THE ROGUE LORD'S OBSESSION

IN THE WILD DREAM "Dream, what are you doing? We don't know him. Let's just go back home. It's already night and we haven't even reached the pack borders." My cousin Luina grabbed my hand, her fingers digging into my wrist. Her voice was tight with fear, the way it always got when she sensed trouble. And Luina always sensed trouble. I looked past her, toward the clearing where a man lay crumpled against the roots of an old oak tree. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths. Even from this distance, I could see the blood—dark and glistening in the fading moonlight. "We cannot, Lui. He might die if we do." "He might die anyway," she hissed. "And we might die with him if we get too close. Look at him, Dream. Really look." I forced myself to study him the way she did. The way a wolf would. I hated that I had to try so hard. A silver gun holstered at his hip. Knives strapped to his waist—three of them, at least. Black leather clothing that looked expensive and foreign. His boots were caked with mud, but the leather beneath was fine, well-made. This was not a man who belonged to any pack I knew. "He seems dangerous," Luina whispered. "He is dangerous. I can feel it." My eyes widened. I had noticed none of those details. I had only seen the wound. The blood. The dying man. "That's exactly why we have to help him," I said, pulling my hand free. "He's hurt, Lui. Badly. If we leave him here, he dies. And I can't—" I stopped, swallowing hard. "I can't just watch someone die." She exhaled, a long, defeated sound. "I hope I won't regret this." "I promise. You won't." I didn't know then how wrong I would be. --- I ran to him, leaving Luina to follow. The closer I got, the worse it looked. The wound was a deep, jagged hole in his chest, blood bubbling with each labored breath. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle, clearly broken. His skin was pale beneath the grime and blood—too pale. I put down my basket of herbs and reached for him. His body was heavy, dead weight, but I managed to turn him onto his back. He coughed, and blood sprayed across his lips. His scent hit me then. It was strange. Unfamiliar. Not like the clean, earthy scent of pack wolves. Not like the sour, reeking stench of the rogues who sometimes wandered too close to our borders. This was something else entirely. Something that I couldn't name but it stirred something in me. I shook off the feeling and focused on the wound. His black leather jacket was ruined, the white shirt beneath torn and soaked with blood. I pulled the fabric apart to see the damage. "What are you doing, little wolf?" His voice was deep, rough, and utterly calm. It froze me for a moment. Then I forced myself to breathe, to remember why I was here. "So you're awake?" I said, ignoring his question. "Tell me quickly where it hurts. I'll help you." He stared at me silently. His eyes were dark, almost black, and there was something in them that made my skin crawl. "My chest," he said finally. "My arm." I nodded. "Come closer with the torch, Lui." She obeyed, her hands trembling as she held the flame steady. I examined the wound more carefully and my stomach dropped. Silver bullets. Three of them, lodged deep in his chest. The tissue around them was already blackening, poisoned by the silver's touch. If I didn't remove them soon, the poison would spread. If I removed them wrong, he would bleed out before I could close the wound. "You seem confused, little wolf." His voice was soft, almost amused. "If you know what's good for you, you'll run right away." I stared at him for a long moment. Then I returned to his wound. "Get ready," I said. "It's going to hurt like hell." I took the healer's purse from my belt and opened it beside him. I inspected the clean old tools—pincers, needles, thread, and the small vials of paste and powder I had prepared myself. His hand twitched toward the purse. Toward the silver instruments inside. I smacked his hand away. "Be quiet." Luina chuckled nervously behind me. I took out the pincers and carefully introduced them into the wound. The first bullet came out. I braced myself for a growl, a scream, anything. Instead, his teeth ground together, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the sky above. The only sign of pain was the white-knuckled grip of his good hand on the grass beneath him. Then the second bullet. Then the third. I was baffled by his courage. Most wolves would have screamed and passed out by now. He lay there as if he were simply waiting for the pain to pass, as if it were an old friend he had learned to tolerate. After the last bullet, the bleeding worsened. His blood pressure was dropping—I could see it in the pallor of his brown skin, the way his breathing had become shallow and rapid. "Can we really save him?" Luina's small voice reached me. "He's losing too much blood." "Let's just try our best." I was beginning to doubt my own abilities. But doubt wouldn't save him. Only action would. "Give me the blue fern paste I mixed earlier. We'll use it to slow the bleeding." She obeyed, pressing the small jar into my hand. I applied the paste carefully, watching as the blood began to coagulate. Then I found the broken vein—severed by one of the bullets—and stitched it with steady hands. Finally, I introduced a healing plant to the wound, filling up the hole and sutured it closed. Twice, for good measure. It was going to leave a scar on his smooth brown skin but it was better than death. "Do you think he has a chance?" "I believe so." "You are incredibly courageous, little pup." I frowned, tying off the last stitch. "Why do you keep referring to me as a pup?" "Because you are one." Without warning, I twisted his dislocated arm back into place. He groaned—the first real sound of pain he had made. "Does that look like something a little pup can do?" He chuckled, a low, rough sound that didn't match the blood still staining his lips. I tied his broken arm with the torn remnants of my robe, my fingers working quickly despite my irritation. "I hope you make it," I whispered, packing my things. "I'll make it. And I'll come find you, little one." I paused. What a strange thing to say. How would he find me if he didn't even know my pack? How would he find me if he didn't even know my name? "No need to come find me, sir. As long as you're okay, I'm glad." He was silent for a moment. Then: "Do two last things for me." "What?" "First, anything to eat. Second, don't tell anyone you saw me." I exhaled. Then I reached into my basket and pulled out the honey cake I had been craving all day. My stomach protested as I handed it over. "You're giving him the cake you craved so badly?" Luina protested. "Well, we have to save him." He took the cake from my hands, his fingers brushing mine. The touch was brief, but it sent a strange shiver up my spine. Something in his eyes shifted—softened, almost. Then it was gone. "Thank you, little wolf." I nodded, not trusting my voice. Then I stood, shouldering my basket. "We should go," Luina said, already backing away. "Please, Dream. Before someone finds us." I looked down at the stranger one last time. He was watching me with those dark, knowing eyes. "I have a bad feeling," Luina whispered as we walked away. "It'll stay a feeling," I replied, "as long as you don't tell anyone we saw anyone weird on the way and we helped him." She didn't answer. But I could feel her worry like a weight between us. Distance away I turned one last time to check at the stranger. He sat up and stared at us as we left. How could he seat up so easily?