Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Grace: Abandoned

How long do I stand there, eyes straining in the darkness that steadily grows?

Who knows. I sure don't.

The howls change; many are still hunting. Several have found their mates. Is Rafe howling out there, sharing a joyous run with his newfound mate?

That pretty little red wolf, the gorgeous woman within—she's everything I'm not.

My breath puffs out in wispy smoke, a visual reminder of the temperature, even though my body's already long cold.

My teeth chatter as I wrap my arms around myself, finally roused out of my fugue state to ponder more immediate concerns. Like how to get home.

I've never been great at reading the stars. Alpha always warned me I should learn these basic skills; I don't have an internal compass, and I'm terrible at tracking. But I live with wolves, so I don't spend many nights outside alone. It's too dangerous.

The forest stretches endlessly, nothing but shadows and the rustling of leaves and howls in the distance.

At least no one seems to be around me. Hopefully that means I'm close to home. I pick a direction at random, praying it leads me out of this nightmare.

Who would do this to me, setting me up for such a cruel fate? The questions swirl in my mind, but answers are out of reach. Yes, there are occasional pranks when you live with wolves. There's some harassment. There's even a solid amount of bullying I endure in silence.

But this? To threaten my life, to put me in the middle of the Mate Hunt, knowing at any time a frustrated wolf could hunt me down?

Human women are fully aware of the statistics; unmated shifter males are their biggest fear. Any male shifter in human territory is automatically suspect whenever a sexual assault case comes up.

It's no secret in the shifter community; it's a struggle every pack deals with. Most of the assaults are from rogue wolves, but not all. It's one of the many reasons they're not welcome among most human communities.

So who would be this cruel, knowing my likely fate?

As much as I can be disliked among the pack, I'm not generally hated.

The forest floor bites into my bare feet with every step. Twigs snap, leaves crunch, and sharp rocks dig into my soles. My toes curl against the cold, damp earth. Each step sends a jolt of pain up my leg from my throbbing ankle.

I crash through the underbrush, all grace abandoned. Branches whip across my face and arms, leaving stinging welts in their wake.

"Move quietly. Blend with the forest. Especially because you're human, you'll need to move like a wolf."

Rafe's voice echoes in my head, unbidden. Tears prick at my eyes as I remember his patient instructions, his warm hands guiding me through the woods. How many nights did we spend out here, him teaching me to navigate the wilderness?

No. I shove the memories away, blinking furiously against the moisture threatening to spill over.

But they keep coming, relentless as the cold seeping into my bones.

"Watch where you step. See how I place my foot? Roll from heel to toe, avoid anything that might snap or rustle."

I stumble over a root, nearly falling face-first into the leaf litter. Every move I make announces my presence.

"You're doing great, Grace. Soon you'll be moving as well as any wolf."

A choked sob escapes my lips before I can stop it. Rafe's proud smile, the warmth in his eyes as he watched me improve—it's all tainted now. Poisoned by the cold dismissal in those same eyes mere hours ago.

Fuck this mated bullshit.

Who wants a man that changes so much over a little bit of pheromones?

I limp onward, each step a battle against pain and exhaustion. Shadows dance at the edge of my vision, taking the shape of prowling wolves. Every so often I jerk around, convinced something's following me.

But there's nothing there.

Even distant howls have gone silent.

"If you ever feel lost or scared, just listen. The forest will guide you home."

I thought was my future has

my foot, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet night. It's only then

That's not good.

There's a predator somewhere.

but the whisper of wind through leaves. Another far-off howl. And another, echoing off

close, despite the

chest that has nothing to do with physical exertion. How late is it? I can't feel my toes. Or my

same as the last, each shadow

you know. Don't ever

knife. One of those serrated ones

true mate. How

of undergrowth. Thorns slice over my skin, but

shadows. Just silver-blue moonlight resting against impossibly lush

It's unnaturally perfect here.

a wolf howls. No matter how many years I've lived with this pack, the sound always sends a chill down my spine. Primal instinct, Alpha always

times had I stood beside Rafe, watching in awe as he shifted and added his

that howl holds no wonder,

Just bitterness and pain.

hands over my arms, a futile attempt to generate warmth. My teeth chatter as I stumble forward, eyes darting around the eerily perfect clearing. Something about this place feels off,

by fallen leaves, gleams silver-blue in the moonlight.

lips. This forest is my home—or was. I've explored so much of it with Rafe. But I have no memory of

sun would guide me, even with my poor sense

A twig snaps.

suffocating. No insects

in the

straining against the darkness.

And then—

Oh. God.

wolf emerges from the treeline. No, not just massive.

them both. It could swallow Rafe's wolf in a single

of shadow clings to its

heart pounds so hard I'm sure

isn't possible. Wolves don't get this big. They

hard, certain I must be hallucinating. Maybe I hit my head. Maybe I'm lying unconscious in the forest, and this is all some

step forward. The ground

Not a dream, then.

at me to flee. But my legs won't move. I'm rooted to the spot, caught in the creature's

beyond any animal I've ever encountered. Even the shifters in their wolf forms don't have eyes like this. They're like storm

Ancient. Knowing. Powerful.

to be quiet, even

Blue Mountain Pack's land," I tell the wolf with bravado that

pain. There's no way I'm

snorts. Alpha's fearsome reputation does nothing

deliberate and unhurried. Moonlight catches its fur, but

it, trying to stay strong despite the waver in my

a human. Wolves are terrifying creatures. Try standing up to one in the wild; knowing the power in their bodies, it's

around

desperate to maintain distance, but my ankle gives way beneath me. My

scrabbling against the earth. But before I can right myself, the wolf does something

It lays down.

head tilted in what can only be described

language speaks of interest

I whisper, as if raising the volume of my words might

the sound of my voice. Its eyes, luminous in

the trees, and violent shivers rattle my bones. Whoever threw me into the wild with just a bra and

chuff. It tilts its head the other way, as if trying

suppose you have a blanket hidden in that

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