The smell of a new day.
I pause to take in my surroundings, closing my eyes to draw a deep breath. The scent of dawn envelops me, carrying the crispness of morning dew and the invigorating fragrance of pine. Sunlight’s first gentle caresses warm my skin, and beneath my feet, the lush moss cushions like a plush pillow, soft and comforting. The occasional snap of twigs beneath my boots and the cool dampness of the earth send a thrilling shiver up my spine. It's a symphony of sensations, nature's way of heralding the day's beginning.
A grin tugs at my lips, and I start running again, picking up speed as I weave through the trees. The sound of footsteps closing in behind me makes my heart quicken. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see my brother Michael dart past me, a blur of movement.
"The last one is a scared cub!" he taunts, his voice bright with mischief. He shoots me a cheeky grin over his shoulder, leaving me behind in a flurry of leaves.
"Hey, Michael, that's not fair! You're making me lose my concentration!" I shout back, raising my arms in mock frustration. I stop for a moment, sweeping my long, curly black hair from my eyes, taking in the world around me.
“Maya, Tamara is still far back. You’re certainly not the last one!” Tristan’s voice comes from behind, breathless but light. His gray eyes twinkle with playful amusement, and he winks before surging ahead again. I fall in beside him, determined not to lag behind.
The finish line—a narrow strip of land at the edge of a cliff—comes into view. Michael leaps into the air, his triumphant shout echoing, "Woo-hoo!" before he dives head first into the water below. His body cuts through the surface with a tremendous splash, and seconds later, Tristan follows, his holler echoing before the water swallows him up with a smaller, yet equally playful, splash.
I reach the cliff’s edge, my heart racing, and peer over. The world drops away, a dizzying void beneath me. My breath catches in my throat.
“Hey, you’re not chickening out, are you?” Michael calls from the water below, laughter in his voice.
“No, I’m not—AAAAA!” I scream as strong hands grab me from behind, and suddenly, I’m airborne, plummeting downwards. The water rises to meet me, and I plunge into the cool depths with a rush of bubbles. The shock of the cold steals my breath, and for a moment, I’m lost in the blur of feet and foam above me.
I kick upward, reaching for the surface, breaking through just in time to see Tommy's smirking face. I swim toward him, plant a quick kiss on his cheek, and dart away, laughter bubbling from my lips.
“Ugh, Michael! Your sister just kissed me on the cheek!” Tommy groans, rubbing the spot as if wiping away something gross.
I let out a laugh that echoes across the water. “It’s your own fault for bringing her along!” Michael shouts back, grinning.
“Tamara, are you coming or not?” Tristan yells up at his twin sister, his voice carrying across the water. We all turn to look.
Tamara stands at the top of the cliff, her arms crossed and a frown tugging at her lips. “I’ll take the trail,” she declares, shaking her head.
Once she disappears from sight, Tristan shrugs. “I can’t fathom why she’s so timid.”
“She took all the caution, and you took all the recklessness,” I reply with a grin. “Not a bad balance, if you ask me.”
Michael laughs. “Yeah, and let’s not forget last week’s disaster with the fermented moonshine. That stuff left you vomiting quicker than a jester from the king's court!”
We burst into laughter, the sound echoing around us, light and carefree. We make our way to the riverbank, collapsing onto the soft grass, the sun warm on our skin.
“I could stay here forever,” Michael murmurs dreamily, his eyes half-closed.
A hum of agreement ripples through the group. But the peace is short-lived. Faint voices reach us, carried on the breeze, and we all sit up, alert.
A voice threads through my mind, clear and commanding: *Prince Michael and Princess Maya. Are you near the river?*
“Yes, we’re beneath the cliff, on the grassy expanse,” I reply through the mental link.
“Stay calm. A small group of refugees from the South is seeking asylum,” the voice continues. The connection fades, leaving a weight in the air.
Another group of refugees from the South? The second this month? The thought sends a ripple of unease through me.
Tristan frowns, echoing my thoughts. “What’s happening?”
“It’s another group of refugees,” I reply, keeping my voice steady.
Tristan’s expression darkens. “Another group?” he mutters, glancing back at the approaching figures. “That’s the second time this month.”
Two of our warriors emerge from the forest, flanking an elderly couple. The newcomers look exhausted, their clothes torn and dirty, their faces lined with fatigue. They’ve clearly travelled far, fleeing the conflict raging in their homeland.
Four women follow, one carrying a small cub in her arms. Michael steps forward, his tone gentle. “Hello, sweet little princess. What's your name?”
The girl hides her face in her mother’s hair.
“Her name is Johanna, sir,” the woman replies.
“Prince Michael,” one of the warriors corrects.
Michael’s expression darkens. “Nonsense, there was no way for her to know.”
The child tugs at her mother’s sleeve. “Mummy, the prince must help Alexa,” she whispers urgently.
“What happened to Alexa?” I ask, moving closer.
“The Rogues… they hurt her badly,” the woman explains. “My husband is carrying her on his back.”
Two wolves emerge from the woods. One is gray, the other a mottled gray with a black patch around its eye. On the gray wolf's back is a woman, her fists clenched in his fur.
I rush to them. The wolf nods at me, granting permission. I nod back and examine her wounds. There’s so much blood… but some of the gashes are already beginning to heal. Relief wars with anxiety in my chest.
“Princess Maya is our best at first aid,” Tristan says as he joins me, his tone meant to reassure.
“Tristan, we need to lay her down. I can’t work like this,” I command, my hands already moving to help.
The gray wolf whimpers but steps aside, allowing Tristan to take the woman into his arms. Her eyes flutter open, glazed with pain. Her tattered shirt reveals deep claw marks, some healing, but one wound near her abdomen is still bleeding heavily. Too heavily. A wound like that should have stopped bleeding by now.
“Tristan, keep the wound open. I need to check for fragments,” I instruct.
Tristan nods, extending his claws with care, his face tense with concentration. Alexa screams, a sound so raw it makes my heart clench. Birds scatter into the sky.
Behind us, Michael’s growl echoes, low and threatening. His eyes burn with an intense, deep orange glow, his claws flexed and ready. His wolf, Killian, has surfaced, and he is furious.
“Stay away from Mate!” Killian roars, his voice a growl of possessive fury. Men move quickly to restrain Michael's body, but his gaze never leaves Alexa, filled with a primal intensity.
I push past the tension, ignoring everything but the task at hand. My fingers search the wound, finally grasping something sharp. I pull it free—a rogue’s claw, stained with blood. “Killian, the claw is out. Your mate will live,” I declare.
Michael’s tension melts away. He moves to Alexa’s side, cradling her with such tenderness it makes my heart ache. “Mate…” Alexa whispers weakly. “Where is my mate?”
Michael’s eyes soften, all his anger gone. “I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I’m here, and I’ll never let you go.”
I stand back, watching as they hold each other. The connection between them is palpable, a new bond forming right before my eyes. I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy, a longing in my chest. Michael walks past me, carrying Alexa as if she’s the most precious thing in the world, while the others trail behind him.
For a moment, I stand alone, watching them disappear into the forest, my heart filled with a strange mix of happiness and yearning.
