Bound To The Alpha

Chapter 3- The Pull Beneath The Surface

POV: Myra

The morning light filtered through the trees in pale ribbons, painting the healer’s cabin in gold and silver dust. The air smelled faintly of crushed herbs — mint, sage, and something sweet I couldn’t quite name.

I tugged on my usual work clothes: soft brown leggings, a faded tunic cinched at the waist with a leather belt, and my light cloak, the color of moss. Practical — not exactly fashionable, but good enough for a day of treating wolf bites and bruises. My hair refused to stay in the braid I’d forced it into, so I tied it back again and muttered, “If this comes loose one more time, I’m shaving it off.”

“No, you won’t,” Niva said, her voice warm and amused in my mind. “You’d miss the drama of flipping it when you’re annoyed.”

“Fair point,” I sighed.

Outside, the Silvermist Pack settlement buzzed with the usual morning rhythm — wolves training in the distance, pups chasing each other through the grass, the smell of bread wafting from the communal kitchen. Mist clung low to the ground, glowing faintly in the sunlight, as if the earth itself was reluctant to wake.

I started my rounds early.

The healer’s hut was busy — three injured warriors from last night’s border patrol, a feverish pup, and a hunter with a badly twisted ankle.

“Hold still, Soren,” I said, crouching beside the warrior with the ankle. “You’re lucky it’s just a sprain.”

He grimaced. “Doesn’t feel lucky.”

I smiled faintly as I unwrapped the bandage, dipping my fingers into a jar of cooling salve. The scent of pine and wildflower oil filled the air. My hands moved on their own — years of habit — but my mind kept drifting.

That strange pull again. That quiet hum under my skin that had started yesterday after my dream.

“Niva,” I murmured mentally, “do you feel that?”

“I do,” she said carefully. “It’s stronger today. The Moon’s energy is shifting.”

“Or I’m just tired.”

“You’ve never been this restless before.”

I pressed my lips together, not answering. She was right — something was off. The forest felt… alive somehow, whispering secrets I wasn’t supposed to hear.

---

After hours of healing and scolding stubborn warriors who refused to rest, I finally leaned against the doorway, stretching my sore shoulders. The mist outside had started to thin, revealing the silver-green forest beyond our walls.

That was when Maren jogged up, her red curls bouncing. “You look like you’ve been through a war,” she said, grinning.

“I basically have. Half the warriors can’t tell the difference between bravery and stupidity.”

“True. What’s wrong with Soren this time?”

“Sprained ankle. Again. I told him the next time he comes in, I’m just amputating.”

Maren snorted, then grew serious. “Hey, by the way — Elder Ren said the feverweed stock is low. You might want to gather more before the next patrol returns.”

“Of course it is,” I groaned. Feverweed was one of the key herbs for reducing infection — and it only grew near the river, where the soil stayed damp. Too close to the border for comfort.

Maren must’ve read the hesitation on my face. “I can come with you if you want.”

I shook my head. “Nah. It’s fine. I’ll go later, after rounds. It’s only a quick walk.”

“That’s what everyone says before they step into trouble,” Niva muttered.

I ignored her, packing the last of my supplies into my satchel.

---

By the time the sun began to dip, the forest had turned golden — shafts of light cutting through the canopy, mist curling around the roots. I stood at the edge of the healer’s clearing, looking out toward the distant stretch of trees where the river glimmered faintly.

Something about it pulled at me again — that invisible thread tugging at the center of my chest.

“Just herbs,” I told myself under my breath. “That’s all.”

But as I started down the path into the woods, even I didn’t believe it.

---