Yael sat still long after the door closed.
The woman's words echoed inside her skull like thorns scratching against stone.
'We didn't have to check, it's already leaking through your skin.'
She stared down at her bandaged shoulder, jaw clenched tight enough to ache. Beneath the gauze, the crescent mark pulsed faintly, like a warning heartbeat. The room was warm, the air thick with the scent of dried herbs and soot, but she couldn't stop shivering.
Her guardian never told her wolves could smell it. She'd always said the mark was dormant... dormant unless seen, unless triggered, unless...
Unless what?
Yael stood too fast, her legs wobbled beneath her. She caught herself on the edge of a wooden table, exhaling sharply as pain shot through her side. Her cloak still rested neatly across the stool beside her... folded, not tossed, as if whoever had undressed her had done so carefully. Respectfully, or… clinically.
She didn't know which unsettled her more.
Through the window, the forest breathed. Morning mist had begun to lift, but the trees were still dark silhouettes, leaning inward, as if still listening. The sky was slate grey, it was quiet, but not calm.
She tested the latch.
Locked.
Of course.
A creak sounded behind her.
She turned sharply... too sharply, pain flashed behind her eyes, but she kept her face neutral. A boy stood in the doorway now, no older than seventeen, with tawny skin and pale grey eyes too old for his face. He held a bowl of something steaming, and a cloth tucked over one arm like a server.
He looked at her like one might look at a wounded animal, curiously, but not kindly.
"You're not supposed to be up." He said, his tone was flat. "You're healing."
Yael didn't move. "Who else saw it?"
The boy blinked. "What?"
"The mark. Who else was here when you…" She gestured vaguely to her shoulder. "...did this?"
He stared at her for a beat too long, then crossed the room and set the bowl down beside her. "We don't need to see it, yhat's what they meant."
"I know what they said." She snapped. "I want to know who saw it."
The boy didn't answer. Instead, he reached for the edge of the bandage.
Yael recoiled. "Don't touch me."
"I wasn't going to." His voice was still maddeningly even. "I was going to replace it, you're bleeding through."
She blinked, looked down... damn! The cloth had started to blot red again, not heavily, but enough to make her stomach twist. She hated how fast her body was betraying her lately, hated even more how calm this child looked about it.
He reached into a pouch and pulled out a small tin of something dark and sweet smelling. He offered it to her without a word, she looked at it with a hesitant glance.
"What is it?" She asked.
"Fangroot salve, for bites."
Her heart thudded hard. "It wasn't a bite."
"Didn't say it was." The boy replied, with the faintest smirk. "But fangroot still works best on wounds that smell like wolves."
Yael collected it softly, then turned the tin in her hand.
If they wanted to kill her, they would've killed her long ago rii?
The boy left then, without saying another word.
The door clicked shut.
This time, she didn't try to follow.
---
Hours passed, maybe more. She tried not to sleep, but the exhaustion crawled in anyway, coiled around her thoughts and dragged her under. When she woke, the light outside had deepened, and voices hummed faintly beyond the walls.
Low, sharp, and arguing.
She crept to the door, pressing her ear against the wood.
"…not fully turned, but it's in her. You smelled it, we all did."
That was the woman's voice... low, firm, irritated.
Then, a deeper one. Familiar.
Maybe the obsidian haired man. "And that's exactly why we wait. We don't make decisions until the Council confirms."
"She crossed into North Howl without a sigil." The woman hissed. "She's unmarked, unclaimed, and she's burning, Calen. Don't pretend she's just another stray."
"I'm not pretending anything, Lira."
Yael stepped back from the door, pulse racing. Unclaimed?! Burning?;
What did that even mean?
Buh she has a crescent mark at the back of her shoulder, so how is she unmarked?
A sharp knock struck the wood before she could move further.
She backed away quickly, swallowing her panic as the door creaked open again.
This time, it was the man from the clearing... Calen.
He entered like someone who didn't ask for permission. His eyes locked on hers, and again she felt that strange rush of heat beneath her skin. Her mark pulsed, she crossed her arms over her chest quickly.
He paused at the threshold, then closed the door behind him.
"We need to talk." He said simply.
Yael backed toward the window. "Talk, then."
He tilted his head slightly, then approached the table and sat, like this was a negotiation instead of a warning.
"You're not like the others." He said. "The ones who wander in lost, you're marked."
Yael didn't answer.
Wait, they just said she's unclaimed and unmarked and this guy is going about that she's marked, what the hell is going on?!
"Moonfire doesn't just burn." He continued. "It chooses, and lately, it's been waking."
She kept her mouth shut, unsure if he was baiting her.
He leaned forward. "Your guardian... what was she?"
Yael blinked. "She was a healer."
"No, what was she?"
"…she never said."
He stared at her for a long moment. "Of course she didn't."
"Why do you care?" Yael asked, voice low.
'How does he even know about her guardian?!' She screamed inwardly but looked at him calmly.
"What does this mark mean to you?"
"It means territory, power, bloodlines." He stood again. "And danger, if left unchecked."
Yael stepped back. "I didn't ask for this."
Calen's gaze softened... just barely. "No one ever does."
She swallowed hard. "What happens now?"
"You stay here. We wait for the Council."
"For how long?"
He didn't answer.
Of course not.
He turned to leave, then hesitated, glancing at her shoulder once more.
"You don't have to be afraid of what it makes you." He said. "Just be afraid of what others want to make of it."
Then he left her there, alone again.
And this time… the silence didn't feel safe at all.