The frost of the early air seemed to lodge deep in Lyra's bones, mirroring the icy determination that had taken root inside her. She sat by the window in the Guest Den, her old book closed beside her, a crude map of the Blackwood Thicket tucked under it. Kael's caution resounded in her head, "Somewhere More secluded'… the old hunting cabin, deep in the Blackwood Thicket… the spirits of the forest can be unkind to those who wander too far." It was an exile disguised as kind care for her rehabilitation. But Lyra would not be a victim. She would be a strategist.
A hefty tap on the door halted her thoughts. "Luna, Lyra?" "The Alpha requires your presence." She didn't recognize the voice; it was that of a younger, lesser-known fighter. The official speech was a farce.
"I'm ready," Lyra said without emotion. She arose, adjusting her massive tunic and expressing tired resignation. This was the façade she'd chosen. The abandoned pal was too upset to fight. Let them believe it.
The door opened to show two formidable warriors. Not the ones that had previously shown her affection, but rather stern-faced, unyielding wolves.
Their fragrance was neutral and professional, but Lyra detected a little strain, suggesting dissatisfaction with their situation. They may have been Thorne's most faithful enforcers or just those least likely to question.
"Luna Lyra," one of them, a broad-shouldered male called Garth, said, "The Alpha has ordered your immediate removal to the Blackwood Thicket. "For your continued recovery."
Lyra only nodded, her eyes set someplace beyond them, mimicking pain and emptiness. "I understand. "I am prepared."
Garth seemed to pause for a single second, a hint of confusion in his gaze, before gesturing with his head. "If you would follow us."
Lyra walked out of the Guest Den, knowing it would be her final visit in a long time. The pack routes, which are often busy in the early morning, were calmer and less congested. The wolves she did encounter averted their gazes or gave brief, empathetic nods before departing.
Nobody dared approach. The Alpha's order hung heavy in the air, a subliminal reminder to eschew open support. The humiliation left a deep wound, but she used it to fuel her intense need.
As they neared the boundaries of the main settlement via the western woodland routes, a single little person emerged from the shadows of a massive oak tree. Kael.
He stood low, shoulders drooping, face pallid and emaciated. His eyes met Lyra's, and they were filled with worry and remorse. He'd waited. Regardless of the danger, he had come to say farewell.
"Luna Lyra," Kael said softly, his voice full of unshed tears. He took a hesitant step forward, but Garth and his companion moved slightly, blocking his way.
Lyra's eyes softened slightly as they spoke without words. Stay safe. Don't worry. I'll be back. She wanted to transmit confidence, not despair, to him. He needed hope.
"Kael," Lyra replied calmly and mournfully, matching Luna's grief. I appreciate your concern. "I'll do my best to recover quickly for the sake of the pack."
Kael seemed to realize the double meaning, his eyes firming somewhat. "I wish you well, Luna. "The Moonstone Pack will remain." His glance wandered deep into the old forests before returning to her, revealing a promise in the depths. We support you, even if we remain mute.
Thorne's loud voice ripped through the atmosphere. "Kael! What are you doing here? "Your patrol was supposed to leave five minutes ago."
Thorne entered from the main packhouse with Elara gripping his arm. Elara's beauty stood in stark contrast to the morning's dreary attitude.
Her silver-grey fur was well combed, and her look was a delicate mix of demure anxiety and peaceful delight. She stared at Lyra with wide, almost pitying eyes. Lyra, on the other hand, saw Thorne's short, smug look as he turned away.
Thorne approached them, his countenance harsh and uncompromising, his eyes as sharp as flint. Lyra saw that he seemed fatigued, with a little stiffness around his lips, but his determination remained strong.
"Alpha," Kael said softly, dropping his head. "I just wanted to wish Luna Lyra luck on her voyage. I was on my way to patrol right now.
"See that you do," Thorne hissed, his eyes fixated on Lyra. He totally disregarded Kael. "Lyra," he replied, his voice icy and distant. "It's for the best." "And for the pack's peace."
Lyra met his eyes, her expression scrupulously bland. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, playing the role of a shattered spouse who was too numb to complain. "As the Alpha commands," she said softly, her voice barely audible.
Elara moved closer and lightly touched Thorne's arm. "My Alpha, perhaps a kind word?" Luna Lyra seemed concerned. She must be quite lost." Her voice was tinged with sickly sweet pity, making Lyra's stomach churn.
Thorne's eyes softened slightly as he stared at Elara, exhibiting a glimmer of something Lyra couldn't place, affection? Relief? Or just a profound acceptance of the untruth. "Elara is right," Thorne replied, returning his eyes to Lyra, who remained cold. "Your well-being is really important.
The Blackwood Thicket cabin is secure. Wren has prepared a store of food for the first several weeks. There will be weekly supply cuts. Do not go far from the cabin until your strength has completely restored."
Lyra curved her lips inward. Provisions. The supply decreases as if she were a pet being sent to pasture. Her wolf bristled, and a sharp growl erupted in her throat that she forcefully repressed. Not now. Not yet.
"I understand, Alpha," Lyra said, her voice cold. She looked at Kael and whispered a warning. He met her eyes, and a spark of understanding erupted between them.
Thorne nodded fiercely and dismissively. "Good. Garth escorted her to her new home. "Ensure that no unauthorized personnel approaches the area."
"Yes, Alpha," Garth said as he and the other warrior prepared to join Lyra.
Lyra cast one final look back as they set off. Thorne had already turned and placed his arm around Elara's waist, bringing her closer.
Elara gazed over his shoulder, her gaze matching Lyra's. This time, there was no pretense of grief or compassion. Only a cold, victorious grin, broad and unblinking, indicated final accomplishment. The predator's face was exposed and shameless.
Lyra's eyes narrowed. Elara's grin, the horrible, evil delight in her eyes, validated her decision. Thorne may be blind, and the pack may be deceived, but Lyra knows the truth. And she would not stop until she had taken the win from Elara's grabbing clutches.
The trek into the Whispering Woods was long and difficult. Garth and his companion were efficient, traveling at a steady pace and maintaining quiet.
Lyra went after them, her bandaged side aching and her foot scraping against the hardwood floor. Each step tested her stamina and served as a harsh reminder of her frailty. But with each hurting muscle and whisper of wind through the trees, a new kind of power started to emerge inside her.
The forest became thicker, and the familiar odors of pine and moist earth gave way to the Blackwood Thicket's deeper, richer, almost primeval fragrance.
The trees here were older and twisted, with branches so closely intertwined that light struggled to get through, keeping the route in permanent darkness. This was a wild, untamed area of their land that even seasoned hunters avoided.
As they moved on, the quiet became heavier, interrupted only by the crunch of their shoes and the distant scream of an unknown bird. Lyra noticed a change in the air around her. It was heavy, old, and unquestionably powerful. This location was inundated with a different kind of magic than she was used to raw, unbridled power. It was uncomfortable yet, somehow, energizing. It buzzed just under her skin, connecting with a more basic aspect of her wolf.
Finally, they arrived at a little clearing. An older and more worn-out house stood in the middle, unlike any other in the village. It was made of thick, black wood, with tiny, miserable windows that resembled eyes staring out from the darkness. The scent of dust and neglect remained in the air, mixed with a subtle, almost metallic flavor that Lyra couldn't identify.
Garth paused at the edge of the clearing. "This is it, Luna Lyra," he murmured, relieved that their job was over. "Blackwood Thicket Cabin." We will return with supplies every week. "Remain within the marked boundaries." He nodded blankly at the dark forest.
Lyra didn't say anything, her eyes locked on the cabin. It seemed more like a tomb than a paradise. A place to be forgotten.
Garth said, "The Alpha believes this solitude will be beneficial for your reflection," with an uncertain tone. Pity? A warning?
Lyra gradually turned towards him, a little grin on her lips. "Tell the Alpha," she replied, her voice firm, unlike the regretful whisper she had developed, "that I will reflect." Yes. "And I'll remember everything."
Garth widened his eyes, revealing a touch of astonishment in the depths. The other warrior shuffled uncomfortably. Lyra didn't give them time to respond. She turned and marched determinedly toward the cabin, her stride powerful despite her disability. She didn't glance back.
The ancient, heavy cabin door creaked open with a depressing sigh. The inside was dark, dirty, and chilly. Lyra, on the other hand, had no sadness when she crossed past the barrier. She had a burst of stubborn energy.
She was alone. She was wounded. She was banished. But she was not defeated.
Lyra sensed that the real struggle had only just started as the heavy door swung shut behind her, plunging the home into near darkness. The Blackwood Thicket may be her cage, but it is also her forge. Lyra would emerge from the shadows.