Chapter 7
904 Words
Myra’s POV
The morning light felt softer than usual, but it carried no warmth. Myra stood at her window, staring out at the Silvermist forest as the breeze stirred the leaves into a restless dance. Every breath of air seemed to carry his scent — faint, elusive, but unmistakable.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man from the river.
The memory returned again and again — the way his gaze had caught hers, powerful and unguarded, the way her heart had stumbled as if it recognized something ancient and inevitable. And then, just as suddenly, the way he had turned away, leaving her standing there with the bond humming painfully in her chest.
Her wolf stirred restlessly beneath her skin.
"He didn’t reject you, Myra", Niva whispered, her voice calm but firm. "He walked away, yes… but there was hesitation. Fear, maybe. You felt it too".
Myra pressed a hand against her chest. “Fear,” she murmured. “Why would an Alpha fear his mate?”
"Because he’s bound by more than instinct".
That answer didn’t ease her heart. If anything, it made it ache more. She sank onto the edge of her bed, tracing idle patterns along the blanket. An Alpha. Her mate was an Alpha — she’d felt the power radiating from him like heat, the kind that made her breath catch and her knees want to bend. But not just any Alpha.
The Alpha of Moonfang Pack.
Her stomach twisted at the thought. The Moonfangs were known for their ruthlessness, for their cold politics and their pride. Silvermist healers often treated wolves wounded from border skirmishes started by them.
And yet, when she looked into his eyes, she hadn’t seen cruelty. Only conflict.
She exhaled slowly and shook her head. Whatever the bond was meant to be, now wasn’t the time to speak of it. The packs were barely at peace; news of a Silvermist healer being mated to the Moonfang Alpha would cause more chaos than harmony.
“No one can know,” she said under her breath.
Not yet, Niva agreed softly. But don’t close your heart to him. The Moon chooses her timing for a reason.
Myra didn’t respond. She stood and dressed in her simple healer’s tunic, tying her brown hair back as sunlight began to spill into her room. Duty, at least, she could control.
---
The day unfolded in the usual rhythm of work. Myra made her rounds through the infirmary, tending to a sprained ankle, a feverish child, and an elder who always complained about the herbs tasting bitter. Her hands moved automatically — crushing, mixing, soothing — but her mind was far away, replaying the moment by the river over and over.
“Careful, you’re spilling the salve,” said a familiar voice.
Myra blinked down. A stream of greenish ointment was dripping down the side of the bowl. Across from her, Maren raised a brow, amusement mixed with concern.
“You’ve been somewhere else all morning,” Maren said, leaning on the table. “Don’t tell me you’ve started daydreaming about one of those market traders again.”
Myra forced a laugh. “No, nothing like that.”
“Hmm.” Maren didn’t sound convinced. “You’re pale, and your head’s in the clouds. If you’re sick, you should rest.”
“I’m fine,” Myra said too quickly.
Just then, Alexia, her mother, entered carrying a tray of fresh poultices. Her eyes—soft but sharp as ever—swept over her daughter’s face. “You look distracted, sweetheart. Something wrong?”
Myra busied herself with the herbs, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “Just tired. I couldn’t sleep well last night.”
Alexia exchanged a knowing look with Maren, but neither pressed further. They’d learned long ago that when Myra wanted to keep something to herself, she would.
Still, guilt tugged at her. She wanted to tell her mother everything—the bond, the river, the golden-eyed Alpha—but some instinct told her to wait. This connection was delicate, like a spark barely catching flame. If she spoke of it too soon, she might lose it before it had a chance to become real.
So she said nothing.
---
By evening, the sky had deepened to violet, and the forest hummed with the songs of night insects. Myra walked alone to the stream behind the infirmary, kneeling to rinse her hands in the cool water. The ripples shimmered with moonlight.
For a long moment, she simply stared at her reflection, then whispered, “Why me?”
Niva’s voice rose softly within her.
Because the Moon binds those who can heal what is broken. Even Alphas need light, Myra. And you were born to give it.
A shiver ran through her. She wanted to believe that, wanted to trust in destiny. But the memory of him walking away still lingered like a bruise she couldn’t quite soothe.
She looked toward the north, where the Moonfang lands stretched beyond the hills. Somewhere out there, he was probably pretending none of this had happened—just as she was trying to.
“Then we’ll both pretend,” she murmured. “For now.”
The wind stirred the trees, carrying the faintest echo of a growl—soft, distant, and heartbreakingly familiar.
And though she told herself it was only her imagination, her heart answered anyway.
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- Writer
