Steps Toward Peace
1080 Words
Selene’s POV
⸻
The snow had stopped falling by the time I stepped outside.
It had been days since I’d left the infirmary. Maybe a week. Time moved differently when your body was healing and your mind was untangling years of silence.
But that morning, something inside me stirred.
Not my wolf — not yet.
Just… me.
Selene.
The she-wolf who had survived rejection and humiliation and still found the strength to breathe.
I wanted air.
I wanted space.
I wanted to walk.
So I pulled on the boots left by the door, wrapped myself in one of the thick cloaks Mara had quietly folded on the bed, and stepped into the cold.
The chill slapped my skin like a greeting, sharp and crisp and real. I pulled the cloak tighter and took my first full breath in what felt like years.
The Ashfang Pack lands were nothing like Nightfall’s.
Nightfall had been sharp stone walls, high towers, and watchful eyes.
Ashfang was mountains and mist. Pines that stretched into the sky. Snow-covered paths winding between low stone cottages and wooden cabins with slanted rooftops. The silence here wasn’t oppressive — it was sacred.
There were no guards shadowing my every move. No whispers following my footsteps. Just wolves going about their day — nodding in greeting, not with pity, but quiet respect.
They didn’t know me.
And yet… no one sneered.
No one looked at me like I was something broken.
And for once, I wasn’t afraid to be seen.
I wandered aimlessly at first.
Past a frozen river that glistened under the pale sun.
Through a path of evergreens where my fingers brushed soft needles.
Until I found a flat stone overlooking the edge of a cliff that dropped down into a mist-filled valley. The view stretched endlessly — mountains rolled like sleeping giants, snow-tipped and wild.
I sat there, wrapping the cloak tighter around my knees.
No tears came.
Only silence.
And breath.
For so long, I had forgotten what it meant to just exist. Without orders. Without performance.
I’d lived under the weight of Kade’s expectations for years, taught to believe that my silence was strength — that gentleness was weakness.
But now…
Now the silence wasn’t forced.
It was mine.
Mine.
I wasn’t alone for long.
A soft crunch of boots in snow made me turn, my muscles tensing.
It wasn’t Ronan this time.
It was a woman — tall, striking, with long braids and golden-brown skin. She carried herself with confidence, her shoulders broad, her gaze direct but warm.
“I figured I’d find you here,” she said, stopping a few feet away.
I tilted my head. “Do I know you?”
She smiled. “Not yet. I’m Captain Thalia — head of patrol units and trainer of reckless young wolves who think battle scars make them important.”
I blinked. “You’re… a warrior?”
She chuckled. “That’s what they call me. I prefer ‘problem solver.’”
I stood, brushing snow from my cloak. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She studied me for a moment. “You’ve been through it.”
I swallowed but nodded.
“Good,” she said.
My brows rose. “Good?”
Thalia nodded. “The wolves who’ve seen fire are the ones I want in my pack.”
My chest tightened. “I don’t think I’m pack material right now.”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Neither did Ronan when I found him. And look where he is now.”
I blinked. “You knew him before?”
Thalia smirked. “Before the Alpha title? Yes. Before the tragedy? Definitely. He was a mess. Still is, on the inside, but at least now he knows how to channel it.”
She glanced down the cliffside. “You picked a good place. This was his brother’s favorite view. Ronan comes here when he needs to remember who he is.”
I looked out again, surprised. “He lost his brother?”
Thalia’s voice softened. “Years ago. Took a long time for him to forgive the world.”
I didn’t ask for details. I didn’t need them. Pain was universal — even for Alphas.
Especially for Alphas.
Thalia turned to go, but paused. “Come by the training yard tomorrow. You don’t have to fight. Just watch. Feel the rhythm again.”
“Why?” I asked.
Her eyes locked with mine.
“Because one day, your wolf will want to run again. And you should be ready when she does.”
Then she walked away, leaving nothing but footprints and the faint scent of cedar.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
But it wasn’t from nightmares this time.
It was from possibility.
I stared at the journal Ronan had given me, its pages now half-filled with messy sketches and single words.
Strength.
Fire.
Freedom.
Eira.
I missed her.
My wolf.
I missed her steady growl and her rage and her warmth. She had been so quiet since Kade’s rejection — like a part of her had died when our bond was severed.
But something Thalia said stayed with me.
One day, your wolf will want to run again.
And maybe that day wasn’t today.
But it was coming.
I could feel it.
The next morning, I went to the training yard.
I didn’t shift.
I didn’t lift a blade.
I didn’t spar.
But I watched.
I watched wolves of every size, rank, and gender train together like equals.
I watched warriors fall and rise again.
I watched Thalia bark commands like thunder and praise like gold.
I watched a young she-wolf with a twisted leg win a match through pure strategy.
No one mocked her. They cheered her.
And something inside me cracked open.
Because for the first time, I could see a future where I wasn’t defined by rejection or obedience.
A future where strength didn’t mean cruelty.
A future where I could become something more than a castoff Luna.
I could become me.
That night, as I returned to my room, there was a tray at my door. Hot soup. Fresh bread. And a note written in bold, neat handwriting:
“You took your first step today. That matters. — R”
I pressed the note to my chest, breath shaking.
It wasn’t love.
It wasn’t a bond.
But it was seen.
And after everything I had been through…
Being seen was the first real peace I had ever known.
- Writer
