Wildborn

Completely Herself

Bri slipped back into a steady rhythm.

Mornings began with strength and conditioning; sprints, lifts, balance drills that left her muscles burning and her wolf thrumming with satisfaction. Combat training followed in the Pit, steel ringing beneath barked commands. By afternoon she traded the arena for Ivy’s cottage, studying herbs and tinctures beside the fire.

Routine steadied her. It gave her purpose.

But by midweek a restless edge crept in. Combat and healing filled part of her, not all of it. Her body missed the clean rhythm of a ball striking polished wood.

Lunebrook tryouts were only a month away.

After drills on Wednesday, she spotted Beta Antonio reviewing training rosters on his tablet.

“Sir,” Bri said, “is there somewhere I could practice basketball? Just drills. I don’t want to lose touch before tryouts.”

Antonio looked up, one brow arched. “Basketball?”

She smiled faintly. “It’s my thing.”

He chuckled. “North wing. Full indoor court. Sign your name on the reservation board outside the gym doors and it’s yours.”

“You have a basketball court here?”

“Don’t underestimate Umbral Dawn’s competitive streak,” he said with a grin.

Bri thanked him and headed that way.

The north wing opened into a glass-lined corridor. At the end, double doors embossed with the pack crest marked the Indoor Athletics Complex. A sleek board beside them listed reservations by hour.

Most slots were empty.

She slid her name into an open block the next evening.

The following night, Bri pushed through the gym doors just after sundown.

The court was pristine. Polished maple gleamed beneath soft overhead lights, silver-lined boundaries cutting across the floor. Bleachers lined either side and a balcony viewing deck wrapped the upper level.

It felt almost sacred.

Bri dropped her bag, laced her shoes, and dribbled once. The echo rang through the empty court like a heartbeat she hadn’t realized she missed. She moved through drills, crossovers, drives, free throws, the ball snapping through the net in steady rhythm. Sweat gathered at her temples, the familiar cadence clearing her thoughts.

She was mid-shot when the door opened.

Bri turned.

Soriah crossed the court, duffel slung over her shoulder, her dark braid catching the light.

“Didn’t expect anyone to reserve the gym,” Soriah said.

“Guess we had the same idea,” Bri replied.

Soriah nodded toward the hoop. “Clean release. Shooting guard, right?”

“Mostly. Sometimes forward.”

Soriah scooped up the ball Bri had let roll away and dribbled once. “You favor your right drive. Strong, but predictable if someone studies you.”

She’s been studying you all week, Eira observed.

Bri grinned. “So you’re scouting me already?”

“I’m next season’s captain,” Soriah said evenly, passing the ball back. “Habit.”

Bri sank another shot. “Any advice for someone trying to make the team?”

“Consistency,” Soriah said, sinking her own shot cleanly. “And control your breathing. It’ll carry you when adrenaline won’t.”

“Noted.”

A quiet ease settled between them.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot on your plate tomorrow,” Bri said after a moment.

“The garden party,” Soriah said with a faint sigh. “Mostly political theater.”

“Well, if you need help coordinating things, let me know.”

Soriah studied her. “Why?”

“Your boyfriend’s coming home,” Bri said simply. “You should enjoy the night.”

A brief pause.

“That might actually be a nice change of pace,” Soriah admitted. Then her tone softened. “Everyone assumes we’re together,” she said quietly. “We are, but we're not. We grew up side by side. He’s my best friend. That might be all unless our wolves agree to be chosen mates.”

“That must get exhausting.”

“It does,” Soriah said. “But pretending keeps things simple, and can be mutually beneficial.”

“Well,” Bri said with a grin, “let me help give you one evening where you won’t have to pretend to be enjoying yourself.”

Soriah’s lips curved faintly. “We’ll see.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

When she left, Bri caught movement from above.

A silhouette leaned casually against the upper balcony railing, watching.

Her wolf likes you, Eira murmured. Nashehni. She-who-runs-with-embers.

Halfway there then, Bri replied.

She sank her final shot of the night.

And somewhere above, she swore she heard a quiet clap.

Friday dawned warm and golden, the kind of late-summer morning that begged for open air. All scheduled commitments were suspended for those helping with the garden party, with Bri reporting later to coordinate in Soriah’s place.

Even with permission to sleep in, she woke before dawn. Restless energy pulled her outside.

She put on her shoes and jogged toward the forest trails she’d explored her first free night. The path wound upward through dew-damp ferns, sunlight spilling through the canopy as the world stirred awake.

The waterfall pools greeted her like an old friend. Mist rose in the early light, gold against stone. She stripped to her sports bra and shorts, diving into the cool water with a gasp, the chill biting and pure.

Eira stirred within her mind, stretching like a yawn. Why are we moving before dawn, hmm?

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bri murmured, floating on her back.

After a few laps, she climbed onto her favorite sun-warmed rock and lay back, eyes half-closed, listening to the waterfall’s steady rhythm.

Then Eira’s voice sharpened. We’re not alone.

Bri sat up instantly. The forest had gone still, too still. A shadow moved among the trees.

It stepped into view, and she caught her breath.

A massive white wolf, fur like new snow, eyes pitch black. Beautiful. Unsettling. Its presence thrummed with quiet power.

He’s trying to mind-link you, Eira murmured. Wants to know who you are. But we haven’t been brought into the pack bond yet, so we need to pretend you can’t hear.

The wolf tilted its head, studying her, curiosity rippling through its stance. Bri froze, unsure what to do. When he tilted his head again, sharp, inquisitive, like a puppy seeing its own reflection, she couldn’t help herself. She laughed.

The wolf’s ears flattened. With a low huff that sounded suspiciously like offense, he turned and vanished back into the trees.

Eira sighed. Well done. You’ve irritated something three times your size.

“Great,” Bri muttered. “Hope he wasn’t anyone important.”

Oh, I’m sure he was.

By the time Bri returned, the grounds buzzed with activity. Tables were being arranged, flower arches woven, lanterns strung between trees. She barely made it to her room before Sera appeared, arms full of garment bags she was handing off to an Omega.

“There you are,” Sera said. “Perfect timing. You, me, salon. Now.”

“Salon?”

Sera grinned. “Pre-party prep. Luna's orders.”

Within half an hour, they were seated in the pack’s private salon, a haven of pale marble, lavender scent, and soft gold light.

The stylist circled Bri thoughtfully. “First curl cut?”

Bri nodded. “First one not done by me and dull scissors.”

Sera laughed. “Welcome to the world of high-maintenance curls.”

The stylist trimmed Bri’s long, wild hair, thick waves that fell to her waist, up to a more reasonable mid-back length, adding soft layers throughout and one that framed her face. She taught Bri how to use a curl comb, define sections, and diffuse for bounce. Bri’s hair, naturally blonde, shimmered faintly silver under the overhead lights, something it always did under moonlight. No matter how much anyone brushed or pinned, it refused to be tamed, curling rebelliously in every direction but breathtaking nonetheless.

“Your hair’s a storm and sunlight mix,” the stylist said with a smile.

Sera grinned. “Just like her.”

Makeup came next, soft and ethereal. The salon owner, a woman with years of quiet authority, worked with precision, blending pale shimmer across Bri’s lids and a faint pink flush along her cheeks. “Victoria’s Secret angel,” she murmured. “That’s the goal.”

As she leaned closer to apply eyeliner, her gaze lingered. “Your eyes are extraordinary.”

Bri flushed. “I—thank you.”

“Truly,” the woman continued. “One storm blue, one glacial. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

People commenting on her heterochromia wasn’t new to Bri, but the admiration still flustered her. When she finally turned toward the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. Confident. Poised. Beautiful.

Beside her, Sera’s deep espresso curls tumbled in perfect waves, half-pinned in a braided crown. “Not bad,” she teased.

“Not bad yourself, princess.”

They laughed, easy and light.

On the drive back to the packhouse, the air between them was companionable silence at first. Gamma Matteo drove, his steady presence grounding the world outside. The forest blurred past the windows in streaks of green and gold.

Bri glanced over. “Thank you … for all this. You didn’t have to.”

Sera smiled softly. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” Bri insisted. “You’ve been kind since the day I arrived. You didn’t treat me like the new girl. You treated me like … ”

“A friend?” Sera finished gently.

Bri nodded. “A real one.”

For a moment, something flickered behind Sera’s expression, something vulnerable. “You’d be surprised how rare that is. Most people who want to be my friend want something else. Access. Proximity. Favors.” She paused. “You don’t.”

“Of course not,” Bri said. “I like you for you.”

They smiled at each other, and then, realizing they were getting dangerously sentimental, both looked away at the same time.

“Okay,” Sera said, clearing her throat. “Enough sap. You’ll ruin our mascara.”

Gamma Matteo’s eyes caught theirs briefly in the rear-view mirror, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Back at the packhouse, the Omega attendants had already prepared Sera’s room for dressing. Stepping inside her room was breathtaking. Light oak floors and silver-veined walls glowed beneath soft lilac curtains. Photographs lined her dresser, her with her parents, her with what she assumed was her brother, Kai, some with Soriah, Kai, and who she recognized as Dominic, and even her and the basketball team. It was opulent but personal, a portrait of a life rich with connection.

Three dresses waited near the mirror. “Courtesy of the Luna,” Sera said, motioning for Bri to try them.

The first, a red, form-fitting midi dress with spaghetti straps and a slit high on the thigh. Gorgeous, daring, but too bold for her first party within the pack. She didn't want to draw too much attention to herself.

The second, black, elegant and regal, a floor-length gown with cap sleeves and a shimmered tulle overlay. A bit too reserved for a garden party event.

Then came the emerald green.

Mid-calf length made of velvet that seemed alive under the light, deep as forest shade and warm as firelight. The sleeveless dress had an open back all the way down to her lower waist traced, with delicate lacework shaped like ivy leaves. The neckline dipped just enough to be daring without excess, and it hugged her athletic curves perfectly.

Sera clapped once. “That’s the one.”

When Bri turned toward the mirror, even she couldn’t argue.

Sera’s own gown shimmered in sparkling gray-silver, a slim A-line that glowed like starlight. A tiara of platinum and moonstones crowned her braids.

“Wow,” Bri breathed. “You look… royal.”

“I am,” Sera said playfully, then softened. “But tonight, you look it as well.”

Omegas fluttered around them, fixing hems, adding jewelry, spritzing perfume, and a final touch of pairing Bri's outfit with some beautiful crystal rope strappy gold heels. When they finally stepped back, both girls stood side by side, radiant reflections of different worlds converging.

“Ready?” Sera asked.

“More than ready.”

They linked arms and stepped out into the evening.

The path to the gardens glowed with lanterns strung through ivy arches. Music drifted through the warm summer air, and laughter spilled easily between them.

At the bottom of the steps, Sera squeezed her arm and headed toward her family, while Bri turned toward the coordinator’s table to report for duty, smiling, heart steady, and for the first time since arriving in Umbral Dawn, completely herself.