Survival, Nate.

It's been a grueling journey, over a month of relentless travel through desolate landscapes. The once bustling towns now lay in ruins, skeletal outlines of what they used to be. My strength is waning, drained by the persistent pain of my unhealing wound, cursed by the lingering wolfsbane.

Just when I thought I couldn't take another step, I spot a faint outline of a hut in the distance. It seems like an oasis in this barren wasteland. With the last dregs of my energy, I drag myself towards it, each movement a struggle against the throbbing agony in my back.

As I draw closer, the hut looms larger than expected. Its presence is both comforting and intimidating, a beacon of hope amidst the desolation. With a mixture of desperation and trepidation, I reach the door.

The door swings open, startling me. In my weakened state, I stumble backward, hind legs slipping beneath me. I crash to the ground, landing hard on my back. The impact sends searing pain through my body, and everything goes dark as unconsciousness claims me.

*

I wake up to the intoxicating aroma of something mouthwatering. Blinking open my eyes, I find myself cocooned in warm blankets, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality I had been living in. My gaze lands on a human—a stunningly beautiful man—placing the juiciest steak I've seen in months on a tiny kitchen counter.

My instincts immediately go on high alert, years of survival in a harsh world of wolf shifters and dangers making me wary. Yet, there's something different about this man. He exudes the scent of wolf shifters, but intertwined with it is a subtle hint of herbs and flowers, a strange and enticing combination.

"Oh, you're awake!" His voice is gentle, soothing, and for a moment, I forget to be wary as I study him. He's not handsome in the traditional sense; he's beautiful, ethereal even. In my mind, he resembles a male version of Freya with his soft blue eyes and fluffy looking curly blonde hair, but with an otherworldly allure that captivates.

As he speaks, assuring me of my safety in this remote refuge, I can't help but remain cautious. Wolves are not known for their kindness, but his demeanor is sincere, his eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Turning inward, I consult my wolf, seeking her opinion. 'SAFE,' she whispers, a reassuring presence that has guided me through countless trials.

Taking a deep breath, I begin the slow and deliberate process of shifting back to my human form. The ache and exhaustion wash over me anew, but I push through, determined to face this enigmatic man as my true self.

When the transformation is complete, I stand before him, naked and vulnerable yet unyielding.

"Hello, thank you for bringing me in. I'm Ember," I offer, feeling a mixture of gratitude and wariness towards Nate, the ethereal man who rescued me.

"No problem at all, Ember. Anyone would have done the same," Nate responds with a warm smile, though I notice a hint of nervousness in his demeanor. It's amusing, really, to see a wolf shifter flustered by nudity. Suppressing a chuckle, I watch as he hurries off, presumably in search of something to cover me.

He returns with a blanket, a kind gesture that I appreciate, but as he moves to drape it over me, I instinctively shy away. The gaping wound on my back is a stark reminder of the danger I faced, and I can see the surprise in Nate's eyes as I reveal it. It must look worse than I imagined.

"Well, I have food and we can tend to your back. Don't worry about it," Nate says, trying to reassure me. "I tend to prefer flat chests and penises, so just be comfortable."

His candid statement catches me off guard, and despite the pain and weariness, I can't help but let out a soft laugh. "Noted," I reply with a grin, feeling a sense of ease settling over me in Nate's presence. He brings over a large piece of steak, already cut into pieces, and places it before me on the floor.

I eye the food hungrily, realizing how famished I truly am. With a grateful nod, I reach for a piece of the juicy steak, savoring the flavor as it fills my mouth. Nate watches me with a gentle smile, his eyes kind and understanding.

As I eat, Nate busies himself with gathering supplies to tend to my wound. I can't help but admire him, not just for his striking appearance but for his kindness and compassion. Despite the circumstances, I feel a glimmer of hope stirring within me.

"Thank you, Nate," I finally speak up between bites of steak. "For everything."

Following the satisfying meal, Nate leads me to a bathtub filled with warm water. I gratefully sink into the soothing embrace of the water, leaning back against the side of the tub. As I relax, Nate leaves the room momentarily, returning with an assortment of random kitchen knives. It's clear he's not a trained healer, but the alternative of letting the wound fester is far worse.

Laying out the knives on a nearby table, Nate's expression is focused yet uncertain. I watch him with a mixture of apprehension and trust, knowing that despite his lack of expertise, he's trying to help.

As he begins to inspect the wound, I feel an unusual heaviness settling over me. My eyelids droop, and a wave of drowsiness washes over me. Panic flares briefly before a realization hits me—Nate must have drugged me.

Struggling against the creeping lethargy, I guess I'm better off unconscious when he clumsily decides to cut off and sterilize my wound I guess.

*

I wake up in a state of warmth and comfort that I haven't felt in weeks. Blinking sleepily, I turn to see a tangle of curly blonde hair beside me in the large bed. The bundle snores softly, oblivious to the world, and shifts in its sleep. Quietly slipping out of the bed, I search for a robe in the closet, wrapping it around myself for modesty.

Leaving the room, I navigate through the unfamiliar space until I find a bathroom. The warm water of the shower soothes my tired muscles, and I take my time washing my face, rinsing my mouth with mouthwash, trying to recreate some semblance of a normal morning routine.

As I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, I'm struck by the changes. My hair, once dyed a blonde shade for most of my adult life to fit the Jake's preferences, has grown out to its natural fiery red. It's a stark reminder of the life I've left behind, the life I tried so desperately to conform to.

Examining my reflection further, I notice the protruding collarbones, the sharp outline of ribs, and the freckles that stand out against my pale skin. I hardly recognize myself anymore. Weeks in wolf form, wounded and starving have taken their toll.

I was engaged—or rather, promised—to Jake, the next Alpha of the pack, by our fathers. It was a decision made to please my own father, who had taken me in after my mother, a lone wolf, abandoned me in front of his house. Desperate not to be abandoned again, I molded myself into the perfect daughter, the perfect alpha mate candidate.

I excelled in my classes, took on volunteer work, attended cooking and motherhood classes, and even enrolled in leadership courses. At the young age of 14, I overheard Jake, then 20, talking about his preference for "cute, slender,tiny, blonde girls." That moment marked the beginning of two decades of dyeing my hair blonde and subjecting myself to punishing diets and unrealistic beauty standards.

Genetics, however, had other plans. I grew to a statuesque 5'8", with curves that defied the ideal I was trying to achieve. Yet, I persisted, desperate to be what Jake wanted. Until he brought his true mate home, and I realized I was nothing more than a cheap imitation of her. It was a very painful slap to the face.

Lost in my thoughts, I'm jolted back to reality when Nate's voice breaks through. "So you're in here. Let's go have some breakfast," he says, pulling me from my reverie. How long have I been standing here, lost in memories and self-reflection? I shake my head slightly, splashing my face with water to clear my mind, and follow Nate out of the bathroom.