Chapter Six — The Scent of Hope
The forest was alive with the hush of dawn, a gentle breeze rustling through the canopy as sunlight filtered in golden shafts between the trees. Rowan moved with purpose, his senses attuned to every sound and scent. The earthy aroma of moss and damp leaves filled his nostrils, but he sought something more elusive—the intoxicating scent that had haunted him since the battle.
‘We’ll find her,’ his wolf murmured within. ‘She was here, so she must be close.’
Rowan nodded silently, his boots crunching softly on the forest floor. The terrain grew steeper as he ascended a ridge, the underbrush thickening with ferns and brambles. Birdsong echoed above, a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. Each step was a battle between hope and despair.
‘She was here recently,’ his wolf insisted. ‘I can feel it.’
Hours passed, the sun climbing higher, casting dappled light across the landscape. Rowan paused atop a rocky outcrop, scanning the expanse below. Still nothing. His shoulders sagged, the weight of disappointment pressing down on him.
‘Maybe we were wrong,’ he thought. If his mate had been here recently, surely they would have come across her by now.
‘No,’ his wolf growled. ‘Don’t give up! She was here, I know it. We must keep searching.’
Just as he turned to descend, a breeze carried a familiar scent—sweet, wild, unmistakable. His heart leapt.
‘She’s close!’ his wolf howled. ‘I told you she was near.’
Without hesitation, Rowan sprinted toward the source, weaving through trees, leaping over roots and rocks. Branches whipped past, the forest a blur as he followed the elusive trail. The scent grew stronger, guiding him deeper into the woods.
The steady rhythm of Rowan’s breath and pounding footsteps echoed like a drumbeat of determination as he raced through the forest like the hounds of hell were chasing him.
Twigs cracked beneath his boots as he sprinted through the underbrush, leaping over fallen logs and ducking under low-hanging limbs. The scent of pine, moss, and damp earth clung to the air, but it was the intoxicating thread of her scent that pulled him forward like a lifeline.
His mate.
She was just ahead—he’d caught a glimpse of her silver-gray fur through the trees minutes ago, her sleek form darting between trunks with effortless grace. The sight had nearly stopped his heart. She was real. She was close.
And she was running from him.
Rowan’s chest burned from the exertion, muscles coiling and releasing with every step, but he didn’t slow. He couldn’t. Not when he was this close. Not after dreaming of her for so long. Every instinct within him screamed to close the distance, to claim, to protect, to know.
‘Don’t let her get away,’ his wolf urged, its voice a low growl in the back of his mind.
“I won’t,” Rowan panted aloud, his eyes locked on the barely visible blur of fur flickering through the trees ahead.
The forest thickened as he climbed a shallow rise, roots tangling like fingers beneath the earth, threatening to trip him with every stride. Sunlight filtered through the branches above, casting shifting shadows along the ground, turning the chase into a surreal dance between light and dark.
He spotted her again—just beyond a patch of wild ferns, her lithe frame weaving between trunks with a speed that sent fresh urgency surging through his veins.
“Please,” he murmured, not sure if he was speaking to her or the Moon Goddess. “Don’t run from me.”
But she did. Her powerful limbs stretched as she bounded over a stream, not looking back, not hesitating. Rowan followed, his boots landing hard in the shallow water, sending a spray of droplets behind him as he surged after her.
Emotion swelled in his chest—raw, overwhelming, desperate. She was his. He knew it in the very marrow of his bones. And yet she fled from him like he was a threat.
‘She’s scared,’ his wolf reasoned. ‘She doesn’t know you. Not yet.’
Rowan pushed harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Every fiber of his being ached to reach her, to show her she had nothing to fear. That he was hers as much as she was his.
A flicker of silver appeared again ahead—she paused for a heartbeat, her golden eyes locking with his through the foliage. It was long enough for him to see the conflict there—recognition, uncertainty, longing. And then she was gone again, a whisper of motion disappearing into the trees.
Rowan pushed his legs to move faster, praying to the Moon Goddess to help him catch his mate before she disappears for good. He rushed around a large rock, allowing his wolf to take control in this hunt for his runaway mate.
Suddenly, a flash of movement ahead—a silver-gray wolf darting through the underbrush. Rowan surged forward, adrenaline fueling his pursuit. He closed the distance, then lunged, tackling the wolf to the ground.
The she-wolf snarled, twisting beneath him, her teeth snapping inches from his face. Rowan held her gently but firmly, careful not to hurt her.
“Easy,” he whispered. “I’m not here to harm you.” Her growls subsided slightly, her eyes—piercing and wild—locked onto his. “I’m Rowan,” he said softly. “Your mate.”
She stilled, her ears twitching. Rowan slowly released his grip, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’ve been searching for you,” he continued. “Since the battle. Your scent—it called to me.”
The she-wolf remained motionless, her gaze unwavering. Rowan took a cautious step back, giving her space. “I know this is sudden,” he said. “But I feel the bond between us. Don’t you?”
She tilted her head slightly, nostrils flaring as she scented the air. Then, a twig snapped in the distance. In a flash, she turned and bolted, disappearing into the forest.
“Wait!” Rowan called, chasing after her.
But his foot caught on something unseen, sending him sprawling to the ground. He groaned, pushing himself up to his knee, but it was too late, the she-wolf was gone.
‘She’s gone,’ his wolf lamented, his cry of pain filling Rowan’s mind and hurting his soul.
‘But we found her,’ Rowan replied. ‘We’ll find her again. As many times as it takes until she accepts that she is ours.’
He made his way back to the packhouse, frustration and hope warring within him. And yet… he smiled, breathless and aching. Because now he knew the truth.
She was real.
‘And she’s ours,’ his wolf growled.
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