Episode 3
1118 Words
The days passed like fragments of a dream.
Sarah drifted between sleep and waking, her body caught between pain and healing.
Every time she opened her eyes, she saw the same room, the soft grey walls, the warm fire burning in the corner, and the faint scent of pinewood that lingered in the air.
Sometimes she wondered if it was real.
If Silvercrest was real.
If the man who had carried her out of the forest wasn’t just another vision sent by the Moon to test her heart.
The healer, a gentle woman named Mira, came often.
She cleaned the wounds on Sarah’s arms, whispered soothing words, and brought her food, warm broth, tea, soft bread.
It was comforting for someone to take care of her this way Mira did.
The same thing, she did for people, caring for their wounds.
And preparing herbs for them. Now she was the one experiencing it now.
The kindness felt foreign, almost heavy. Sarah wasn’t used to anyone caring this much. Not anymore.
“Your fever’s gone,” Mira said one morning, checking her pulse. “You’re stronger today.”
Sarah nodded weakly. “Thanks to you. Those herbs worked just fine. Maybe can ditched"
The healer smiled. “Thanks to the Alpha, actually. He brought you here himself. Said you were under his protection.”
That made Sarah pause. Under his protection. The words shouldn’t have meant much, but they did.
They stirred something quiet inside her, something she wasn’t ready to name.
Later that evening, as the firelight flickered across the room, the door opened.
Damian stepped inside.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at her—steady, assessing, unreadable.
His presence filled the room without effort. The kind of calm power that didn’t need to be spoken to be felt.
“You’re healing fast,” he said finally, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. “That’s good.”
Sarah lowered her gaze. “Thank you… for saving me.”
He nodded. “You were lucky my patrol was nearby.”
She hesitated, then asked softly, “Why did you help me?”
A faint shadow crossed his expression. “Because you needed help.”
She blinked, surprised by the simplicity of it. “Even if I was a stranger? Even if I was… from another pack?”
Damian’s eyes met hers, cool and unwavering. “A wolf bleeding in the woods isn’t an enemy,” he said. “She’s just a wolf in need.”
His words lingered in the air like warmth after a storm.
Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t pry, didn’t demand answers.
He simply existed in the same space, grounded, solid.
It was strange, how safety could feel like silence.
When he finally turned to leave, she found herself blurting out, “I can work. I don’t like feeling useless.”
He stopped by the door, glancing over his shoulder. “You can’t even stand properly yet.”
“I will soon,” she said quietly.
That made one corner of his mouth twitch. “We’ll see.”
Then he left, and the door closed softly behind him.
Sarah didn’t realize she was smiling until she felt the curve of it on her lips.
The next few days were easier. She began to walk small distances, first across the room, then to the balcony where she could see the valley below.
Silvercrest was different from Whitemoon. The land felt alive, open. The packhouses stood between mountains and rivers, built from dark stone and surrounded by tall pines.
Wolves ran freely beyond the border, not as soldiers, but as family. It was peaceful.
Too peaceful, maybe.
She watched the younger wolves sparring, their laughter echoing through the fields.
For a moment, she wished she could be one of them, free from fear, from the weight of exile.
But peace always felt temporary to her.
And secrets always followed.
One afternoon, Mira came rushing in, her face pale. “The Alpha called a meeting,” she said. “He wants you there.”
Sarah’s pulse quickened. “Me? Why?”
“He didn’t say. But… don’t be afraid. Damian isn’t like other Alphas.”
Sarah wasn’t sure what that meant. Still, she followed.
The meeting hall was vast, lit by fire torches and open beams. Several wolves stood gathered, warriors, trackers, and betas.
They turned to look at her when she entered, murmuring among themselves.
Damian stood at the center, tall and commanding. His expression softened slightly when he saw her. “Sarah,” he said, motioning her forward. “This is her.”
A tall man beside him frowned. “You mean the rogue we found?”
The word hit her like a slap. Rogue.
She wanted to speak, to defend herself, but her throat closed.
Damian’s gaze flicked sharply toward the man. “Watch your words, Cole. She’s under my protection.”
Cole lowered his head. “Yes, Alpha.”
Sarah swallowed, her heart pounding. Damian’s tone left no room for argument.
It wasn’t the cold authority she had known from Nova, it was something deeper. A command born from respect, not fear.
When the meeting ended, he walked her back to her room. The silence between them was heavier this time.
At the door, she finally whispered, “You didn’t have to defend me.”
“Yes, I did,” he said simply. “You were judged once for something you didn’t do. I won’t let it happen again.”
She froze. “How do you know that?”
His eyes softened, almost sad. “Because I can see it in your eyes. The guilt of the innocent always looks the same.”
Her breath caught.
No one had ever said that to her before. No one had seen her like that.
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the quiet corridor with her heart racing.
That night, Sarah lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
The memory of Nova’s betrayal still haunted her, but now, another image kept intruding: Damian’s eyes. Steady. Protective.
She held her pillow tight, smile to herself sheepishly, like a child that was given a box of chocolate.
The kind of gaze that promised nothing… and yet made her want to believe again.
For the first time in weeks, she didn’t dream of pain.
She dreamed of the forest, the moon, and the sound of a voice saying—
You’re safe.
But little did she know that Lydia back at home wasn't really done with her plans yet with her.
Unknown to Alpha Nova, Lydia has been communicating with the leader of the RedMoon Pack.
- Writer
