Shifting Destiny

Chapter Two

The wolf doesn’t stir as I step closer, but even unconscious, its presence is overwhelming. The sheer size of it alone is enough to send a shiver down my spine. Up close, its fur is even more striking—a deep, inky black that seems to swallow the dim light of the room. Matted in places with blood and dirt, the strands are coarse beneath my fingertips as I hesitantly reach out.

Alis moves with efficiency, already prepping gauze, antiseptic, and bandages. She hands me a pair of gloves without looking up. “Put these on.”

I don’t argue. My fingers tremble as I slip them on, snapping the latex into place. The scent of antiseptic clings to the air, sharp and sterile, but beneath it, I catch the faint musk of the wolf. It smells of the earth, of the wild—like pine needles after the rain, mixed with something darker, something primal.

Alis starts cleaning the wounds, her movements swift yet careful. “What happened to him?” I ask, trying to ground myself with conversation.

“Not sure,” she replies, her brow furrowed as she examines a particularly deep gash along his side. “There are bite marks, some deep. Could be another wolf, maybe a fight over territory. Or something worse.”

I don’t ask what “worse” means. Instead, I focus on the slow, steady rise and fall of the wolf’s chest. Even sedated, his breathing is labored, as if he’s fought too hard for too long.

Alis moves down to the leg that was bent at an unnatural angle when we walked in. She frowns, pressing gently along the bone. The wolf lets out a low, unconscious whimper, and I flinch.

“It’s broken,” she confirms, her voice grim. “We’ll need to set it.”

The words make my stomach twist. I don’t do well with pain—especially not when it’s someone else’s. But I square my shoulders. “What do you need me to do?”

Alis finally looks at me, approval flickering in her dark eyes. “Hold him steady while I work.”

I nod, swallowing the lump of fear in my throat. My hands hover above the wolf’s thick fur before finally making contact. The heat of its body is startling, a stark contrast to the cold steel of the examination table beneath him. Even sedated, the muscles beneath my palms twitch, tense with a subconscious fight for survival.

Alis works quickly, setting the bone with practiced hands. The moment the bone shifts back into place, the wolf’s body jerks, and a low, deep growl rumbles from his throat. My breath catches, my fingers gripping tighter, my pulse thudding in my ears.

“Easy,” I murmur instinctively, though I know he can’t hear me. Still, my touch softens just a little, offering something gentler than restraint—something close to comfort.

Once the leg is set and secured, Alis steps back, exhaling. “That should hold. We’ll monitor him and hope there’s no further damage.”

I release my hold, suddenly aware of how hard my heart is pounding. “Is he going to be okay?”

Alis wipes her hands on a cloth, her expression unreadable. “He’s strong. That helps.”

She doesn’t say more, but something in her tone makes me wonder if there’s more to this wolf than just another rescue.

I glance back at him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Up close, I notice scars beneath the fresh wounds, old marks of battles fought and survived. He’s a fighter, and yet, in this moment, he’s completely vulnerable.

As if sensing my gaze, his ears flick—just barely, but enough to send a jolt through me.

“Will he stay here?” I ask quietly.

“For now,” Alis says. “But we shall see how things go. It really depends on how feral he is and if we think we are equipped to help him."

I don’t know why that sentence unsettles me. Maybe because, in some ways, I understand what it’s like to be lost, to be without a place to belong.

Or maybe it’s because, as I look at the wolf, I get the strangest feeling that his arrival is only the beginning of something much bigger than either of us.