The Girl Who Dreamed
Kira
Growing up, I believed in soulmates. My mother used to laugh whenever I talked about them, not because she thought I was foolish, but because every child in our clan eventually became obsessed with the idea. Who would they be? When would we find them? Would it happen at sixteen, twenty, thirty? No one ever knew. “The Moon Goddess has her own schedule,” my mother would always say. As a child, I loved that answer. As an adult, I had learned to distrust it.
I sat on the rocky cliffs overlooking the forest and watched the last sunlight disappear behind the mountains. The evening breeze tugged at my long, dark hair, and the cold air carried the scents of pine, stone, and the distant training grounds below. Luna, my silver-furred companion, stretched beside me. She was small enough to curl against my ribs when she slept, but there was something about her that had never felt entirely ordinary. Her pale silver coat shimmered in moonlight, and her eyes held an intelligence that sometimes made me wonder whether she understood far more than I did.
I scratched behind my ears. I purred immediately. “You’re spoiled.” I opened one eye and gave me a look of deep offense. I laughed. Moments like this were my favorite because they were simple, quiet, and safe.
Home had never been quite as simple as outsiders imagined. I was a werecat, born into the Ashclaw clan, but our clan had lived for generations under the protection of Moonfang Pack. My father had been one of Moonfang’s most trusted combat captains, and when I was still young, my mother and I moved permanently into Moonfang territory. That was how I had grown up alongside wolves. Ronan Blackwood had been there almost from the beginning.
He had been the Alpha’s son when we were children, all sharp elbows and impossible confidence. I had hated him the first time he beat me in a sparring match. He had been eleven. I had been nine. I spent an entire week plotting how to defeat him, and when I finally did, he laughed so hard that I nearly hit him again. After that, we trained together constantly. We raced through the forest, stole food from the kitchens, argued over everything, and covered for each other whenever we broke rules. By the time Ronan became Alpha, our friendship had become part of the fabric of my life.
That was why I remained in Moonfang. It was my home too. The wolves knew me. I knew their families, their training grounds, their traditions, their strengths and weaknesses. I was not a visitor in Ronan’s pack. I was one of its warriors, even if my cat blood made some of the older wolves uncomfortable. Most of the younger generation barely cared. They had grown up fighting beside me.
Being a werecat warrior was unusual, especially for a woman, but I had never been interested in doing what was expected of me simply because it was expected. Most females in our clan chose healing, teaching, or administration. I had chosen combat. My father never questioned it. “If that’s what makes you happy,” he used to tell me, “then let the rest complain.” I missed him. Three years had passed since his death, but grief had a way of ignoring calendars.
Sometimes I still expected to hear his boots outside the house. Sometimes I caught myself turning toward the training grounds because I wanted to tell him about a new technique I had learned. Then reality would return, and I would remember that the man who had taught me how to fight would never watch me use those lessons again.
I had spent years trying to become strong enough that I would never again feel helpless. Perhaps that was why I was so determined to be a warrior. Strength gave me choices. Choices gave me freedom. And freedom was something I valued more than almost anything.
Below me, laughter drifted up from the training grounds. Younger shifters were sparring beneath the evening lanterns, their excitement obvious. Mating season was approaching, and everyone was talking about soulmates. I was twenty-two and still unmated. Part of me pretended I didn’t care. Another part had spent years imagining what my mate might be like: someone brave, someone kind, someone who would see me as I rather than as a useful warrior or an unusual werecat. Someone who would choose me because they wanted me.
The sound of a horn echoed from below. Luna’s ears perked. Mine did too.
A patrol was returning.
I stood and looked toward the gates. Silver banners moved between the trees, followed by a column of Moonfang warriors. At their center rode Ronan.
Even from a distance, I could recognize him. He was taller than the boy I had grown up with, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with thick black hair that had grown longer over the years and sharp silver eyes that seemed almost luminous beneath the fading light. A narrow scar cut through one eyebrow, a souvenir from his first real battle as Alpha. He carried himself differently now. He was no longer the reckless boy who raced me through the forest. He was a leader carrying the weight of an entire pack on his shoulders.
Yet when his gaze lifted toward the cliffs and found me, something familiar passed between us.
He raised one hand.
I smiled and raised mine.
Neither of us knew that by tomorrow, the friendship we had built over a lifetime would be tested by something neither of us could control.
The Moon Goddess had finally chosen.
And I had chosen us.
