After that brief encounter, my mother refused to see me again, retreating into the shadows of the forest.
I told myself I wouldn’t care. I assured myself that her answers were unnecessary. But the silence she left behind echoed louder than any explanation.
Returning home felt strange. The den, once filled with warmth and laughter, now felt cold and hollow. My father’s absence weighed heavy in the air, like a storm cloud that wouldn’t break.
I stepped carefully through the den, half-expecting to hear his deep voice or the sound of his steady footsteps. But there was nothing. Only the quiet creak of the wooden floor beneath my feet.
The walls were still decorated with pieces of our history, a wolf pelt from a hunt he’d led, trophies from pack challenges that once symbolized our strength and unity.
But now, these trophies served as heavy reminders of what we had lost.
I traced my fingers over the rough texture of his old leather belt, hanging from a hook near the door. His scent lingered faintly, and for a moment, it felt like he was still with me.
My heart squeezed painfully. My father had always been our rock—the one who stood between us and the dangers of the world. He protected the pack and led us with strength and wisdom, and now he was gone.
And my mother had let it happen.
I wanted to believe there was some reason for it—some hidden truth I hadn’t uncovered yet—but every time I tried to approach her, she shut me out. Her coldness cut deeper than any weapon ever could.
I sought comfort in Damien. He had been by my side since we were pups—loyal and steady, even when the ground beneath us was crumbling. He understood my silence, never pushing me for more than I could give.
On the hardest nights, when sleep refused to come, Damien would sit with me beneath the stars. He’d hold my hand, letting the quiet night fill the space between us until my breathing slowed.
Three moons passed. The pack was still trying to find its footing without my father’s leadership, but life carried on. Damien and I decided it was time to take the next step—our sacred bond ceremony beneath the full moon.
The night before the ceremony, Damien and I sat beneath the ancient oak tree near the den. The moonlight filtered through the branches, casting soft shadows across his face.
He turned toward me, his dark eyes searching mine. “Aurora,” he said gently, “your mother is back now, but you still haven’t invited her to the ceremony.”
I stiffened.
He took my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Is the rift between you two still that deep?”
I sighed, leaning my head against his shoulder. “It’s not just a rift, Damien. It’s everything. My father was our protector, our strength. And then she said a few words, and he was gone.”
He was quiet for a moment, his arm tightening around me.
“Maybe there’s more to it,” he said softly. “Maybe she didn’t mean to hurt him. She lost him too, you know.”
I closed my eyes, trying to let his words sink in. I didn’t want to think about her pain. I was too caught up on my own.
“What if it’s not that simple?” I whispered. “What if she knew exactly what she was doing?”
He pulled back slightly, his dark brows furrowed. “Do you really believe that?”
I hesitated.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just… I want to know why.”
“Then maybe you need to ask her,” Damien said. “Not to accuse her—but to understand.”
His words lingered in the air, pressing against the walls I had built around my heart.
He brushed his fingers along my jaw, tilting my face toward his. “Whatever happened… you deserve answers.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Damien had always been my steady place. He was the one constant in my life, even when everything else crumbled.
And maybe he was right.
My mother was the only family I had left. If there was even a small chance of healing the distance between us, I had to try.
Filled with hesitation—and hope—I resolved to send her an invitation to our ceremony.
The next morning, I stood at the edge of the forest, clutching the small envelope in my hand. My fingers trembled as I walked toward the old path leading to her cabin.
The frost-covered leaves crunched beneath my boots. The air was sharp and cold, biting at my cheeks.
When I reached the cabin, I hesitated. Through the window, I saw her sitting near the fire, her long silver hair falling over her shoulders.
My heart pounded as I knocked lightly on the door.
After a long moment, the door creaked open.
My mother stood there, her gaze steady but unreadable. Her pale eyes flicked to the envelope in my hand.
“What is it?” Her voice was calm, but her expression gave nothing away.
I held the envelope out toward her. “It’s an invitation. Damien and I are bonding tomorrow night.”
She took the envelope, studying it like it might burn her fingers.
“I… I want you to be there,” I said.
Her gaze lifted to mine. I saw something flicker there—surprise, maybe even pain—but it was gone in an instant.
For a moment, I thought she might refuse.
Then, to my surprise, she said, “I’ll think about it.”
It wasn’t much. But it was something.
As I walked back toward the den, the cold air stinging my cheeks, I realized my heart felt a little lighter.
I didn’t know if my mother would come.
But at least I had reached out.
