I lost my pup when a careless cart struck me on the forest road as I was returning from the pack’s gathering. The shock drove me to the healer’s hut, and the pup within me did not survive the blood loss. Today marked the second moon since the cleansing rite, so Theron accompanied me to the Moon Shrine for my checkup with the elders.

When he offered a hurried excuse and turned to leave, I did not try to hold him back. I no longer grasped at his cloak or begged him to remain by my side as I once had beneath the full moon.

Watching his back fade into the pine shadows, a strange calm settled over me. It was as though a thread that had bound my heart to his had finally loosened. I realized then that whether he stood near or far no longer stirred my spirit as it once did. His absence did not wound me the way it used to.

A young healer called my name, and I accepted the moon-herb remedies and the elders’ words in silence before making my way home alone through the quiet woods.

Not long after, a raven brought his message. It read: Mira, return to the keep on your own. I have matters to attend within the pack.

In earlier days, I would have sent a desperate mindlink across the distance, asking him to come for me, pleading for his company. Now, such words felt like wasted breath carried away by the wind. With quiet acceptance, I replied simply, Very well.

I left the shrine grounds and hired a carriage to take me back. As we passed the river bend, I glimpsed Theron’s horse tied near the old oak. It was strange. Had he not claimed he could not escort me home?

When I reached the keep, a parchment posted in the gathering hall caught my eye. Isolde Mary had marked Theron in her message, declaring, A slight fever troubled me, yet he insisted on bringing me to the healer and has stayed beside me ever since. After all these years, you remain my truest protector.

Isolde Davis—his childhood mate. Years ago, she left our territory to wed a wealthy lord beyond the mountains. Last winter, fortune abandoned her husband, and after his ruin and their separation, she returned with a young cub.

In Theron’s eyes, I had always been the one who filled the space Isolde left behind. I knew this long before I accepted his proposal under the silver moon. Yet at that time, I loved him deeply and bound myself to him in oath before the Moonstone.

Once, I longed to bear his heir and strengthen our line. But the loss of my pup felt like a message from the Goddess of the Moon—perhaps a child tied to Theron would not have thrived in my womb.

After taking the healer’s draught, sleep claimed me. In the deep of night, the door creaked open.

“What did the elders reveal today?” Theron asked softly as he approached my bedside, brushing a hand over my hair.

A foreign scent clung to him—a trace of another she-wolf’s perfume carried by the wind. I turned my face away, refusing his touch in silence.

“Nothing of concern,” I answered, forcing calm into my voice. “I am well.”

Theron nodded. “The pack required my presence. Matters grew urgent.”

I did not challenge him. I rolled onto my side, closing my eyes. “Then you should wash away the day’s scent before resting.”

For a brief moment, he hesitated. He did not argue. Soon after, I heard the chamber door open and the sound of water spilling into the basin as he cleansed himself in silence.

The following dawn arrived beneath a pale sky, and I rose before the first horn sounded across the pack lands. It was my turn to serve at the healer’s hut near the western ridge, so I left early and did not wait for Theron to stir beside the hearth. After the council meeting ended at midday, a messenger brought word that he sought me through mindlink.

His thoughts reached mine with a faint edge of irritation. Mira, why did you not wake me at dawn? You left the den without warning, and I overslept.

Once, I had tended to him with utmost devotion. After our bond was sealed beneath the full moon and the elders marked our union with sacred oil and moonstone, I rose before him each day. I laid out his tunic and cloak, prepared his meal over the fire, and sent him a gentle mind-call so he would not miss his duties. I believed such care was the duty of a loyal mate.

Yet his tone now carried expectation, as though my devotion were nothing more than an obligation etched into the earth. As if love were a task assigned to me alone.

But I was never his servant—I was his wife by oath. I had every right to refuse.

“If you will be late, then rise quickly,” I replied through the bond.

He asked again, What shall I wear to the gathering today?

“Choose any garments you prefer. They hang in the cedar chest,” I answered.

“But I cannot find—”

A healer summoned me for assistance at that moment, so I cut the link short. “I must attend to my duties. Search for them yourself.”

Not long after, his voice pressed into my thoughts again. The shirts are wrinkled. Have you not pressed them? I cannot stand before the pack in such condition.

Then came another complaint. And no meal has been prepared?

Before I could respond, the pack’s chief healer called me into his chamber. “Mira,” he said warmly, “your strength has returned. The Moon Goddess smiles upon you. The High Council wishes to speak regarding advanced training in the northern territories.”

I had once declined such an opportunity, believing I would soon bear Theron’s heir and remain within our den. But that dream had crumbled like dry leaves under frost. Building a family with him no longer felt sacred—it felt hollow. Remaining beside him seemed not merely futile, but unwise.

“I have reconsidered,” I told the healer with steady resolve. “I will accept.”

He smiled with approval. “A wise path.”

He instructed me to prepare for departure once the moon cycle was confirmed. His encouragement strengthened my heart. Perhaps this was the beginning of a life shaped by my own will, not by another’s shadow.

Work carried me through the day like flowing river water. When at last darkness cloaked the forest, I remained inside the hall sorting parchments. Only when Theron’s mind-call reached me did I realize how late it had grown.

Why have you not returned? Where is the evening meal?

The thought of stepping back into the den beside him filled me with unease. I chose instead to remain and finish my tasks.

“My duties shifted unexpectedly,” I answered calmly through the link. “I shall eat here this night. You may hunt or prepare your own supper.”

Here? His thoughts carried surprise.

In former times, leaving him without a prepared feast would have been unthinkable. I had tended every fire, every meal, three times a day.

“Is there trouble?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “Only work.”

After a pause, he spoke again, softer this time. Do not exhaust yourself.

“Thank you,” I answered without warmth.

Silence lingered between us before he finally asked, Mira… are you displeased with me?

The question arrived late, like a wolf sensing a scent long after it has faded. A spark stirred within me—something close to anger, yet deeper than that. It was disappointment, quiet and enduring. Did he truly fail to see my feelings, or had he simply never cared to look?

It no longer mattered.

I would not carry resentment any longer. The moon would guide me elsewhere, and my heart would follow its light without him.

In a tone softened by ritual humility, Theron chose to speak through the mindlink first. Mira, Isolde struggles to rear her cub alone. She knows no kin here. Among this territory, I am her only ally.

His words struck like the edge of a blade. He seemed to forget that, in truth, I too had only him since the day our bonds were sealed beneath the silver moon.

“I understand,” I replied quietly through the link. “She has endured much.”

Mira, what do you mean by that? Why do you sound so—

“I said I understand,” I repeated, my thoughts growing colder, stripped of warmth. “Is that not enough?”

Must you answer me so sharply?

“Then what would you have me say?” I asked, frustration threading through my voice.

For a moment, the bond between us went still. The silence felt heavy, like a storm gathering beyond the forest. At last, he muttered, Do as you please, before severing the mindlink.

How ironic it was. Once, when I asked why he visited Isolde’s dwelling near the eastern pines, he called me troublesome. When I sought to know when he would return from her side, he accused me of clinging too tightly. And now, even my effort to understand him drew his ire.

With a quiet exhale, I set the rune-stone aside. Worrying would not mend the fracture between us. There were still scrolls to copy and records to complete before the council’s inspection.

When the night watch concluded, I remained behind to sweep the hall and extinguish the hearth fires. Returning to the den felt unnecessary, almost burdensome.

By the time I reached home, Theron had already departed for his duties with the warriors. I cleansed myself with water drawn from the well and lay down upon the furs, hoping for rest. Yet just as sleep began to claim me, the stillness shattered by the sharp chime of the signal bell beside the bed. It was Theron’s mind reaching mine.

Mira, he pressed, his thoughts strained, my… my belly aches.

I murmured a response, though exhaustion weighed heavily upon me. Before I could rise, sleep dragged me under once more. In my dreams, I thought I heard him calling my name across the woods, but the sound faded like mist at dawn, and I let it drift away.

Later, the door creaked open. I awoke to find Theron standing by the furs, his expression drawn and pained.

“Mira, why have you grown so distant? In the past, when illness struck me, you would rush to my side with broth and herbs. You would sit through the night until my fever broke.”

Those memories were etched clearly within me. Once, when he suffered from stomach pain, I sought leave from the healer and carried remedies to his training grounds. On the journey, rain fell without mercy, soaking my hair and cloak until I appeared unworthy of a mate. His companions laughed at my disheveled state. Theron did not silence them. Instead, he later told me never to appear before his warriors again, claiming I brought him shame.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Our herb pouch may be empty. You might gather more from the healer at dawn.”

For a heartbeat, he stared at me without speaking. Then anger flared in his eyes. Gripping my arm, he demanded, Mira, how long will you persist in quarreling over Isolde? I swear upon the Moonstone, there is nothing between us!

I met his gaze calmly. “Very well.”

My composed reply only deepened his fury. With a harsh movement, he stormed out of the den, the door striking the wooden frame behind him.

When the echo faded, an unfamiliar peace settled over the chamber. The silence felt lighter than his presence had ever been.