THE ALPHA'S SAVAGE MATE

Chapter 7: The Forest

Brielle's POV

The first thing I learned about running away was that the forest wasn’t some peaceful escape. It was a battlefield.

The forest looked different by day: less magical, more menacing. The sunlight that trickled through the thick canopy above wasn’t warm or golden like the storybooks made it seem. It was cold, muted, fractured by the swaying branches that seemed to block most of the light.

My muscles were screaming from the night before, every step through the thick underbrush sending sharp, shooting pains through my calves. My feet were already battered, the soles of my thin sneakers torn from the sharp rocks and branches that littered the forest floor.

Still, I kept walking.

I didn’t have a choice.

I’d barely slept.

I’d tried to rest after crossing the pack’s border, collapsing in a clearing beneath a tree with my bag as a makeshift pillow. But the night had been full of sounds I wasn’t used to. Every crack of a branch, every rustle of leaves sent my heart racing.

I’d laid there, staring at the stars through the gaps in the trees, clutching the small knife I’d brought as if it could actually save me if something,or someone,came for me.

The fear had been suffocating, like a second layer of skin I couldn’t peel off.

Now, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind. But it had been joined by something worse: exhaustion.

I pushed forward, stepping over a fallen tree and nearly tripping on a root that jutted out of the ground like a claw. My bag bounced against my back, the straps digging into my shoulders. The knife was tucked into the side pocket, where I could grab it in a heartbeat if I needed to.

Not that it would do much good.

The forest felt alive, but not in a friendly way. Shadows shifted in the corners of my vision, and every now and then, I’d hear the distant snap of a branch or the faint rustle of something moving in the underbrush.

I told myself it was just the wind. Just animals. Nothing that would hurt me.

But my imagination was cruel, painting vivid pictures of rogues with sharp teeth and glowing eyes, waiting just out of sight to pounce.

The world outside the pack’s territory was dangerous. I’d known that when I left. But knowing it and feeling it were two very different things.

By midmorning, my stomach was growling loud enough to scare off birds.

I hadn’t thought about food when I’d packed my bag. I’d been too focused on leaving, too desperate to escape. Now, the reality of my situation was hitting me in waves.

I didn’t have food. I didn’t have a map. I didn’t even know where I was going.

All I knew was that I couldn’t go back.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine, despite the warmth of the sun overhead. Going back meant humiliation. It meant more sneers, more whispers, more reminders of my failure.

No. I’d die out here before I let them drag me back.

I came across a small stream a few hours later, the sound of trickling water drawing me in like a magnet.

The water was clear, reflecting the sunlight in fractured ripples. I crouched down by the edge, cupping my hands and drinking greedily. It was icy cold, shocking against my dry throat, but I didn’t care.

I splashed some of it on my face, letting the coolness chase away the sticky sweat that clung to my skin.

For a moment, I just sat there, my knees pressed into the damp grass, staring at the water.

It was beautiful in a way, untouched and wild. But it didn’t feel safe.

Nothing out here felt safe.

The sun was starting to sink when the hunger became unbearable. My stomach twisted painfully, a hollow ache that felt like it was eating me from the inside out.

I’d seen a few bushes with berries earlier in the day, but I didn’t know enough about plants to tell if they were safe to eat. For all I knew, they’d kill me faster than starvation.

So I kept walking, my eyes scanning the forest floor for anything remotely edible.

That’s when I spotted it: a small patch of mushrooms growing at the base of a tree.

I hesitated, crouching down to examine them. They were pale and smooth, with little caps that curled slightly at the edges.

Are these safe?

My stomach growled again, louder this time, and I made a decision.

I plucked one of the mushrooms and took a tentative bite, the earthy taste filling my mouth.

It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t terrible either.

I ate another, and then another, until the ache in my stomach started to fade.

It was almost dark by the time I stopped walking.

The forest had grown thicker, the trees closer together, their branches intertwining overhead to block out most of the light.

I found another clearing, this one smaller than the one I’d slept in the night before. The ground was covered in soft moss, and I dropped my bag onto it with a sigh of relief.

I sat down, leaning back against the trunk of a tree, and tried to ignore the way my body ached. My feet throbbed, my muscles screamed, and my head felt like it was full of static.

But I’d survived another day.

For now, that was enough.

As the sky darkened, the forest came alive with sounds. Crickets chirped in the underbrush, their song blending with the occasional hoot of an owl. The wind rustled the leaves above, making the shadows dance across the ground.

I clutched my knife tightly, my fingers gripping the hilt so hard they started to cramp.

My mother’s voice echoed in my head: “You’re stronger than you know, Brielle.”

Was I, though?

I didn’t feel strong. I felt small. Alone.

But I wasn’t going back.

No matter how hard it got, no matter how scared I was, I wasn’t going back.

I woke with a start in the middle of the night, my heart racing.

Something had snapped: a branch, maybe,and the sound had jolted me awake.

I sat up, every nerve in my body on high alert, my eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

The forest was silent now, eerily so.

I gripped my knife tighter, the blade catching the faint glow of the moonlight that filtered through the trees.

“Hello?” I called out softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

No response.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, and I felt my pulse pounding in my ears.

I didn’t sleep again that night.

By the next morning, the exhaustion was almost unbearable.

My legs felt like lead, my feet raw and blistered. The hollow ache in my stomach had returned, stronger now, and my head throbbed with a dull, persistent pain.

But I kept moving.

I didn’t have a choice.

The day passed in a blur.

The forest all looked the same, no matter how far I walked. The same towering trees, the same moss-covered ground, the same patches of sunlight breaking through the canopy above.

It felt endless.

By mid-afternoon, my body was screaming at me to stop, but I forced myself to keep going.

I’d made it this far. I wasn’t going to quit now.

I found another stream later in the day, its water cool and refreshing against my parched throat.

As I crouched by the edge, drinking deeply, I caught sight of my reflection in the water.

I barely recognized myself.

My hair was tangled and matted, my face streaked with dirt and sweat. There were dark circles under my eyes, and my skin looked pale, almost ghostly.

I looked like someone who had been through hell.

And I wasn’t done yet.

That night, as I lay curled up beneath the branches of a fallen tree, I thought about the pack.

I thought about Kylie’s smirk, Sylvia’s cutting words, Liam’s cold indifference.

I thought about all the times I’d tried to prove myself, to show them that I was worth something.

And I thought about how it had never mattered.

No matter what I did, I was never going to be enough for them.

But out here, in the wilderness, none of that mattered.

The forest didn’t care who I was or what I’d done.

Out here, I wasn’t the Alpha’s defective daughter.

I wasn’t the girl who couldn’t shift.

I wasn’t a failure.

I was just… Brielle.

And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.