It had come to me as I stood watching the pack’s hunters prepare for a raid on Redclaw territory. Pups my age had drifted between the hunter’s legs as they listened to Alpha Varick outline their plans.
I’d watched them, aching to be included. To feel as connected and whole as they were. Then my world had turned white before snapping into sharp contrast in a time and place unlike our own.
A shadow at the edge of the woods. A warning on the wind. I screamed for the others to run, but they didn’t listen and the trap sprung.
I woke from my faint, bloody, shaking, screaming warnings until my throat became raw and my tears stopped flowing.
They didn’t believe me at first. But when Varick sent scouts ahead, they found exactly what I’d seen—a massacre avoided because of my gift.
In that moment, everything changed. The disgust in my parents’ eyes transformed into something far worse—cold calculation.
I was no longer just the girl without a wolf. I was the girl who knew things she shouldn’t.
Naked females hurry past, jostling me in their haste. I follow suit, folding each piece of clothing carefully with shaking hands.
My only hope lies in being caught by a wolf from another pack, I think, placing my clothes at the base of a tree. But who is powerful enough to stand against Kieran?
The grass is cold under my bare feet as I step forward. The last of the trees part, and the grove opens before me, a perfect circle of ancient oaks with the claiming stone at its center. Torches flicker around its edges, casting long, swaying shadows across the crowd. The Claiming has drawn alphasand unmated males from four territories. I feel their hungry, assessing stares as I enter.
Naked. Human. Alone.
I’ve never felt more vulnerable.
They shift with ease, fur rippling, claws unsheathing, muscles snapping into new forms. I remain bare, bound to skin and bone. I cannot transform like them, can’t shed this fragile flesh for the armor of fang and fury. My gift has always made me valuable, but safety is not a luxury provided by it.
You’ll see,my she-wolf whispers.
I scan the grove, heart pounding. Goose bumps rise along my arms despite the heat of the torches.The ground feels too wide. The sky too low. There are too many eyes, and claws, and teeth.
They’re not seeking us to mate, I tell her.They want to control our gift.
She nuzzles me, her presence warm and reassuring.A mate cannot harm.She’s calm. Certain. She doesn’t understand because wolves are simple creatures. Honest, instinctive. When they love, they love wholly. When they choose, they do so without games or cruelty. They know their mates the moment they catch their scent at the Claiming. They enter, expecting to chase down their soul match.
It’s an urge that is primitive and wild, anchored in the body and soul.
A wolf can be trusted to find their mate, to value her in body, mind, and soul.
But it’s not the wolf I fear. It’s the men.
It’s the wolves who wear fur but think like men—calculating, manipulative, always seeking to take rather than cherish. It’s the human minds inside that want my gift, not my heart.
My she-wolf doesn’t understand. And why would she? She’s a creature of moonlight and bone-deep devotion.
She believes in mates. I believe in betrayal.
The wind shifts, carrying whispers to my ears.
“My Alpha demands I claim the seer. But she’s weak and old,” one of them tells a friend, his voice laced with disdain. “Barely worth the effort.”
I stiffen, the sting of his words sharper than I expect. At twenty-five, I’m considered long overdue for claiming, my worth already bartered down to scraps. To them, I am a cracked cup, barely useful enough to drink from.
My wolf growls inside me, but I quiet her.
Now would be a great time to show me what happens next, I tell her.
She just yawns and curls up, her ears twitching.All will be well.
I can’t see my own future, or the futures of the people I care about most. My visions don’t work that way. They skip over the things closest to me, as if my own story isn’t important.
