The Triplets' Silent Mate

Chapter 3 – The First Shift

Ayla’s POV

Alpha Jack and Luna Ria didn’t stand in my way when I turned and stepped toward the door a second time. They knew it was time for me to leave. They gave me a silent nod before I exited the packhouse.

I could feel my wolf stirring more and more, as if she were urging me to get a move on to the clearing.

The forest was quiet—too quiet. I could hear my old winter boots crunch into the soft, white snow, louder than they should.

The trees closed in as I went deeper—pine and birch, heavy with ice, their branches creaking softly. The air smelled different here, more earthy.

No one was outside; everyone was inside, joining in on the festivities. The sound of laughter faded as I moved farther away, leaving behind the warm glow that barely reached the forest.

I sighed as I made my way toward a nearby clearing. All coming-of-age wolves have their first shift there, and usually, the pack would gather around to witness it. I’d be all alone tonight. No one would witness it. No one wanted to.

I pushed the thoughts aside; there was no need to ponder things that would never change. At least the snow had stopped.

My gaze shifted toward the sky. The clouds had cleared, revealing a dark, twinkling sky.

The moon is climbing.

I stop at the edge of the clearing; it’s almost time. I can feel it.

My fingers close around the pendant at my throat. Cold metal presses into my skin, solid and real. I hold onto it longer than I need to.

A breath leaves me in a pale cloud. Then I move.

Above me, the moon hangs bright and watchful, its light spilling into the clearing ahead. The snow there glows faintly, untouched. My chest tightens as I step into it. That feeling is stronger now.

Not just movement. A pull.

I stop in the center of the clearing. Everything feels different, like the forest is waiting, even holding its breath.

My hands shake as I take off my hoodie. It hits the ground behind me. My shoes follow. The cold bites my skin immediately, sharp and unforgiving, but I barely register it.

My wolf stirs again, more urgent this time.

I close my eyes, waiting for the pain to hit, and for a second—nothing.

I open my eyes, looking down at my hands, but before I can register what’s happening, it hits. Pain. Excruciating pain, with no warning, no buildup.

It just tears through me like a hot knife. My knees buckle and slam into the snow. My body locks, then jerks violently as something inside me shifts—wrong, then worse. Bones move, leaving a horrible cracking sound echoing in the quiet clearing.

My fingers dig into the snow, my nails scraping into it as my body twists. A sound rips out of my throat, raw and broken, but it never turns into a scream.

My spine snaps back, stealing what little air I had left. Heat floods through my veins, burning under my skin, through my chest, down my limbs—everywhere.

It hurts so much. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. It keeps going. Goddess, will it ever end?

A silent scream rips through my body, and then, everything changes. Not gone, just different.

The pain stretches, twists—then sharpens into something else: power. It surges through me, sudden and overwhelming. My senses snap open all at once. I can smell the earth beneath the snow and hear the pounding of a small heartbeat close by.

I open my eyes. The world is sharper, the edges cleaner. Light is brighter.

I shift and freeze. I’m not standing on two legs anymore, but on four. I test it without thinking; weight shifts, balance adjusts. It feels natural, as if I were born for this.

I glance down, and my eyes widen. White fur. Bright enough to catch the moonlight.

“Well,” a voice says, dry and unimpressed. “At least we didn’t come out disappointing.”

I go completely still.

“Wait…what?” I gasp.

“Oh good, you heard that," she says and pauses. “I was about to start judging you out loud.”

My ears flick forward.

“You... you’re my wolf?" I stutter, surprised.

“Yes,” she says. “Congratulations. Took you long enough to notice that.”

I inhale slowly, trying to steady the rush of everything. I didn’t expect my wolf to be able to verbalize—was that even normal?

“It is,” she says, unimpressed. “How else do you think we communicate with our human?”

I ignore her, trying to understand what I’m feeling.

“What’s your name?” I manage to say.

“Seriously,” she growls. “Did the Moon Goddess pair me with—”

A name surfaces suddenly. “Tala," I say, making her quiet.

“Mm. That's better,” she says. “At least you didn’t call me something like 'Shadowfang'; that would have pissed me off.”

The air shifts, and my body reacts before my mind does. My ears twitch and muscles tighten. My gaze shifts toward the trees.

There.

At the edge of the clearing, something—or someone—stands. Too still. Too focused.

An uncontrollable shiver rolls down my spine.

That same feeling rises again—something coming. My body goes rigid.

“That’s not—” my voice trails off.

“Normal? Yes. I gathered,” Tala says anxiously. “It’s not moving. Not breathing either.”

“It just stands there," I finish. "It's watching…."

A cold feeling settles deep in my chest. Is it the same thing from my past?

“It sees us…” I mutter.

“Yes,” Tala says, quieter now, and fear fills me inside.

I blink once, and the figure is gone—no movement, no sound. Just… gone.

I step back, paws sinking into the snow. My senses stretch outward, searching—no lingering scent. Nothing. Not a trace at all, like it was never there to begin with.

“That’s worse,” Tala says.

My chest tightens. “What was it?” I ask, hoping she might recognize the shadow.

“I don’t know,” she answers, sharper now. “And I don’t like not knowing.”

That hits harder than anything else she’s said.

“It wasn’t afraid," I mumble, a flare of panic rushing through me.

“No,” she says. “Definitely not.”

“It’s going to come back,” I say.

“…Yeah,” she replies.

I shift, restless now. “We should go.”

“Look at you," she taunts. "Making decisions. I’m impressed. I was wondering when you’d start running home.”

I roll my eyes at her, turning toward the packhouse, its light barely visible through the trees.

“We’d better leave,” Tala adds. “That thing—whatever it is—”

“I know,” I say. This wasn’t random. I knew I was shifting tonight. It was waiting.

I pick up my clothes and start running back to the packhouse. Snow kicks up beneath me, my body moving effortlessly, faster than it ever has before.

But the feeling doesn’t fade; it sharpens. It’s coming from me.

“It chose us,” I say.

This time, Tala doesn’t answer.

And that… is worse than anything she could’ve said.

****