"Isolde! Isolde, come on!" Her younger brother's voice rang through the meadow, bright and full of laughter. He spun in circles, his small arms outstretched like wings.
"Alright, I'm coming!" Isolde giggled, chasing after him. The cool grass tickled her bare feet, and the soft hum of the forest was a melody she had known all her life.
Her mother's voice called from the house. "Don't go too far, children! Dinner will be ready soon!"
"Papa will be back by then," Isolde said with a grin, twirling beside her brother. She loved the way her father always lifted her high into the air when he returned. It made her feel invincible.
But then, the world changed in an instant.
The forest went silent, there was an unnatural stillness settling over them. Isolde's laughter faltered, and her brother slowed his spinning.
"Isolde?" he whispered, clutching her arm.
"Stay close to me," she murmured, her voice trembling as she scanned the treeline.
The first scream tore through the quiet night, it was sharp and terrifying. Isolde froze, her heart pounding. "Mama…" she whispered.
They turned toward the house, and that's when she saw her father standing firm, his claws were extended, his roar echoing through the chaos as invaders surged toward their home.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice fierce and desperate.
"Papa!" Isolde cried, but her mother appeared, grabbing her and her brother by the arms.
"Hide! Don't come out until it's safe!" Her mother's voice was thick with urgency, her eyes wide with fear.
Isolde shook her head. "No, I can help! I can—"
"No!" Her mother's tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument. She shoved them toward the bushes. "Go!"
Isolde's brother sobbed as she pulled him into the underbrush, their small bodies trembling as they crouched together. Through the leaves, she saw flashes of fur, the gleam of claws, and the spray of blood. Her father's growls mixed with the invaders' snarls.
Then, silence.
"Isolde…" Her brother's voice was barely a whisper.
"Shh," she said, holding him tightly, even as tears streamed down her face.
When it was finally quiet, she emerged, her legs shaking. The sight before her made her stomach turn. Her pack, her family, they were gone. Her father's strong arms would never lift her again, and her mother's laughter would never again fill their home.
"Papa?" she whispered, stepping closer to his lifeless form. "Mama?"
There was no answer, only the haunting stillness of the aftermath.
Months later, Isolde found herself standing at the gates of Kaelen's pack. She was filthy, her once-bright eyes dulled by grief and exhaustion. The wolves who had brought her there didn't even bother to look back as they left her behind.
"Who's this?" a gruff voice demanded.
Isolde flinched, looking up to see a tall man with sharp features and cold eyes.
"An orphan," one of the guards replied. "From the neighbouring pack. They didn't want her."
The man sneered. "Weakling."
Isolde lowered her gaze, her fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to scream, to tell them she wasn't weak. But her voice stayed silent.
Kaelen's pack was nothing like her old one.
"Faster, girl! We don't have all day!" A wolf barked at her as she struggled to carry a heavy basket of vegetables into the kitchen.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, her back aching.
She worked tirelessly, scrubbing floors, washing dishes, and doing anything to keep herself unnoticed. Being invisible was the only way to survive.
But Kaelen? He was impossible to ignore.
The first time she saw him, he was leading a group of warriors through the clearing. His broad shoulders and commanding presence made her heart skip a beat.
"Who's that?" she had whispered to another servant.
"That's Kaelen. The Alpha," the girl had replied with a smirk. "Don't even think about it. He doesn't look at girls like us."
Isolde had nodded, but her eyes lingered on him. She couldn't help it. There was something about him—the way he held his head high, the fire in his gaze—that drew her in.
One evening, as she worked in the kitchen, Kaelen entered the room.
The air seemed to shift, the chatter of the other servants fading as his presence filled the space. Isolde kept her head down, scrubbing a pot with shaky hands.
"Alpha," one of the cooks greeted him. "What can we do for you?"
"I'm just passing through," Kaelen replied, his deep voice sending a shiver down Isolde's spine.
As he turned to leave, his eyes landed on her. Isolde froze, her heart pounding in her chest. His gaze was intense, almost curious, and it lingered for a moment longer than it should have.
"Who's that?" he asked, nodding in her direction.
Isolde's breath caught.
"Just a servant, Alpha," the cook said dismissively.
Kaelen's lips twitched, but he said nothing more before walking away.
From that day on, Isolde couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to find her in a crowd. He never said anything, never acknowledged her presence beyond those fleeting glances. But each time, her heart raced.
"Stop it," she whispered to herself one night as she lay in bed. "He's the Alpha. He doesn't care about you."
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop dreaming.