His Wolf My Heart

The storm rolled in without warning.

One moment, the night was quiet—soft wind, whispering leaves, the steady rhythm of my boots on the forest trail. The next, the sky cracked open, spilling rain like shattered glass thrown from the heavens. The first drop hit my cheek sharp as ice, and then the downpour swallowed everything.

I clutched my cloak tighter and pushed through the forest path, the smell of wet earth rising thick around me. I had been traveling since dawn, trading herbs and remedies between villages, and I had already cursed myself a dozen times for not leaving earlier. The border forest was never safe at night. Not because of bandits or beasts, but because of the stories whispered in trembling voices around hearthfires.

Wolves that walked as men.

Men who howled at the moon.

The Silverfangs.

I’d always rolled my eyes at my grandmother’s tales. She used to lean close, poke my forehead, and say, One day you’ll believe, child. I always laughed. Magic lived in the stories of old women and dusty books—not in the forests I walked every week.

Until tonight.

A low sound sliced through the wind—a growl. Rough. Pained. Unmistakably real.

I froze.

The forest suddenly felt smaller, the storm heavier. Rain drummed against the leaves, masking everything… except that sound. It came again, softer this time, like a creature too tired to pretend it wasn’t dying.

My hand hovered near the knife strapped to my belt as I scanned the trees. At first I saw nothing but shifting shadows. Then lightning split the sky—and there it was.

A massive wolf.

Silver as moonlight.

Its fur clumped and slick with rain, streaked with fresh blood that glistened black in the storm. One of its legs dragged uselessly behind it, and every staggered step left a dark smear in the mud.

My breath caught painfully. Every instinct screamed run. Wolves were dangerous enough. A wolf this size—this unnatural—was a death sentence. Yet something held me rooted. I didn’t know if it was bravery or the healer in me… or simply foolishness.

“Easy,” I whispered, lowering my hood so it could see my face. “I won’t hurt you.”

The wolf stopped moving. Its golden eyes lifted to mine, glowing faintly through the rain. And in that split second, something in me shifted. Those eyes were not the empty gaze of a wild beast. They were sharp. Deep. Human.

My pulse stumbled.

He took another step, then collapsed near the creek, the impact shaking droplets from the nearby ferns. His sides heaved in ragged, uneven breaths.

Without thinking—because if I thought, I’d be terrified—I ran to him. I dropped to my knees, my cloak absorbing the mud instantly. His fur was warm beneath my hands, his breath hot and shaky against my wrist. Beneath the scent of blood I smelled iron, smoke, and something raw and ancient.

“Gods…” I breathed, scanning the gash on his rib. The wound was clean—too clean. Not torn, not clawed. Cut. A blade. A poisoned blade, judging by the black veins spiderwebbing from it.

He growled weakly when I pressed around the wound, but didn’t snap. Instead, he lowered his head beside my knee, as if trusting me.

Or surrendering.

I tore open my pouch, my fingers trembling. “Hold on,” I whispered, mixing crushed bellroot, moonmint, and water from the creek into a thick green paste. “This will burn.”

The mixture hissed when I pressed it into the wound. The wolf jerked violently, his eyes blazing gold for a heartbeat before dimming again. I steadied him with both hands.

“You’ll live,” I said. I didn’t know if that was true, but the words spilled out anyway. “Just—don’t die here. Not like this.”

Thunder cracked overhead, splitting the sky apart. Trees bent under the force of the wind, their shadows bending like living things. I looked up for only a second—but when I looked back at him, his breaths were slowing.

Too much.

Too fast.

“No, no—stay with me.” Panic sparked in my chest. I reached out—

His eyes snapped open.

And a pulse slammed through me.

Not mine.

His.

A force like liquid fire rushed through my veins, bright and warm, beating in perfect rhythm with his weakening heart. My vision blurred, the forest spinning, tilting. My breath hitched, my fingers numb.

Then, with one last shudder, the wolf went still.

The world followed.

Silence crashed down, smothering the storm. No wind. No rain. As if the forest itself held its breath.

I touched my chest. Another heartbeat thudded inside me—strong, unfamiliar, echoing against my own.

Then darkness swallowed everything.

When I woke, the storm had passed. The sky was pale grey, the air cold and damp. My clothes clung to my skin. My bones ached. And I felt… different. Sharper. Stronger. Wrong.

I sat up too fast, fighting dizziness.

The wolf was gone.

Only a faint trail of silver fur remained near the creek, already disappearing under the curling fog.

My stomach tightened. What happened? How long had I been unconscious? Why did I feel as if something inside me had shifted position?

I pressed a hand to my chest.

My heart raced—not from fear, but from an overwhelming surge of energy beneath my skin. I could hear the distant rush of the creek, the rustle of a squirrel in a tree, the faint metallic scent of weapons somewhere behind me—

Weapons.

Boots crushed wet leaves.

I spun around.

Three figures emerged from the fog, clad in dark armor etched with swirling silver patterns. Their faces were hidden behind wolf-shaped masks, their presence cold as the morning air.

“By order of Her Majesty, Queen Morwen of the Silverfangs,” the one in front said, voice like polished steel, “you are under arrest.”

“Arrest?” My voice cracked. “For what?”

The soldier unrolled a scroll sealed in black wax. “For trespassing into the Silverfang Realm. And for awakening the Blood Moon bond.”

My blood turned to ice. “I—I don’t know what that means.”

The tallest soldier stepped forward. His mask tipped slightly, as though he were studying me. Beneath it, I sensed… something. Curiosity. Resignation. Maybe even pity.

“You will,” he said quietly. “When the prince wakes.”

My breath vanished.

“Prince?”

Before I could move, cold metal snapped around my wrists. The forest blurred as they guided—no, dragged—me away. Through the mist. Across an unseen border. Into the realm my grandmother always swore was real.

The world of wolves.

And somewhere within it… a prince whose heartbeat now echoed inside my chest.