Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 166: The Future of the Werewolves-2

Deep in the cradle of the Kii Mountains, morning light filtered through layers of cedar boughs... soft and golden, like memory given form. The ground was damp with dew, rich with the scent of moss and pine. Birds called high in the canopy, their cries echoing faintly beneath the thunderous voice of Nachi Falls, which plummeted down a cliff face in the distance... its mist rolling like spirits across the valley floor.

A girl stood alone on a stone outcrop, still as carved jade, facing the falls. She was young, barely more than seventeen, yet her presence commanded the space as if she had trained for lifetimes. Jet-black hair, long and silken, was tied into a loose braid that danced behind her with every gust of wind. Her dark and luminous eyes held a depth that belied her youth: half shadow, half fire. A pale flush graced her cheeks, kissed by the cold mountain air.

The katana in her hands danced like an extension of her spirit. She wore a dark indigo keikogi, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a hakama that whispered with every step. Beneath the fabric, muscle and grace coiled together like a wild creature tamed by discipline.

Her bare feet shifted on the stone like falling petals. Her sword flashed, a diagonal cut through the air... followed by a seamless pivot, the blade arcing behind her like a silver crescent moon. She spun with perfect control, her body sinking into a low stance before rising into an upward slash that sliced through the mist as though it feared her.

A second breath, a second flurry.

She leapt in a blur of motion, her katana lifted overhead, then slammed downward into an invisible opponent. The blade shimmered with mountain dew as it carved the air with a shrill hum. She landed light as snow, knees bent, one hand extended behind her for balance. Her breaths were deep and rhythmic... a prayer learned in blood and repetition.

Above her, the sunlight caught the droplets clinging to her blade, scattering tiny rainbows through the clearing. She stood tall, chest rising and falling, hair clinging to her neck, face serene.

From the shadows beyond the trees, an elderly figure stepped forth.

He was tall. His white keikogi fluttered in the wind, his hair bound high and silver with age. His face bore the solemn calm of a thousand winter dawns, yet there was warmth in his voice.

"You’ve mastered the rhythm," the old master said slowly, his sandals brushing through the fallen pine needles. "Now... you must learn to play the silence between each strike."

The girl bowed deeply, sweat glistening on her brow. For a moment, even the howling of Nachi Falls seemed to quiet. In that sacred space between mentor and student, praise was rare... but when spoken, it carried the weight of entire lifetimes.

Miss of

***

forest whispered its secrets. Vines hung like serpents from towering trees, their roots snaking across moss-covered ground. Birds called to one another in bursts of colour and sound, while orchids bloomed unseen in the

cathedral, a girl

bones adorning her arms and ankles. Her bronze skin

and eyes the colour of wet earth after rain... dark, reflective, and full

in the underbrush. Not twenty paces away, a cheetah lifted its head. Its ears

Then it bolted.

And Maíra followed.

erupted into motion. The cheetah darted like lightning through the undergrowth, kicking up leaves and shattering the stillness. But Maíra... barefoot, laughing softly under her breath... gave chase, her body slicing through the trees with liquid instinct. She ducked under vines, leapt over roots, and twisted mid-air with the precision of a predator born

should be able to... but Maíra’s pursuit was relentless. Branches clawed at her skin, drawing thin lines

hour, until sweat rolled down her back and

burst of impossible speed, she

body and tumbling to the forest floor in a blur of fur and flesh. Leaves

fell into

around the beast’s flanks, her hands gently stroking its trembling sides. The cheetah hissed weakly, but did not resist. Slowly, cautiously, it lowered its head into her lap like a stubborn child surrendering to a mother’s lullaby. She ran her fingers through its short golden coat, and the cheetah whimpered once...

Its eyes fluttered, half-closed.

in the tongue of the

and beast, one wild heart beating against another. Around them, the jungle watched in reverent hush, as if it, too, understood