, helping with the younger wolves… You always have your heart in the right place, Sarah. You're a good daughter."
The compliment warmed Sarah's heart. She loved her mother deeply, and she knew her mother was proud of her, but there was always a part of Sarah that felt as if something was missing. Her mother had a mate her father someone who she had shared a bond with all her life. But Sarah… Sarah had been waiting. Waiting for something she couldn't quite explain. She longed for that connection, the same one that everyone else in her pack seemed to have found.
Carol, sensing the subtle shift in Sarah's mood, leaned in slightly. "You know, child, sometimes these things take time. You've got a good heart. Your mate will come when the time is right."
Sarah nodded, though her heart felt heavy with doubt. She had been patient. More patient than she had ever been in her life. But as the days turned into weeks, and then months, the loneliness began to settle in deeper. There were moments when she felt as if she had been forgotten by fate, by the universe, or perhaps by her mate himself.
"Thank you, Carol. I hope so," Sarah said quietly, trying to push the uncertainty from her thoughts.
"I'll see you later then," Carol replied, giving Sarah a soft, encouraging pat on the arm before turning back to her stall.
Sarah continued down the row of booths, trying to focus on the task at hand. She approached the stall where her mother's knitted goods were being sold. It was a modest table, but it was well-organized. There were scarves and gloves in all colors, from soft pastels to deep, rich tones, and Sarah had placed a small wooden sign next to the pile that read Handmade by Sarah's Mother. Discount Today Only! It was a simple sign, but it seemed to catch the eye of passersby.
As she stood behind the stall, Sarah's eyes wandered over the bustling market. The bright, eager faces of young mates who had recently mated caught her attention. They walked with their heads held high, their hands intertwined, their laughter light and carefree. Sarah felt a pang of envy, though she quickly masked it with a forced smile. She wasn't bitter, not really. She was happy for them. But deep down, a small part of her longed for the same thing: someone to share her life with, someone to call her own.
A couple of young wolves came to the stall, their eyes glancing over the knitted scarves and gloves. The girl, with her golden curls and bright blue eyes, leaned in, inspecting the vibrant reds and purples. The boy beside her, tall with dark hair and an easy grin, spoke to Sarah.
"Noticed you don't have many people buying today, huh?" he said, his tone teasing.
Sarah gave a tight-lipped smile, trying to ignore the sharpness in her chest. "It's been slow, but things usually pick up later in the day."
The girl laughed lightly, nudging her mate. "Guess we could give you some advice, then. Maybe you should take those discounts down. Mates never go for the cheap stuff." She gave Sarah a wink.
Sarah's heart sank. It wasn't the first time she had encountered teasing from younger mates, but it always felt like a sharp reminder of what she didn't have. The connection. The bond. The one thing that everyone else seemed to have except for her.
"Thanks, but I'll stick with the discount," Sarah replied softly, though the weight of her words felt heavier than she wanted to admit.
The young couple moved off, laughing and holding hands, and Sarah's gaze followed them for a moment longer than she intended. She tried to shake the sadness that lingered, but it was hard. Harder than she liked to admit.
As Sarah moved around the market, helping pack up her mother's remaining garments, the rest of the day passed in a blur. Her mind was distant, lost in thoughts she didn't want to have. How long had it been since her shifting ceremony? Weeks? Months? She couldn't remember anymore. It didn't matter. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly for her, with no answers, no signs. Nothing.
When the market finally began to wind down, the air cooling with the late afternoon breeze, Sarah realized she hadn't been paying attention to anything around her. Her hands mechanically folded scarves, stacking them back into the basket, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She wasn't even sure how much money had been made today. Her focus was fractured, her heart heavy, and her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
Finally, with the last scarf packed away, she decided it was time to get back home.
The market had been good for business, but her heart wasn't in it. The weight in her chest is to heavy for her.
As she walked deeper into the woods, the rhythmic crunch of leaves beneath her boots steadied her breath. The forest was a sanctuary, a place where she could feel connected to something greater than herself, something ancient and untamed. Yet, even as she walked, her mind continued to churn.
In the pack house;
After a stressful meeting with the elders, Liam walked through the dense woods, seeking solace after hours of exhausting meetings. The forest's tranquility was his escape, its quiet whispers offering a reprieve from the weight of leadership.
Deep in thought, he allowed his wolf to take over, shifting seamlessly as his clothes fell away. The wind carried a scent, sweet, familiar, and entirely captivating.
His senses sharpened instantly, his wolf stirred with unease , ready to shift.
It's happening like the day of the ceremony, that same uneasiness, it means something.
SHE'S HERE.
The mate he'd never expected to find so suddenly.
Something shifted. The air changed. Becomes thick with anticipation .