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"Alaska," I whispered in the dead of night, knowing full well that sleep had eluded her as it had me. The packhouse was silent, save for the occasional creak of wood settling or the distant howl of a lone wolf. We shared a small, cramped room with Lucien and a few other rogues, but in the stillness of the night, it felt like the world belonged to just us two.
She lay on her bed, her back to me, but I could tell she wasn't asleep. The way her pillow was positioned, the slight tension in her shoulders—Alaska never fully let her guard down. We were alike in that way, always half-aware, even in the safety of our supposed sanctuary.
"How long have you been here?" I asked, my voice barely more than a breath.
It had been around thirteen moons since I first arrived at the Plovis territory. Arcus, our alpha, had kept his word and offered me a place among the pack. I was grateful, in a way. The work was hard, but it was nothing I wasn't used to. The rogues had become my new family, a ragtag group of misfits bound together by shared pain and survival. Of all of them, Alaska had become my closest companion, my sister in all but blood.
"Over a hundred moons," she replied, her voice low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot. She turned over to face me, her sharp eyes softened by the darkness. "Get some rest, Bee. We're gonna need it for the festival tomorrow."
"Would you ever leave?" I asked, my voice tinged with a longing I couldn't quite suppress. Things were... okay here. Safe, even. But there was a fire inside me, a restless yearning for something more, something beyond the mountain that loomed over our territory like a silent sentinel.
Alaska smiled, a rare, gentle expression that softened the hard edges of her face. "Only if you were by my side," she said, and I believed her. Alaska was the kind of person who didn't give her loyalty easily, but once she did, it was unbreakable. We giggled quietly.
I moved closer to her, the thin blanket around me doing little to ward off the chill of the night. "Do you ever wonder what's beyond the mountain?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if the question itself was too dangerous to speak aloud.
Alaska's eyes widened in the darkness, a mix of surprise and concern. "No, and you shouldn't either," she warned, her voice firm. "Humans don't take too kindly to Weres."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. She didn't mean to hurt me, but the reminder was a sharp sting, one that I had grown used to but could never fully ignore. "...But I'm not," I said quietly, the weight of my mixed heritage pressing down on me like a leaden cloak.
"Don't you dare start that nonsense," Alaska said fiercely, reaching out to grab my hand. Her grip was strong, comforting. "If anyone has the heart of a wolf, it's you."
The last full moon, when the others shifted, Alaska's wolf, Valana, would stay close to me, refusing to leave my side. Alaska believed it was because Valana could sense my wolf's presence, hidden deep within me. Whether too scared or not there at all would have made no difference.
