Chapter9
1042 Words
Linda woke determined.
No water.
No freezing.
No accidental hypothermia.
She walked into the kitchen to find Mira already pouring tea.
“Morning,” Mira said carefully, like she was checking for cracks.
Linda grabbed a mug. “I have a plan.”
Talia appeared in the doorway. “That sounds suspicious.”
Linda pointed at her. “No water.”
“Agreed,” Evan said immediately from the window.
Linda narrowed her eyes. “You all act like I jumped into the Arctic.”
“You basically did,” Talia replied.
Linda ignored her and leaned against the counter.
“Instead,” she continued, “how about something normal? Like frisbee. Or tag. Or literally anything that doesn’t involve freezing to death.”
Mira blinked. “Frisbee.”
“Yes. It’s round. You throw it. You catch it. Very revolutionary.”
Talia grinned. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” Linda said, “you’re considering it.”
Evan actually turned from the window this time. “There’s a clearing behind the cabin. Open space.”
Linda snapped her fingers. “Perfect.”
The bond pulsed faintly.
Steady.
Present.
She ignored it.
The clearing behind the cabin was wide enough for movement but ringed with trees close enough to feel watched.
Linda chose not to think about that part.
Evan found an old frisbee in the storage chest on the side of the cabin. Slightly scuffed. Perfect.
Linda took it and held it up dramatically.
“Alright. New rule. No one uses supernatural speed.”
Talia laughed. “You’re setting yourself up.”
“Level playing field,” Linda insisted.
Mira shrugged. “We can try.”
They spaced out loosely across the clearing.
Linda threw first.
It wobbled.
Badly.
Talia caught it easily anyway.
“Show-off,” Linda muttered.
They settled into rhythm quickly.
Throw.
Catch.
Laugh.
Tease.
Linda moved more this time — running short distances, adjusting, diving slightly for low catches. She wasn’t as fast as them.
But she was stubborn.
And competitive.
“Evan, if you leap like that again I’m revoking privileges,” she called.
He smirked. “Define privileges.”
“Snacks.”
He sobered instantly. “Understood.”
From the tree line—
Nick watched again.
He told himself it was perimeter patrol.
It wasn’t.
The bond hummed low in his chest — calmer now, but alert.
She moved like she belonged here.
Not like prey.
Not like someone waiting to be handled.
Mira launched one higher than expected.
Linda took off.
“Linda—” Evan warned.
Too late.
She dove.
Full commitment. Arms outstretched.
She caught the frisbee mid-air and hit the grass hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs — then rolled onto her back laughing.
“I thought I was Supergirl!” she called to the sky.
Talia groaned. “You are absolutely insufferable.”
Nick’s jaw tightened at the edge of the trees.
His wolf surged at the impact.
But she was laughing.
Not fragile.
Not afraid.
Alive.
Linda sprang back up with grass in her hair and a grin that dared the world to argue.
“Next throw!” she demanded.
The game resumed.
Mira sent one slightly wide again.
Linda lunged without hesitation.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the frisbee.
Her foot caught uneven ground.
And this time she went down wrong.
Not dramatic. Not violent.
Just momentum and gravity — and a sharp exhale as she rolled onto her side.
The clearing froze.
Nick moved before he could stop himself.
Two steps out of the trees—
Then he forced himself slower, controlled, measured.
Evan reached her first.
“You okay?” he asked quickly.
Linda blinked up at the sky.
“Yep,” she said after a beat.
She pushed herself up slowly.
There was dirt on her sweater.
And a small scrape along her palm.
Nothing serious.
But the scent changed.
Subtle.
Metallic.
Nick stepped into the clearing this time.
Not charging.
Not claiming.
Just present — a few feet away, eyes fixed on her hand.
“It’s nothing,” Linda said before he could speak.
He stopped, close enough to see. Not close enough to touch.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s called skin,” she replied. “It breaks sometimes.”
Talia snorted.
Nick ignored her.
His eyes were dark — not angry.
Concerned.
That unsettled him more than rage would have.
“You don’t watch your footing,” he said.
“You’re not my coach.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not.”
The words carried more weight than they should have.
Linda stood fully now, brushed dirt from her leggings, and held his gaze.
“It’s a scratch,” she repeated. “Relax.”
The bond pulsed again.
Not violent.
Not painful.
Just… aware.
Nick inhaled slowly.
Her scent shifted when she bled.
His wolf hated it.
“She needs antiseptic,” he said to Mira.
“We have it,” Mira replied calmly.
Linda rolled her eyes. “You all are dramatic.”
Nick’s gaze snapped back to hers.
“You think falling is funny?”
Linda held his gaze.
And this time, she didn’t soften.
She didn’t shrink.
“If I’m that careful all the time, I’m not living. I’m just playing it safe.” She held Nick’s gaze.
The words landed.
Nick studied her for a long moment.
She wasn’t reckless.
She was alive.
And there was a difference.
He stepped back half a pace.
“Stay in the clearing,” he said.
Linda lifted the frisbee slightly.
“We’re playing catch,” she said. “I promise I won’t disappear into the abyss.”
He didn’t argue.
Didn’t retreat fully either.
Just turned slightly — hovering at the edge, as if deciding what he was allowed to be.
The others resumed slowly.
Talia tossed the frisbee again, lighter this time.
Linda caught it with both hands.
“See?” she called toward Nick. “Functional.”
His mouth almost twitched.
Almost.
He stayed at the edge of the clearing.
Not intervening.
Just watching.
And the bond—
Didn’t rage.
Didn’t hurt.
It simply stretched between them like a thread pulled tight but not snapping.
For now—
That was enough.
- Writer
