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Ai Lin ran.
Not the way humans run. Lightly, almost weightlessly, barely touching the ground. Magic flowed through her veins, lightening her body, quickening her steps. Leah in her arms weighed surprisingly little. Too little for an adult.
Don't think. Run. Save her.
Pre-dawn haze painted the sky gray. Trees became more distinct with each minute. She had to reach shelter before sunrise.
The cave was close. An old refuge where she'd hidden as a child when the world became too loud, too dangerous. No one knew about it. Not even grandmother.
She turned off the trail, pushed through dense undergrowth. A narrow crevice between rocks, barely visible. Squeezed inside, carefully pressing Leah to her chest.
Inside was dark and dry. It smelled of earth and old ash from long-ago fires.
She laid Leah on a spread bedding against the far wall. Quickly lit a fire. The flame flared obediently, illuminating stone walls with warm orange light.
Then returned to Leah.
Blood. Too much blood. On her shirt, on her arms, on her face. A deep cut in her shoulder, a ragged wound on her side, broken knuckles. Bruises already spreading across her ribs in dark patches.
She clenched her teeth and set to work.
Pulled off Leah's bloodied clothes, tossed them aside. Pulled herbs, bandages, a clay jug of water from her bag. Began washing wounds, one after another, methodically, as grandmother had taught.
The cut in her shoulder was deep. The knife had gone almost to bone. Edges ragged.
How did she even walk here?
She applied a compress of crushed herbs, bandaged tightly. Then treated the wound on her side, wrapped her ribs. Her hands moved on their own, automatically, while thoughts raced.
Hunters. They came back. They're looking for me. And she... she stood between us.
Leah moaned in her sleep, her face contorting with pain.
Ai Lin froze. Looked at her hands. At fingers from which emanated a faint, barely visible glow.
Can't. Magic leaves a trace. If they sense it...
But Leah moaned again. Quieter. Weaker.
To hell with it.
She placed her palms on the bandaged shoulder. Closed her eyes. Let magic flow. Just a little. A thin stream. Just enough to ease the pain, so the body could begin healing on its own.
Warmth spread under her fingers. Leah's breathing evened out, muscles relaxed.
Ai Lin pulled her hands away, recoiled. Her heart pounded. She hadn't used magic for healing since the landslide. Had sworn to herself never again.
But this is Leah.
She looked at the sleeping face. Pale, exhausted, but with such... honesty in it. Openness. Even now, unconscious.
The one who searched for me for a year.
And suddenly, looking at the sleeping woman, memory struck like a wave.
***
A YEAR AGO
Night. Dark forest. The metallic clang of bonds compressing wrists, ankles, neck.
Ai Lin lay as a dragon on cold ground, unable to move. The magic of metal burned her skin, drained her strength. Around her stood hunters. Eight. Maybe nine. With torches, with weapons.
"Caught her," one said, crouching nearby. Face in shadow. "Finally. The boss will be pleased."
An attempt to transform proved futile. The bonds held firm, bit into flesh with each attempt to summon magic.
"We'll take her in the morning," the hunter continued. "Let her rest. We need her alive."
Cold, all-consuming fear flooded everything inside.
This is the end. It's over.
The hunters stepped aside, began discussing the route for delivering their captive. Voices muffled but audible: "through the pass," "to the boss," "reward."
And suddenly, rustling in the bushes.
The hunters didn't hear, didn't notice.
A wolf emerged from darkness.
Enormous, with ash-colored fur. Golden eyes burned in the torchlight. Moving slowly, cautiously, sniffing. Head lowered. Ears flattened.
Stopped a few paces from her.
Raised its muzzle.
Their gazes met.
And then... then the world exploded.
Not with pain. Not with light. With something else. Something impossible.
Connection.
Instant, all-consuming, piercing through. As if an invisible thread stretched between them, bound them fast, wove souls together.
The magic inside howled, responded to the call.
To... imprinting?
No. Can't be. Imprinting only for dragons and dragons. Not for wolves. Never for wolves.
But the thread blazed. Hot and insistent, demanding and absolute, leaving no doubt.
And Ai Lin understood. This wasn't just a wolf. A shifter. A wolf-girl.
The imprint hadn't worked on the beast. On her. On the one hiding beneath fur and fangs.
The wolf froze. Its whole body tensed. In those golden pupils flared something primal. Recognition. Claim. Fury.
One of the hunters, smirking, stepped toward the bound dragon, but noticing the wolf, froze.
"What the hell is that?"
And swung his club.
The wolf exploded into motion.
A growl low and full of rage tore through the silence, shaking the earth. She crashed into the hunter, knocked him down. He didn't even have time to scream. Fangs clamped on his leg. A crunch. A scream.
This wasn't just an attack. This was defense. Furious, merciless, blind.
The others grabbed their weapons, but the beast was faster. Without releasing her jaws, the wolf bolted into the forest darkness, dragging her prey. The others ran after them with shouts.
One of the pursuers stumbled over a root, fell. His hand jerked, caught the bonds on Ai Lin's paw.
The clang of metal. One of the chains loosened, slipped off.
Running footsteps. Shouts. Darkness swallowed them.
Ai Lin remained alone.
She lay on cold ground. Bonds still compressed her body: neck, wings, second paw. But one paw was free.
Need to run. Now. Immediately.
She lunged with the freed paw, caught the bonds on her neck. Pulled. Metal bit in but gave way. Millimeter by millimeter.
Panic gave strength. Desperation.
Magic inside howled. Flared in response to fear, surged into the free paw.
Heat pierced her claws. The bonds on her neck smoked, heated, cracked. Snapped.
Neck free. Now wings.
She tore the remaining chains with claws, teeth, magic. One by one they fell, ringing against stones.
The dragon rose on her paws, spread her wings.
And soared into the air.
Away from the clearing. From the hunters.
From the impossible connection that frightened her more than death.
She flew through the night, and tears froze on her scales.
The thread stretched behind her. Ached. Wouldn't let go.
***
Ai Lin opened her eyes. Her breathing was ragged. Hands trembled, gripping the edge of the blanket.
She looked at the woman sleeping nearby.
That same one. That wolf-girl.
The bond. She'd felt it all year. Weak, muffled, but constant. Pulling somewhere west. She'd tried to ignore it. Close herself off with magic. Convince herself it was a mistake, that the thread would weaken, would be forgotten.
Lies and self-deception.
And then, two weeks ago, during the landslide...
She appeared. Dirty, covered in others' blood, desperation in her eyes, hands full of inhuman strength. And the imprint flared again. Bright. Undeniable. Unbearable.
She searched for me. All year. Wandered through these mountains, pushed through forests.
She covered her face with her hands, holding back the sob that churned in her chest.
I can't. Can't let her stay. They'll kill her. Without blinking. Just to get to me.
She stood, walked to the entrance. Leaned against the cold wall, pressed her palm to stone, feeling its rough surface, clinging to reality.
The only one I would want beside me. And I have to push her away. Again. One last time.
She returned to the fire. Sat beside it on the stone floor. Tossed kindling into the flames. Wearily closed her eyes.
Too much for one night. Too much pain, fear, memories.
She didn't notice when she fell into heavy, restless sleep, where again and again she saw golden eyes in darkness and felt the thread pull in her chest.
***
She woke to the first rays of sun breaking through the entrance.
Opened her eyes, for a second not understanding where she was. Her neck was stiff. Back ached. Then remembered.
Wounded Leah.
Ai Lin sat up sharply, looked at the girl sleeping nearby.
Even breathing. Face relaxed, without traces of pain. Good.
She leaned over, carefully began removing the bandage from her shoulder.
And froze.
The deep cut that just last night had gaped like a ragged wound almost to bone...
Had almost healed.
The edges of skin had closed, leaving only a pink line, slightly raised. Tissue beneath fresh but no longer bleeding.
She removed the bandage from her side. The ragged wound there had also half-healed. Skin had drawn together, closed the deepest part. Bruises on ribs had gone from dark purple to yellowish-green.
In a few hours.
So fast...
Her breath caught.
She'd used magic. Very little. But not enough to explain such healing. Even dragons didn't recover this quickly without full healing.
And then she remembered.
The landslide. Two weeks ago. Leah had been wounded then too: deep cuts, bruises. But by the next day...
That's why her wounds healed so fast then. She's different. Not an ordinary human.
Werewolf.
Everything fell into place completely. The strength with which she'd fought last night. Speed. Endurance.
She's the one. Found me. Stayed. Protected me. Nearly died for me.
Her throat tightened.
And I have to let her go. For her own sake.
She re-bandaged the wounds with quick, precise movements, trying not to wake her. Then stood, took the jug, went out.
Dawn painted the sky in delicate pink and gold tones. Milky haze spread between trees in thick cover. Somewhere a bird sang, greeting morning.
She descended to the stream, scooped cold water. Washed her face, chasing away the remnants of sleep. Breathed in the cold morning air.
Today she'll wake. And I'll tell her to leave. One last time. Forever.
She filled the jug and slowly walked back.
***
The shelter smelled of smoke, dampness, and herbs. Leah opened her eyes, and the first thing she felt was dull, penetrating pain. Every movement echoed in her ribs, shoulder, broken knuckles. But along with pain came clarity of memory.
Night. Dark forest. The clang of chain. Hunters' faces in flashlight beams. And a hoarse, strained voice:
"They mistook... they're looking for you..."
The last thing she remembered: warmth of hands holding her firmly, and the smell of rain mixed with ozone.
Ai Lin.
She sat up sharply, overcoming dizziness. No one was there. Smoldering coals weakly illuminated stone walls, her backpack in the corner, and a clay jug of water. Nothing else.
Panic, cold and merciless, gripped her throat.
Again. Again she's gone.
"No," she whispered to herself, standing. "No, it can't be. Not after this."
Swaying, she ran outside, bursting into cold morning air. Light was just beginning to break through the thick haze enveloping the mountains. And there, by the narrow path leading to the stream, she saw her.
She walked slowly, carrying a full jug of water. Black hair tousled by wind, simple clothing showing spots of earth and... blood. Not hers, she understood immediately. What remained after bandaging. She looked deathly tired, as if she hadn't slept all night, and in that fatigue was such fragility that her breath caught.
She didn't think. Just ran.
Ai Lin heard footsteps and turned just as Leah reached her. Embraced her as tightly as her wounds allowed, pressed her face into her shoulder, breathing in that saving scent: rain, grass, ancient power.
"I thought you left," she breathed, and her voice broke. "I thought you disappeared again."
Ai Lin froze. Her body tensed like a string. One second, another. Then she felt slightly trembling hands settle on Leah's back. Not embracing but rather accepting. Holding. This lasted several breaths, a moment of quiet, wordless acknowledgment of what they'd both survived.
Then carefully but firmly, Ai Lin freed herself from the embrace. Her face became closed again, but in her eyes, tired and dark, something still glimmered.
"Spilled the water," she said quietly, lifting the jug from which drops were indeed falling. "Go inside. You need rest."
***
Breakfast was silent and simple: flatbread, warm tea of mountain herbs, a handful of dried berries. Leah ate, feeling food return strength and tea's warmth chase away remnants of night's cold. Every glance thrown at the woman sitting opposite, methodically breaking her flatbread, stirred a whirlwind of emotions in her chest: gratitude, anxiety, and that same insistent, commanding feeling of connection that wouldn't let go.
Leah couldn't be silent anymore.
"Ai Lin," she began, setting down her cup. The sound of her own voice in the silence seemed loud. "I need to tell you something. I want to explain. Who I am. Where I'm from. Why I'm here."
Ai Lin raised her gaze. In it was neither curiosity nor expectation, only deep, exhausted caution.
"No," she said simply and clearly. "Not now."
"But..."
"We'll talk later," she interrupted, standing. She gathered the remains of food with quick, precise movements. "Right now I need to go down. To the village. And to grandmother. I have to find out what happened after... after our clash. Make sure they're safe."
Leah jumped to her feet, forgetting the pain in her ribs.
"I'll go with you."
It didn't sound like an offer but a declaration. A need.
Ai Lin turned, and now in her eyes was not caution but cold, honed determination.
"No. You'll stay here."
"But I can help! I can protect..."
"You're wounded," she cut off, and for the first time steel rang in her voice. "You can barely stand. What if you run into them again? You can't fight like you did yesterday. And I won't be able to protect you."
Ai Lin paused, softening her tone but not backing down.
"And you're too noticeable. You're a foreigner. Anyone within ten meters will notice and remember you. I need to be invisible and quiet. You'll be like a living beacon for them. I can't let you come with me."
The arguments hit their mark precisely. Fury, the desire to act shattered against stone logic of survival. She clenched her fists, feeling nails dig into palms.
"What if something happens to you?" Leah breathed, and in that question was all the helplessness accumulated over a year.
For a moment something wavered in Ai Lin's mask, her gaze softened, became almost... sad.
"Then you'll know fighting for me made no sense," she said quietly. "Stay here. Hide. If I don't return by sunset... then do what you must. But not before."
She took her canvas bag, slung it over her shoulder, and without looking back, went out, dissolving into the morning haze as silently as she'd appeared.
Leah stood in the middle of the stone shelter, listening to footsteps fade. The feeling of helplessness was bitter and familiar. But this time there was something else. Trust, so fragile, newborn, that had put her life on pause.
Slowly she sank by the fire, tossed an armful of kindling into smoldering coals, and prepared to wait.
***
The hours dragged agonizingly. Every rustle outside made her flinch, every distant bird cry echoed with alarm in her chest. Leah repaired torn harness on her backpack, sharpened a knife on stone, watched the patch of light at the entrance slowly crawl across the wall, marking time's passage.
She waited. As promised. And in this forced stillness, for the first time in many years, learned not to run but simply to be. To be and hope that the one she'd found would return.
***
The sun was already touching mountain peaks, painting the sky in deep, melancholy tones, when footsteps sounded at the entrance. Leah, dozing by the fire, jumped up as if scalded.
Ai Lin entered, casting a long shadow on the wall. She looked even more exhausted than in the morning. Fresh traces of dust on her clothes, and dark circles lay under her eyes, but in her hands she carried a full bag: onions, several potatoes, a bundle of dried fish.
"Ai Lin," Leah breathed, and relief flooded in such a wave that her legs weakened for a moment. She wanted to rush to her, but something in the closed, at-the-limit appearance stopped her. She just stood, clenching and unclenching her fists. "You're... whole."
"Whole," she nodded briefly, lowering the bag onto stone. Her movements were slow, as if each required effort. "Grandmother is fine. But they came to her."
She fell silent, kindling the fire to boil water. Leah watched silently, giving her time to gather thoughts.
"Two men," she finally said, looking at the flames. "Not local. Spoke with accents. Asked about... a doctor. Or healer. One who can treat difficult illnesses."
Ice ran down Leah's spine.
"What did she answer?"
The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile devoid of humor.
"Said her granddaughter is an uneducated village girl, and she herself only knows old poultices. Then added she'd heard some healer wanders distant villages but doesn't know the name. They... believed. Or pretended to. Left. But not far. They were seen in Jingshui, the neighboring village down the valley. Renting a room."
Ai Lin poured boiling water into two cups, threw in a pinch of tea leaves.
"They won't leave," she added quietly, and in her voice sounded not anxiety but cold, clear certainty. "They're waiting."
***
All evening Ai Lin felt that waiting, heavy as lead, hanging between them. She cooked dinner simple soup with potatoes and fish silently, focused, as if performing a complex ritual. Answered questions monosyllabically, often turned away, her gaze wandering somewhere beyond the stone walls.
"Ai Lin," Leah tried again when they sat over almost empty bowls. "We need to talk. About what comes next. About the hunters. About... about me."
"Tomorrow," she cut off, standing and beginning to wash dishes. "Today I'm too tired to think. And you should rest too. Your wounds are still fresh."
There was no room for objections in her tone. This wasn't rudeness but a desperate attempt to wall herself off, postpone the inevitable. Leah saw how her hands trembled as she wiped a bowl. Saw the tension in her shoulders.
She's planning something. Something she doesn't want to tell me.
But pushing now meant breaking the fragile trust that had emerged over this day. Leah gritted her teeth and nodded.
"All right. Tomorrow."
***
Night in the stone shelter turned icy. They lay on opposite sides of the dying fire, wrapped in their blankets. Leah tossed and turned for a long time, listening to Ai Lin's breathing across from her.
Even. Too controlled. Without sleepy sighs and whimpers.
Ai Lin wasn't sleeping. Leah was certain of it.
And when the sky beyond the entrance began to lighten, Leah, worn out by anxiety, finally fell into brief, troubled sleep.
***
Silence woke her.
Not that living silence filled with breathing, but empty, ringing silence.
Leah opened her eyes. The fire was out. On the stone by the entrance sat her backpack, water flask, and a bundle of food.
The stone shelter was empty.
Her heart pounded so hard she felt the beats in her throat. Emptiness. Cooled ash of the fire. Neatly left food.
She ran outside. Dawn haze, thick and milky, swallowed the world, hiding trees farther than ten paces.
"Ai Lin?!"
The voice broke from her lips in a whisper before she could hold it back. She froze, holding her breath, listening. Only drops of dew falling from needles and a distant bird cry. No footsteps, no rustling, no breathing.
Panic, sharp and acidic, rose from her stomach to throat. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, howl so the sound would pierce the white haze and mountains and make her answer. But instinct, honed by years of danger, clamped her throat in a vise. A scream is a beacon. It's death. For both of them.
She closed her eyes, fingers gripping the cold stone at the entrance. Cast aside everything: fear, rage, despair. Focused on that quiet, warm presence pulsing in her chest since that night a year ago. The imprint. The thread binding them.
Ai Lin, she sent the thought into emptiness, not in words but pure, burning impulse of alarm and call. Where are you? Answer!
In response, nothing. No flash, no return wave, no quiet whisper in consciousness. Only a deaf, unthinkable wall. As if that invisible thread connecting them wasn't just weakened but deliberately severed from the other side. Or clenched in a fist. This silence from within was more terrifying than any external threat.
Her breathing became ragged. Cold sweat broke out on her back.
To wait means to lose her forever. To go as human too slow, too noticeable.
Her actions became sharp, almost automatic. She tore off her shirt stained with blood and dust, pants, crumpled them and shoved them in the backpack atop the few remaining things. Fingers trembled as she fastened the special harness, pulling the backpack to her back so tightly the straps bit into flesh.
She straightened at the edge of white haze, naked, covered in goosebumps from cold and adrenaline. The forest around was silent and waiting.
She took one last deep breath mixing scents of pine, damp earth, and her own fear. And let go of control.
The pain of transformation rolled in a wave of convulsion through her worn body. Bones settled into place with dull crunches, muscles tore and rewove, and skin exploded with thick gray fur. In a moment at the edge of the stone shelter stood a large wolf, golden eyes burning in the half-light with determination, harness with backpack sitting tight on her back.
She lowered her muzzle to the ground, drawing in air. Hundreds of scents crashed over her: rotting leaves, metallic trace of vole, pine resin... And there, barely perceptible, the thinnest thread: ozone, mountain herbs, that same ancient essence.
The trail was weak, intermittent, as if swept over. But it was there.
The wolf let out a quiet, low growl that died in the haze, not reaching the trees. Then pushed off with powerful paws from the ground and rushed forward into white fog, dissolving in it as a soundless gray shadow.
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