Stolen Mate

The forest was quiet tonight, save for the crunch of pine needles under my boots and the distant howl of a lone wolf. Moonlight seeped through the trees, painting silver streaks on the mossy ground. I knelt, fingers brushing the velvety leaves of a nightbloom plant—its petals glowed faintly, ready to be plucked. *For the fever tinctures*, I reminded myself, tucking it into my woven basket. Healing was my purpose, my anchor in the Silvermoon Pack. The woods knew my footsteps better than the pack's own trails.

"Elara!"

I turned, the familiar voice slicing through the stillness. Lila bounded toward me, her fiery auburn hair loose and wild, as always. She skidded to a stop, breathless, her amber eyes glittering with mischief. "You're *still* out here? The Alpha's back at dawn! The whole pack's scrubbing the meeting hall like their lives depend on it."

I shrugged, forcing a smile. "Someone has to restock the infirmary before the ceremony."

She snorted, snatching the basket from my hands. "You're the only one who'd prioritize yarrow over *this*. The mate ceremony's a once-in-a-lifetime event!" Her voice softened, teasing. "What if Kieran picks you?"

My chest tightened. Alpha Kieran—broad-shouldered, storm-eyed, with a laugh that could shake the earth—had been away for months, settling disputes with the neighboring packs. The thought of him stirred something primal in me, a flicker I'd buried deep. "Don't joke about that," I muttered, grabbing the basket back. "The Moon Goddess chooses mates. Not Alphas."

Lila looped her arm through mine, dragging me toward the village. "But *you'd* make a perfect Luna. Gentle. Wise. Not like those power-hungry she-wolves clawing for his attention." She wrinkled her nose. "Besides, your scent's practically made for him. Lavender and moonlight. It's *obvious*."

I stiffened. My scent had always been… different. Stronger. A healer's mark, the elders said. But Lila's words felt like a stone in my gut. "The Goddess doesn't care about scents," I lied. "She cares about loyalty."

"Loyalty?" Lila laughed, sharp and bright. "Please. This is about *destiny*."

We reached the edge of the village, where torches flickered in iron brackets and the scent of roasted venison hung thick. The pack bustled around bonfires, stringing garlands of ivy and wolfsbane between the cabins. Children darted underfoot, yipping playfully, while elders muttered blessings over the Alpha's empty throne.

Lila squeezed my arm, her grin fading. "You're really not excited?"

I hesitated. Excited? Terrified. The ceremony would bind Kieran to his true mate, the one the Moon Goddess had chosen. And every fiber of me ached to believe it could be… *No*. Hope was a dangerous thing. "I'm just glad he's home safe," I said quietly.

Her eyes narrowed, but she let it drop. "Come on. Mara needs help with the feast."

I followed, my gaze drifting to the Alpha's lodge—a towering structure of cedar and stone at the heart of the village. Its doors were carved with howling wolves, their eyes gleaming like embers. Tomorrow, Kieran would stand there, and the pack would watch as fate unfolded.

***

By midnight, the infirmary shelves were stocked, and my hands smelled of crushed herbs and resin. I lingered in the doorway, watching the pack's shadows dance against the firelight. Laughter bubbled from the meeting hall, where Lila was no doubt charming the warriors with her bold jokes and louder laugh.

"Elara."

I jumped. Elder Taryn stood behind me, her silver braids coiled like serpents. Her milky eyes saw more than they should. "The Alpha's return troubles you."

"No, Elder. I'm… I'm glad for him."

She hummed, unconvinced. "The Moon's path is rarely smooth. Trust your heart, child. It knows the scent of truth."

Before I could reply, she vanished into the crowd.

I retreated to my cabin, the smallest in the village, tucked between the infirmary and the woods. My fingers traced the dried herbs hanging from the rafters—thyme, sage, bitterroot—as I brewed a cup of chamomile. The ceremony loomed like a storm, inevitable and wild.

*What if he chooses me?*

The thought slipped in, unwelcome. I sipped the tea, bitter on my tongue. Kieran was a leader, a warrior. I was a healer, happiest in the shadows. We were ash and flame—close, but never meant to touch.

A knock shattered the silence.

Lila leaned in the doorway, holding two steaming mugs. "Can't sleep either?"

I shook my head, motioning her inside. She handed me a mug—spiced cider, sweet and sharp. We sat on the floor, shoulders pressed together, like we'd done since we were pups.

"Remember when we snuck into the Alpha's lodge?" she said, grinning. "You were convinced Kieran's ghost would haunt us."

"You *pushed* me into his trophy room!"

"And you screamed so loud, you woke the entire pack."

I elbowed her, but laughter spilled out. For a moment, the weight lifted.

Her smile faded. "Whatever happens tomorrow… we're still sisters, right?"

"Always."

She hugged me tight, her cider clove-and-cinnamon scent mingling with mine. "Good. Because you're stuck with me."

When she left, the room felt colder. I curled into my cot, staring at the moon through the window. The Goddess's eye, watching. Judging.

*Tomorrow*, I thought. *Tomorrow, everything changes.*