Chapter 4 : Revelation

*Vanessa*

I jerk up, my back soaked with sweat as the nightmare bleeds into my new reality, and for a second, I’m not sure where I am. Then Amara’s at my side, patting my shoulder.

“It’s alright. The sedatives are starting to wear off. What’s your current pain level?” she asks, her keen brown eyes observing me carefully.

“Huh?” I ask, still too muddled to understand what she’s asking.

“As in, say, one being a flick against the temple and ten being flayed alive with a wolfbane knife?” she repeats.

I blink. “Uh … maybe being shoved off the top of a cliff?”

“Okay, so like a solid six then. Is it necessary for any additional meds?” She turns to head out, but I shake my head in refusal.

“No, that’s okay. I’m still in pain, but I really don’t want any more drugs in my system.” I need to keep a cool head. Regardless of Shawn’s seeming friendliness, this is still unfamiliar territory and I’m not a part of this pack.

The last thing I need is for my senses to be dulled down.

Amara nods, an understanding expression on her face. “Well, you are healing rather slowly. I know that the severity of your injuries was out of the ordinary, but I still expected faster regeneration.”

I press my lips together. Lower wolves in general heal slower than those in leadership positions. Some of the older shifters back home used to tell stories of the mate bonds and how one wolf’s broken body could be healed through some kind of telekinetic link with their mate, who could share their own strength and life force.

I didn’t really believe it then and I still don’t believe it now, but even false, those stories alone spoke to the mystery and power associated with mate bonds… Let alone fated mate bonds. I close my eyes, trying to purge those thoughts from my mind.

Trent’s betrayal is the last thing I need to be focusing on right now.

“Hey, are you okay?” the medic asks, and when I open my eyes again, I’m surprised to see what looks to be genuine concern on her face. Outside of Kaira, I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me like that.

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe I was a bit too ambitious with declining the pain meds.”

Amara smiles at my attempt at a joke. “Well, the offer is still there. We don’t have the biggest stock, but there should be enough to help you through the next couple of weeks if you need it. Just let me know and I’ll get you something.”

I’m not sure how to respond beyond a tentative thank you. I’m not used to hospitality and kindness, and the fact that this is a stranger from a different pack makes her attitude toward me all the more bewildering.

But I’m not ungrateful.

It takes another day or two of full resting before I’m able to move around without tearing any of my stitches or causing pain to flare up, but I’m dying to get out of this bed. When Amara offers to show me around the territory, I immediately accept it.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I discovered I was in Ashborne, but it certainly wasn’t this. Their territory is more like an old-fashioned village, so starkly different from the modernized home I came from.

I knew their Alpha had passed recently and that loss of leadership tended to be accompanied by a loss of resources, but I’m still unprepared for the lack I see. Their fences are run down, barely able to keep out any potential predators or attackers, leaving their pack to rely on the strength of their patrol guards for safety and security.

I can see a group waiting near one of the gaps in the fence, clearly getting ready to go on a hunt. Whereas my old pack had a bustling hunting team in which positions for game-chasing were often fought over, their hunting group seems to be largely unsuccessful and smaller than what’s needed to provide for a pack this size.

I see glimpses of Shawn, who always has something to do as I assume he attempts to pull the withered threads of this pack together. His eyes find mine sometimes, and while his expression never changes, I do notice his gaze lingers on mine for longer than suspicion requires.

“How … how did things get this way?” I ask Amara as we walk slowly around the relatively small community. Around us, the moving shifters are scrawnier than the ones I’m used to, their poor hunting yields revealed in their almost-gaunt frames.

Some of them stop to watch me. I know that word must have definitely gotten out that I’d popped up out of nowhere, but whether because their Alpha would take no objections, or because they just genuinely don’t care for strangers, no one really goes out of their way to be obnoxious to me. Some even give me wary greetings, something that absolutely floors me. Not even back home, before my rejection and subsequent ill treatment at the hands of my pack members, was I greeted on the street.

“Things were unrecognizable under Alpha Wyatt,” she says, but her words are slow and careful like she’s not sure how much she is allowed to tell me. I can’t fault her caution. “Shawn’s father was a brilliant leader and his son is not unlike him in all the ways that matter. But our pack was targeted by several rival groups. Shawn was given this responsibility just as everything fell apart, and now it’s on him to try and fix everything.”

She doesn’t elaborate further beyond that, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out how things were manipulated after his passing.

I go quiet, thinking back to everything I learned in preparation to become Luna. Pack politics was a major point of study, both within and without. Based on location alone, I could think of several much bigger neighboring packs that would foam at the mouth for the opportunity to weaken a rival.

Attacking their strongest warriors through patrol ambushes, poisoning the nearby streams to kill off their food sources, tempting away some deserters with promises of high ranks in an opposing pack… These are all the sorts of underhanded tactics employed in the power vacuum of a deceased Alpha.

Despite the seeming hopelessness of their situation though, Ashborne doesn’t seem defeated. They’re thinner than what would be expected for healthy shifters, but they’re strong, something I can see as they go about fixing shelters and weak spots in the fence. They’re grieving but still hopeful, lighter conversation bubbling around Amara and me, complete with the occasional laugh and friendly shove.

It may be the fact that they’ve already treated me better than Trent’s pack did, but for some reason, the thought of them moving beyond their current situation and thriving once more makes me happy.

The feeling is so foreign to me that it catches me off guard.

The hunt lasts for hours but when the group returns, they don’t return empty-handed. In celebration, Amara informs me that Shawn has decided to have a pack dinner. Everyone gathers around the square; a sectioned-off block in the center of the territory that is paved with sandstone. There’s a giant bonfire in the middle, one that’s started in the late afternoon and blazes through the night, long after everyone’s full and drunk on conversation.

They have shifters playing instruments as entertainment, and many are dancing. Shawn himself, far from being removed and distant, sits with us while we eat and I almost catch him smiling at the happiness of his pack members several times. He’s deep in conversation with another shifter who seems to be of higher rank.

Whereas Shawn is dark and broody-looking, his friend is light and charming — his hair is golden brown and his eyes are a similar shade of honey. I see his brown eyes watching Amara, especially when she sways to the sound of the drums.

But she seems clueless, opting to stick with me, and even though I know it’s because she’s been told to keep an eye on me, I’m grateful for the familiarity beginning to form between us. I was shocked enough when she told me Shawn had offered me to join them tonight.

“He’s a little bit more lively than I expected,” I comment to her, and she looks up with a grin.

“He’s stoic like his father was. It’s just the way they are, but no one here doubts that he cares about the pack. Even if it’s taking everyone a while to adjust to him,” she explains.

I’m tempted to push my luck and ask her more questions, but someone else has pulled her away to dance and I’m left on my own for a bit. Although, obviously not without the occasional glance from the higher-ranked wolves to make sure I’m not secretly plotting to kill everyone.

Between the music, the laughter, and the firelight, I get lost in my thoughts. I watch Shawn’s face lined by the shadow of the flames, how he seems to be both at ease enough to make his pack feel comfortable around him, but still intimidating enough to make them feel safe in his protection.

I cannot help but make the comparison to Trent.

Trent, as horrible as he was to me, was a mediocre leader. He didn’t seem to know how to balance those two traits, and so instead opted to settle for intimidation and rank-pulling. I remember how he used his position to reject me in a way that would appeal to the pack.

My face burns hot at the memory.

I wonder what things would’ve been like if he had even an ounce of Shawn’s compassion. But before I can imagine how different my life could’ve been under a different Alpha, I hear a conspicuous cough beside me and jolt in surprise.

A smiling face sits next to me, their eyes peering at me curiously. The face is a conundrum. Looking at them, I can’t confidently pin an age or gender to them. Their face isn’t lined with the obvious tell-tale sign of years, but there’s something ancient in the gleam of their dark eyes and the mischievous curve of their smile. Likewise, their face is soft but not enough to be distinctly feminine.

I’m not sure how to proceed and as though they can read my mind, they laugh.

“Ah, so you are the new girl. Welcome to Ashborne, Vanessa. I am Elder Luka.” The stranger reaches out their hand and I shake it cautiously.

“How did you know my name?”

Elder Luka shrugs. “Everyone here pretty much knows about you. It’s not an everyday thing to accept a stray shifter into the pack.”

“I haven’t exactly been accepted yet,” I point out. “Not that I’m expecting to be. I’m a stranger, obviously, and one that doesn’t seem to be very likable.”

I hate myself for moping about, especially to a stranger, but I can’t stop myself. Not only have I had to keep all of my emotions sealed tight since the attack, but there’s something so calming and inviting about Elder Luka, something that goads me to speak even though I don’t want to.

They say nothing at first, just watching the festivities around us. I begin to accept that I’ve officially ended the conversation with my morose comment until Elder Luka speaks again.

“You know, most shifters believe that the measure of their ability to be loved can be found in their mate. And they’re right, to a degree, to value what their soulmate sees in them and to find happiness in that,” they say. “But mates do not determine the sum total of someone’s value or worth. Even the fated mate bond can be flawed.”

My eyes pop open in shock. “What did you say?”

“Ha, you have much to learn about, girl. From your surprise, I assume you believed the bond was something irrevocably life-changing.”

“I… Well, I always thought that the fated mate bond was meant to be unbreakable. Something solid and magical,” I admit, ignoring how silly I feel saying the words out loud.

Elder Luka chuckles. “Indeed. Many people do, you’re far from the only one. But what most fail to realize is that even if the bond is Goddess-ordained, it’s still given to flawed people who can choose to ruin the bond or not.” They give me a smile that makes them suddenly look like a child. “I’m old. I am probably the only elder around older than the Goddess herself.”

They regard me with a thoughtful look, one that immediately pulls my attention. Around us, the evening breeze picks up and carries with it the smell of fire and meat.

“I’ve seen shifters take a million different routes to find their own happiness. What happened to you was terrible and you did not deserve any of it. But the fated mate bond is not the be-all and end-all of your journey, Vanessa. You can still be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

Tears prick my eyes, blurring my vision until I have to wipe at them with the heel of my hand. The emotions I’ve been trying so hard to beat back come in full force and I’m wracked with pain again.

I want to be happy. I want it badly.

I don’t want to have to carry this pain around like a scar, forever branded by Trent’s rejection and letting that dictate how I feel about myself for the rest of my life. And hearing those words … it’s the first time I think that I might not have to.

I turn to Elder Luka to thank them, but they’re gone and I’m left perplexed, unable to spot them anywhere.

I’m further mystified when I realize that I never actually told anyone about what happened to me, especially not about my rejected fated mate bond with Trent.