Saera
597 Words
The pack noticed before I did.
Not openly. Not with stares or whispers. Just small, instinctive shifts—wolves changing direction without realizing why, conversations softening as we passed. Space opened where none had been asked for.
Silas noticed it too. I felt it in the way his pace adjusted to mine, the way he angled himself slightly—not in front, not behind. Beside.
No one commented.
That somehow made it louder.
We crossed the inner grounds toward the communal path, boots crunching softly against frost-hardened earth. A few wolves glanced up, hesitated, then went back to what they were doing. One lowered his head briefly as we passed, confusion flickering across his face when he realized what he’d done.
I slowed.
Silas slowed with me.
“They can feel it,” he said quietly.
I exhaled. “I wish I didn’t.”
“You don’t have to,” he replied. “They’ll adjust.”
That was when Saera appeared.
She came from the armory path, hair pulled back, sleeves rolled, her usual calm stride faltering just a fraction when she saw us together. Her gaze moved once—quick, precise—from Silas to me.
Then she stopped.
Not abruptly. Just… intentionally.
Her eyes softened when they met mine.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” I answered.
Silas didn’t step away. Didn’t crowd. Just stayed exactly where he was, like he trusted the space between us to hold.
Saera studied him for a heartbeat longer. Not assessing. Reading.
Then she exhaled.
It wasn’t relief exactly. More like recognition.
“He’s different with you,” she said, voice low enough that it felt like it was meant only for me.
I blinked. “Different how?”
She tilted her head slightly. “Quieter. Like he’s listening even when no one’s speaking.”
Silas glanced at her then, not defensive. Just aware.
“She keeps me that way,” he said.
Saera huffed a soft laugh, the tension easing out of her shoulders. She stepped closer and nudged my arm with hers—familiar, grounding, home.
“You okay?” she asked.
It wasn’t a casual question. It never was with her.
“I am,” I said after a beat. “Right now.”
She nodded, accepting the truth without asking for more. Then, gently, she reached out and squeezed my hand once.
Just once.
“I’m glad,” she said. Then, quieter, “You don’t feel… pulled apart anymore.”
That landed deeper than anything else had all day.
Before I could answer, someone called her name from across the grounds. She glanced back, then at me again.
“I’ll find you later,” she said. “Just—don’t disappear on me.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
She hesitated, then added, “And for what it’s worth… I like him.”
Silas’s mouth curved, barely.
“I like you too,” he said.
Saera smirked. “Good. Try not to ruin that.”
And then she was gone, leaving the air lighter than before.
I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding myself together until she walked away.
Silas shifted slightly, his arm brushing mine. Not claiming. Just there.
“You didn’t tense,” he said.
“I didn’t need to,” I replied.
For the first time since everything had started unraveling, I felt something settle into place—not the bond, not fate.
Belonging.
Not because of prophecy.
Because the people who knew me best were still standing where they always had.
And somehow, Silas fit there too.
- Writer
