Dawn on Snowbound Instincts
1682 Words
Holly woke to silence.
Not the kind born of peace, but that strange deep quiet that only comes after a heavy snowfall. The storm had softened sometime during the night, leaving the world still, muffled, and white beyond the cabin windows. The fire had burned low, glowing embers casting faint amber light across the room.
She blinked sleepily from the couch where she’d dozed off reading and realized Rowan wasn’t inside.
Her heart gave a strange, unbidden flutter of concern.
“He’s probably just… checking things,” she whispered to herself, brushing her hair out of her face. “Alpha things. Wolf things. Whatever things he does.”
Still, she wrapped her arms around herself, uneasy until she heard the faint crunch of snow outside the door.
A moment later, the door pushed open and Rowan stepped inside, cold air spilling around him before he shut it again. His cheeks and jaw were dusted with frost, his hair mussed by the wind, but his eyes—green and alert—swept the room instinctively, checking her first.
Always checking her.
“Morning,” Holly said, trying for casual but feeling suddenly warm under his gaze.
Rowan nodded and brushed snow off his shoulders. “You’re awake early.”
“Couldn’t sleep. The storm stopped.”
Rowan glanced toward the window, nostrils flaring faintly. “Too early to tell if it’s really done. But… calmer, yes.”
Holly stepped closer, hesitated, then pointed toward the pan on the stove. “I tried to make breakfast but it turns out I don’t know how to cook on a wood-burning stove. So, uh… I made warm juice.”
He blinked.
“It was supposed to be tea,” she admitted.
A faint smile tugged at Rowan’s lips—barely there, but real. “I’ll make breakfast.”
He moved past her, and Holly had to force herself to breathe normally. The warmth radiating from him was ridiculous. He’d been outside in the snow, but he didn’t feel cold—ever. She wondered if that was a wolf thing or a Rowan thing.
She sat on the edge of the couch and watched him work, his movements efficient, controlled. There was a strength in him she didn’t fully understand—a heaviness behind his presence, his silence, the way he carried himself.
“You were gone early,” Holly said lightly. “Everything okay?”
Rowan’s jaw flexed. “Perimeter check. Making sure… things stayed quiet.”
“Things like…?” She nudged gently.
His eyes flicked toward the window again. “The rogue was here overnight.”
“Oh.” Holly’s heartbeat ticked faster. “Is she… close?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Close enough that Asher didn’t like it.”
“Asher?”
“My wolf.” The words came out softer, almost reluctant.
Holly looked at him, eyes wide. “He has a name?”
Rowan paused mid-motion. “All wolves do.”
She flushed faintly. “Sorry. I didn’t know. I—I guess it makes sense.”
His shoulders eased a fraction. “Asher’s… protective. Especially when something unfamiliar comes near the cabin.”
“…like the rogue?”
“Yes.”
Holly bit her lip. “You still don’t think she’s dangerous, right?”
“No,” Rowan admitted. “But that doesn’t mean she’s safe, either. Newly shifted wolves can be unpredictable.”
Holly stole a glance toward the window. Snow piled high around the cabin walls, tree branches sagging under the weight. For a moment she thought she saw movement between the trees—soft, subtle.
“She was watching again,” Holly whispered. “Yesterday. I could feel it.”
Rowan turned, instantly alert. “You felt it?”
Heat crept up Holly’s neck. “I mean—not literally felt it. Just… I noticed. That’s all.”
Rowan didn’t look convinced.
Asher stirred behind his eyes, pushing, wanting answers Holly didn’t have. Rowan clenched his jaw slightly, holding the wolf back.
He plated their breakfast—eggs and whatever leftovers they’d had—and set hers in front of her. Holly smiled and murmured a soft “thank you,” her chest warming at the tiny domestic moment.
They ate quietly, but Holly felt Rowan watching her in a way that wasn’t intrusive—just… aware. Protective. Almost searching.
As if he sensed something about her that she didn’t.
When she finished eating, she stood to stretch, her gaze drifting toward the window again.
That’s when she saw her.
The rogue wolf sat just beyond the tree line—closer than she’d ever dared come before.
Her coat was silver and white, blending with the snow. Her ears forward, posture alert. Her eyes—warm amber—were locked not on Rowan this time…
…but on Holly.
A strange sensation washed over her—warmth and sorrow and curiosity all tangled together. Riley pricked at her skin, heat pulsing low in her belly for no logical reason.
“Holly?” Rowan’s voice was low, careful.
“I see her,” she whispered.
Rowan came to stand beside her, body radiating heat. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t need to. His presence was a shield. A barrier.
Asher pressed forward inside him, muscles tensing.
But Holly didn’t feel fear.
She felt something else. Something she couldn’t name. Something she refused to name.
“She doesn’t look dangerous,” Holly murmured. “She looks… lost.”
Rowan’s breath tightened. “Instincts aren’t always visible.”
Holly swallowed. “Then why do I keep getting this strange feeling when she’s near?”
Rowan stiffened.
Asher surged forward, growling inside him.
He inhaled sharply, controlled, warning himself more than her. “What kind of feeling?”
“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Like… I should know her. Or help her. Or—something. I’m probably just going crazy from being stuck here.”
Rowan’s reaction was immediate—and subtle. His eyes darkened, his frame tensing, his wolf clawing beneath the surface at her words.
“You’re not going crazy,” he said quietly. Too quietly.
Holly turned to him. “What does that mean?”
Rowan swallowed once, hard. “It means instincts are rarely wrong. Even human ones.”
She opened her mouth to ask more, but Rowan moved toward the door suddenly, posture stiff.
“Stay inside,” he said firmly.
“Rowan—”
“Holly.” His voice dropped. “Please.”
She froze, breath caught.
He didn’t command her. He didn’t pull rank. But there was something raw in his voice—fear? Instinct? Something deeper?
Before she could respond, Rowan stepped outside, disappearing into the snow.
Holly watched his retreating form, watched the rogue wolf shift her attention from her… to him.
And deep in Holly’s chest—beneath logic, beneath fear—something stirred again.
Something ancient.
Something she couldn’t explain.
She pressed her palm against her heart.
Cabin fever, she told herself.
But she didn’t believe it.
Not anymore.
Dawn pressed weakly through the shutters of Rowan’s cabin, turning the frost on the windowpanes a soft, glowing gold. The storm had eased sometime in the night, leaving behind a brittle stillness that felt too fragile to disturb.
Rowan stood at the edge of the treeline, arms folded, breath clouding in the cold. Beneath his calm surface, Asher paced restlessly.
She’s fine, Rowan reminded his wolf for the fifth time in as many minutes.
She’s alone, Asher pushed back, a low growl vibrating in Rowan’s chest. And she’s ours.
Rowan scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re not helping.”
Behind him, snow crunched. Dustin approached with long, purposeful strides, Serena shadowing him, her eyes sharp and tired. They had arrived before sunrise—unwilling to wait any longer for their Alpha to return.
“You’ve been gone for days,” Dustin said without preamble. “Half the pack is pacing holes in the floor.”
“And the other half thinks you were dragged off by a feral rogue,” Serena added, though there was a teasing lilt under her worry.
Rowan exhaled slowly. “There’s no feral rogue.”
Dustin’s brows shot up. “The scent trail we caught disagrees.”
“It’s a rogue,” Rowan clarified, “but not feral. Young. Cautious. She hasn’t made a single aggressive move.”
Serena crossed her arms. “Non-feral rogues don’t just wander into Alpha territory. Especially not in the middle of a blizzard.”
Rowan didn't disagree—but he couldn’t shake the nagging tug of something familiar about the rogue girl. Skittish, silent, keeping her distance… but not malicious.
Not a threat.
Not to him.
Not to Holly.
The thought tightened his heartbeat.
Dustin stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Rowan… this isn’t like you. Sleeping away from the pack. Staying hidden for days. Your wolf’s energy feels all over the place—”
“I’m fine.” A lie both wolves could smell.
Serena’s gaze softened. “Is it the girl?”
Rowan’s jaw flexed. “Her name is Holly.”
Our mate, Asher whispered, a rumble of possessive heat, but Rowan pushed him down before the word could slip out.
His Beta and Gamma didn’t need that information yet.
Not when everything surrounding Holly felt so impossibly fragile.
Not when she didn’t even know what she was.
Rowan looked out toward the cabin where she slept, unaware of the world sharpening its claws around her.
“We move carefully,” he said. “About Holly. About the rogue. About everything. No one makes a move without me.”
Dustin and Serena shared a look—but nodded.
The morning air was cold enough to bite, but Rowan felt something else beneath it. Something shifting. Something beginning.
Snow whispered across the ground as the wind changed direction, carrying with it a faint, unfamiliar scent.
Serena caught it first. “The rogue’s on the move again.”
Rowan’s pulse kicked.
And somewhere inside him, Asher lifted his head—
Ready. Watching. Waiting.
- Writer
