Torn Between Two Wolves

The following dawn arrived beneath a pale sky, and I rose before the first horn sounded across the pack lands. It was my turn to serve at the healer’s hut near the western ridge, so I left early and did not wait for Theron to stir beside the hearth. After the council meeting ended at midday, a messenger brought word that he sought me through mindlink. His thoughts reached mine with a faint edge of irritation. Mira, why did you not wake me at dawn? You left the den without warning, and I overslept. Once, I had tended to him with utmost devotion. After our bond was sealed beneath the full moon and the elders marked our union with sacred oil and moonstone, I rose before him each day. I laid out his tunic and cloak, prepared his meal over the fire, and sent him a gentle mind-call so he would not miss his duties. I believed such care was the duty of a loyal mate. Yet his tone now carried expectation, as though my devotion were nothing more than an obligation etched into the earth. As if love were a task assigned to me alone. But I was never his servant—I was his wife by oath. I had every right to refuse. “If you will be late, then rise quickly,” I replied through the bond. He asked again, What shall I wear to the gathering today? “Choose any garments you prefer. They hang in the cedar chest,” I answered. “But I cannot find—” A healer summoned me for assistance at that moment, so I cut the link short. “I must attend to my duties. Search for them yourself.” Not long after, his voice pressed into my thoughts again. The shirts are wrinkled. Have you not pressed them? I cannot stand before the pack in such condition. Then came another complaint. And no meal has been prepared? Before I could respond, the pack’s chief healer called me into his chamber. “Mira,” he said warmly, “your strength has returned. The Moon Goddess smiles upon you. The High Council wishes to speak regarding advanced training in the northern territories.” I had once declined such an opportunity, believing I would soon bear Theron’s heir and remain within our den. But that dream had crumbled like dry leaves under frost. Building a family with him no longer felt sacred—it felt hollow. Remaining beside him seemed not merely futile, but unwise. “I have reconsidered,” I told the healer with steady resolve. “I will accept.” He smiled with approval. “A wise path.” He instructed me to prepare for departure once the moon cycle was confirmed. His encouragement strengthened my heart. Perhaps this was the beginning of a life shaped by my own will, not by another’s shadow. Work carried me through the day like flowing river water. When at last darkness cloaked the forest, I remained inside the hall sorting parchments. Only when Theron’s mind-call reached me did I realize how late it had grown. Why have you not returned? Where is the evening meal? The thought of stepping back into the den beside him filled me with unease. I chose instead to remain and finish my tasks. “My duties shifted unexpectedly,” I answered calmly through the link. “I shall eat here this night. You may hunt or prepare your own supper.” Here? His thoughts carried surprise. In former times, leaving him without a prepared feast would have been unthinkable. I had tended every fire, every meal, three times a day. “Is there trouble?” he asked. “No,” I replied. “Only work.” After a pause, he spoke again, softer this time. Do not exhaust yourself. “Thank you,” I answered without warmth. Silence lingered between us before he finally asked, Mira… are you displeased with me? The question arrived late, like a wolf sensing a scent long after it has faded. A spark stirred within me—something close to anger, yet deeper than that. It was disappointment, quiet and enduring. Did he truly fail to see my feelings, or had he simply never cared to look? It no longer mattered. I would not carry resentment any longer. The moon would guide me elsewhere, and my heart would follow its light without him.

In a tone softened by ritual humility, Theron chose to speak through the mindlink first. Mira, Isolde struggles to rear her cub alone. She knows no kin here. Among this territory, I am her only ally. His words struck like the edge of a blade. He seemed to forget that, in truth, I too had only him since the day our bonds were sealed beneath the silver moon. “I understand,” I replied quietly through the link. “She has endured much.” Mira, what do you mean by that? Why do you sound so— “I said I understand,” I repeated, my thoughts growing colder, stripped of warmth. “Is that not enough?” Must you answer me so sharply? “Then what would you have me say?” I asked, frustration threading through my voice. For a moment, the bond between us went still. The silence felt heavy, like a storm gathering beyond the forest. At last, he muttered, Do as you please, before severing the mindlink. How ironic it was. Once, when I asked why he visited Isolde’s dwelling near the eastern pines, he called me troublesome. When I sought to know when he would return from her side, he accused me of clinging too tightly. And now, even my effort to understand him drew his ire. With a quiet exhale, I set the rune-stone aside. Worrying would not mend the fracture between us. There were still scrolls to copy and records to complete before the council’s inspection. When the night watch concluded, I remained behind to sweep the hall and extinguish the hearth fires. Returning to the den felt unnecessary, almost burdensome. By the time I reached home, Theron had already departed for his duties with the warriors. I cleansed myself with water drawn from the well and lay down upon the furs, hoping for rest. Yet just as sleep began to claim me, the stillness shattered by the sharp chime of the signal bell beside the bed. It was Theron’s mind reaching mine. Mira, he pressed, his thoughts strained, my… my belly aches. I murmured a response, though exhaustion weighed heavily upon me. Before I could rise, sleep dragged me under once more. In my dreams, I thought I heard him calling my name across the woods, but the sound faded like mist at dawn, and I let it drift away. Later, the door creaked open. I awoke to find Theron standing by the furs, his expression drawn and pained. “Mira, why have you grown so distant? In the past, when illness struck me, you would rush to my side with broth and herbs. You would sit through the night until my fever broke.” Those memories were etched clearly within me. Once, when he suffered from stomach pain, I sought leave from the healer and carried remedies to his training grounds. On the journey, rain fell without mercy, soaking my hair and cloak until I appeared unworthy of a mate. His companions laughed at my disheveled state. Theron did not silence them. Instead, he later told me never to appear before his warriors again, claiming I brought him shame. “Are you feeling better now?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Our herb pouch may be empty. You might gather more from the healer at dawn.” For a heartbeat, he stared at me without speaking. Then anger flared in his eyes. Gripping my arm, he demanded, Mira, how long will you persist in quarreling over Isolde? I swear upon the Moonstone, there is nothing between us! I met his gaze calmly. “Very well.” My composed reply only deepened his fury. With a harsh movement, he stormed out of the den, the door striking the wooden frame behind him. When the echo faded, an unfamiliar peace settled over the chamber. The silence felt lighter than his presence had ever been.

Days passed like fading seasons beneath the shifting moon. After that night, Theron did not return to our den for several days, and I did not summon him through mindlink nor send a messenger to seek him. The silence between us felt no longer heavy—only distant. On the third day, his thoughts brushed mine briefly. He claimed he was journeying with the pack to settle trade matters beyond our territory and even sent word of his whereabouts through a traveling runner. Very well. Be safe, I replied through the bond. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped me after I closed the link. Not long after, I saw Isolde’s message displayed upon the communal notice board. Her words were meant for all to see: My first outing in many moons. I never expected to crave spun sugar so dearly! Someone insisted on buying it for me. The carved image beside it showed Theron’s hand holding the sweet. His wedding ring—our oath band forged in silver and blessed with moonwater—still rested on his finger. The location she marked matched the place he had claimed to be. The ring upon my own hand burned like a coal from the sacred fire. Without hesitation, I removed it and placed it inside the wooden chest. Since that day, I buried myself in my duties at the healer’s hut and within the pack’s records. Work became my refuge, a shield against the rising tide within my chest. The question of when Theron would return faded into irrelevance, swallowed by the rhythm of my tasks. Then, unexpectedly, he arrived one evening after my shift ended. His horse stood outside the healer’s grounds, its breath visible in the cool air. “Why are you here?” I asked softly, exhaustion weighing on my voice. “Have you forgotten?” he replied as he dismounted and offered his arm. “This is the night of our union anniversary.” “Oh,” I murmured. “Forgive me. My thoughts have been occupied, and I lost track.” He looked at me in disbelief. “You once treasured this day above all else. How could it slip from your mind?” It was true. In earlier years, I prepared feasts with herbs and game, wove garlands of wildflowers, and lit candles in devotion to our bond. I wished only to see joy in his eyes. Yet those efforts were later dismissed as excessive, even shameful. I still recalled the night I arranged a surprise gathering at the feast hall. He whispered sharply, “Mira, you draw too much attention. The pack is watching. This is uncomfortable.” He escorted me away before the elders and guests, and that was the moment something inside me dimmed. “Come,” he said now, guiding me toward his horse. “Let us share a meal to mark the night.” As we rode, silence stretched between us like a winter field. His eyes kept drifting toward me, searching for traces of the woman I used to be. “Are you troubled?” he finally asked. “No,” I answered. “No?” His brow tightened. “Then why do you seem distant? I came to honor our bond. Should that not be enough?” “I harbor no anger.” He exhaled sharply. “Very well. I swear upon the Moonstone, I will sever ties with Isolde entirely. Is that what you desire?” I met his gaze without emotion. Did he believe vows spoken in haste could mend months of secrecy and half-truths? “Are you satisfied now?” he asked. I offered no reply. The remainder of the journey passed in silence until we reached a grand hall prepared for celebration. Theron had arranged candles, wildflower wreaths, and a reserved chamber for our meal. The scene appeared romantic, drawing admiring glances from nearby clansfolk. Before I could open the wrapped token he placed before me, his runner arrived with urgent news. “Fever?” he asked into the mindlink. “Does the child require herbs? I cannot leave at this moment—what? The fever is high? Very well. I will come.” He ended the link and turned to me, unease shadowing his features. “It is Isolde. Her cub burns with illness. I must go.” A knot tightened in my throat, yet I forced calm into my voice. “Go. The child comes first.” He hesitated, studying my expression as though searching for resistance. “Wait here. I will return for you,” he said, grabbing his cloak before departing in haste. I remained alone before the untouched feast. Outside, rain began to fall, tapping against the stone walls like distant drumbeats. The sound mirrored something inside me—steady, subdued, unwept. After finishing the meal in quiet, I left the hall. A passing carriage offered me a ride back to the den, though I had no covering against the rain. The droplets chilled my skin as I walked the final stretch under the darkening sky. When I reached home, I bathed and changed into dry furs. Later, I saw another announcement posted through the pack messenger board. It showed Theron inside Isolde’s dwelling, standing beside her and the child. Warm lamplight filled the chamber, glowing softly around them—an intimate brightness that contrasted sharply with the cold rain that had followed me home. The sight did not break me. It only confirmed what the moon had already whispered to my heart.

Theron did not return to the den until the pale light of dawn filtered through the trees. When he finally stepped inside, he began at once, as though eager to justify himself. “Jesse burned with fever the entire night. The heat would not leave his body.” Jesse—the cub of Isolde. To me, that name sounded like wind passing through an unfamiliar forest. “Is he well now?” I asked evenly after a brief nod. “Why did you not remain longer? It must be difficult for Isolde to tend a sick cub alone.” He paused while unfastening his cloak, irritation flashing across his face. “Are you mocking me again?” He let out a long breath, heavy with exhaustion. Whether it was genuine or merely an act, I could not tell. “I did not close my eyes all night. I am weary.” “Then rest,” I replied calmly. “I am leaving for the healer’s hut.” I turned to gather my satchel. “Mira…” He reached out and held my wrist. “What is it?” “We will celebrate our anniversary another time,” he said. “I promise.” A faint smile touched my lips, though no warmth lived behind it. “I am not angered.” He studied me for a moment before pulling me into his arms. The embrace felt hollow, like an oath spoken without the Moon Goddess’ blessing. He rested his chin lightly against my hair. “There is a gathering with the company this coming weekend,” he murmured. “Come with me.” Theron’s lineage was far more respected than mine. He was born within this territory, while I remained only because our marriage bound me here after graduation from the healer’s circle. His companions and acquaintances regarded me with little interest. Though they seldom spoke to me directly, they frequently sought my assistance for minor ailments, knowing I served at the healer’s hall. In earlier days, I would carry herbs to Theron whenever he suffered discomfort, yet he never introduced me to his comrades as his mate. Returning to myself, I answered, “I may need to remain at the hall for extra duties that day.” He tightened his jaw. “Suit yourself.” I did not attend. Still, I did not expect him to bring Isolde in my stead. While I copied records under the lamplight, my phone began to hum repeatedly. When I opened it, I discovered I had been placed in a group message concerning the pack’s gathering. Images from the event flooded the thread. Many featured Isolde smiling brightly among Theron’s colleagues, fitting in as though she belonged there. In one scene, Theron lifted her into his arms and carried her across the meadow as part of a game. She clung to his neck, her cheek resting against his chest. Had she tilted her face slightly higher, their lips might have met. The group erupted in praise. They tagged both of them, calling them a destined pair. Given Theron’s standing within the pack’s enterprise, the others rushed to flatter him, one comment after another declaring how well suited they were. Since I had been included in the circle, ignoring it would have seemed improper. So I followed the others and typed two simple words: Well matched. I even added a clapping symbol to blend with the rest. After sending it, I left the thread and silenced the device. When I completed the records, darkness had already settled over the forest. Later, I retrieved my phone and saw that Theron had attempted to reach me many times. His messages were stacked one upon another, urgent yet unread in the quiet night.