The Trackers Soulmate

Lyra clutched her bag to her, as if its meager contents would be enough to protect her from what she was fleeing. She didn't look behind her, not once. There was nothing to see, except for shredded memories. She knew the layout of this forest by heart, the roots that stuck out here and there, the massive trunks between which she now slipped like a shadow. Her steps sank into the thickness of the ground, but she moved forward, determined, her breath short and punctuated by a dull anger and a fear she refused to name.

Leaving hadn't been a decision, it had been a need. A given. There was no place for her there anymore, not after what they'd done. Not after what she'd seen. She tried to push the image away, but it clung to her thoughts like sharp claws. Her brother's howl, broken, barely human. The Alpha's fangs, glinting in the moonlight. And the silence afterward, heavy, crushing, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.

She hadn't cried. Not yet. It was as if the tears were stuck somewhere, drowned under rage and injustice. Why him? Why them? But Lyra had filed the questions away in a corner of her mind. She knew they would return, later, in the solitude of the nights, like insatiable ghosts. For now, there was the urgency to leave.

When she finally emerged from the cover of the trees, the sky lay before her, vast and indifferent. The stars, those damn stars, shone as if nothing had happened. She took a deep breath, the cool air biting at her lungs. She didn't know where she was going, only that she couldn't stay. She'd stolen enough money from the pack's stash to last a few weeks. Maybe a month if she was careful. But caution had never been her strong point.

The first village she passed through was deserted at this hour. The shutters of the houses were closed, and only an old lamp flickered at the entrance of an inn. She hesitated for a moment. Her stomach growled, but the idea of stopping, of exposing herself, made her nervous. Finally, she pushed open the door, her abrupt movements betraying her impatience.

The interior was dark, the smell of tobacco and burning wood lingering in the air. A man sat near the counter, a half-empty glass in front of him. He looked up as she entered, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Are you lost?" he asked hoarsely.

She ignored the question, heading straight for the counter. The woman behind the register eyed her suspiciously, but said nothing. Lyra placed a few bills on the worn wood.

"To eat. No matter what."

The woman raised an eyebrow, but took the money and disappeared into the back room. Lyra sat up, aware of the man's gaze still on her. She tried to ignore him, but after a moment, he began to speak.

"There aren't many people who pass by here, even less at this hour."

She didn't answer, but he didn't seem to mind.

"You're not from around here, that's obvious. You're running away from something, right?"