Misguided Wolves

33. Seeking Clarity, Gaining Questions

Elliott left the dining hall, his cousin Kyle’s jests lifting his spirits after months of wallowing. The fire of Kate’s memory burned bright, fueling new determination. He sought Hova, her promise of a reading tugging at him like an invisible thread. Even Leo, his wolf, paced restlessly in his mind, anxious for clarity. Elliott rolled his eyes. That’s distracting, you know.

Leo grunted, I can’t help it. Since we parted from Tove, I’ve been restless. You severed the mating bond, but I feel a faint trace of her still.

Elliott froze mid-step. Wait, a connection? Are we still linked to Kate somehow?

Leo flopped down, irritation clear in his silence. He rarely spoke this much, preferring action over words, but Kate’s presence had stirred him. Don’t get excited, lover boy. The bond’s gone. It’s just a faint echo, proof Tove’s alive. Nothing more.

Elliott sighed, disappointment heavy. Better than nothing. Maybe Hova knows more.

He found her in a quiet chamber, seated on a blanket with a steaming teapot and a worn bag beside a hammered metal bowl. Hova’s warm smile softened her glowing eyes, drawing him in like a beacon. As a boy, he’d met another seer whose cold gaze repelled him, but Hova’s eyes welcomed him, an invisible string pulling him closer. He sat cross-legged, feeling like a child awaiting a teacher’s lesson.

“Welcome, child,” Hova said, pouring tea. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Today, we’ll try several reading methods.”

Elliott took the delicate cup, cradling it as if it might shatter. She urged him to drink while she touched the bowl, her fingers tracing its sides with maternal care.

“Jackson made this as a pup. Most fear my gift, but he embraced it, researching ways to strengthen it. He hammered this from ore when he found this method.”

She untied the bag, revealing a jumble of objects and bones. Taking Elliott’s hands, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply as her fingers traced his palms. Her tattooed symbols glowed faintly. After a moment, she squeezed his hands and released them, reaching for the bag. “Blow,” she said, holding it up, her eyes aglow.

Elliott hesitated, then exhaled gently. Hova grabbed a handful of objects, tossing them into the bowl. To Elliott, they fell randomly, meaningless. Hova studied them intently, pointing as she spoke. “I promised clarity, but your path is mixed. You stand at a fork, each road leading to a different life.”

She pointed to a charm with a sun and moon, Logi’s symbol, sparking memories of the day he first saw Kate, her beauty stealing his breath. “This may look familiar. The sun and moon can mean opposing forces, fighting for dominance, or unity, coming together as one. You face two paths. You’ve said you don’t want the crown—what comes with it is your choice.”

She gestured to one side of the bowl, her face darkening. “This path offers freedom, the simple life you dream of, but it severs you from Kate and others close to you.”

She pointed to the other side. “The crown brings a heavy burden—responsibility for countless lives. But it lets you claim Kate, who’ll stand by you despite the past. Both paths have perks and burdens.”

She indicated a red string, smiling. “A mating bond awaits, regardless of your choice.”

Next, a coin balanced impossibly on its edge beside the string. “This shows choice. One path leads to one mate, the other to another.”

Elliott’s eyes widened. “You mean I might not end up with Kate?”

“Correct,” Hova said. “Your choice could lead to a different mate. It’s up to you.”

“How do I know?” he asked, voice tight.

Hova’s smile was gentle. “You won’t, not until the choice is made, and one path vanishes.”

She pointed to a fresh daisy, impossibly vibrant from the bag. “The loss of your pup was hard,” she said softly, “and I’m sorry. But this bloom shows another chance. Your next child will thrive, no matter your path.”

She squeezed his hand, her voice firm. “Don’t blame yourself for the pup. It wasn’t time, and it was unavoidable, no matter the path. Leave the what-ifs behind.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “Follow your heart. Do what feels right, even against all you know. It’ll lead you true.”

Elliott’s brows furrowed, unease quickening his pulse. “What if I’m wrong?”

Hova slapped the side of his head, not hard but enough to jolt him. “Stop that nonsense! Listen to your heart and trust your wolf. You’re a team—act like it!”

Elliott rubbed his head, stunned, as Hova took his teacup, studying the leaves. Her face grew pensive, biting her lip. “Interesting…”

He leaned forward, eager as a child. “Is it bad?”

Hova exhaled slowly. “Time shifts, always changing with one decision. This reading isn’t just about you. I see sickness, possibly death, for someone close, not you. They’ll shape your future choices.”

Elliott frowned, more confused. “Anything else?”

“You’ll thrive,” she said, “once you navigate these bumps. A happy, fulfilling life awaits, whichever path you choose.”

Her glow faded, eyes and tattoos dimming as she tied her blindfold. Rising, she dusted her clothes and waved him to follow. In a cluttered room, dried herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling, bookshelves brimming with tools and tomes. Hova rummaged, pulling out a wooden box and handing it to Elliott. “For you.”

Inside were two talismans. Elliott lifted a wolf head, and Hova pressed it to his chest. “Fenrir, for patience, determination, and might.”

Elliott grinned, skeptical but charmed. His warriors swore by talismans, though he teased them. He slipped it on, then studied the second—a round carving of a tree with a sun and moon. Hova closed his fist around it. “The tree of life, sun and moon—birth to death, earth to heavens. You’ll know when to use it.”

“How?” he asked.

“Trust me, you’ll know.” She smiled.

“That’s all for today. Remember my words and may the moon goddess and Fenrir guide your path. Now, to the training grounds—Jackson’s waiting.”

Elliott turned to leave, but Hova stopped him, pressing a wayfinder-carved metal disk into his palm. “Give this to Mark. Tell him his suspicions are correct, but not to blame Jackson.”

Elliott opened his mouth to ask more, but Hova shoved him out, closing the door. He stood, staring at the disk, questions swirling. Why did Mark need a wayfinder? What suspicions? Why Jackson? Shaking his head, he headed to the training grounds, resolve firm.