Chapter 8: Learning to stand

Training did not begin in violence.
Or shifting.
Or running.
It began with breathing.
Aeron led her to a clearing where frost glittered on the grass. Snow-capped pines surrounded them, tall and ancient, like silent guardians.
“Sit,” he said gently.
Alex sat.
Aeron sat across from her, legs folded, posture relaxed but unyielding — like a mountain in human form.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “Not to escape. To listen.”
Alex closed them.
At first — only her heartbeat. Too fast. Too loud.
Her breath trembled.
Aeron’s voice came soft:
“You’re safe.”
She tried to believe it.
But memories scraped like broken glass — the basement, the shouting, the blows, the loneliness—
Her breath hitched.
Aeron didn’t tell her to stop.
He waited.
And when her breathing broke — when her shoulders shook — he simply said:
“Good.”
Alex’s eyes flew open. “Good?! I’m failing—”
“No,” Aeron said, voice steady. “You’re feeling. That is strength.”
Tears slid down her face — silent, unstoppable.
Aeron leaned forward, slow, giving her time to withdraw if she needed.
She didn’t.
He wiped one tear — just one — with the back of his knuckle.
Gentle. Careful. Human.
“Your wolf is not gone,” he murmured. “She is waiting for you to give yourself permission to exist.”
Alex let out a sob — small, broken, but real.
Aeron didn’t hold her.
He let her break — because breaking was how she would rebuild.
“Again,” he whispered.
Alex closed her eyes — and breathed.
And this time, her wolf breathed with her.


The First Shift
Snow drifted slow and silent through the trees, glimmering like silver dust in the early dusk. The clearing glowed faintly — like the moon was already watching.
Alex stood barefoot in the frost.
Not shaking.
Not cowering.
Just breathing.
Aeron stood with her, close enough to feel, far enough to let her choose.
“The shift,” he said quietly, “is not about pain. Not for you. Not anymore.”
Alex’s heart beat slow and heavy — not fear. Not panic.
Something deeper.
“Close your eyes,” Aeron said.
She did.
“Listen. Not to your mind. Not to your memories.”
His voice softened to something reverent.
“Listen to your wolf.”
At first — silence.
Then…
I am here.
The voice inside her was warm and deep — not hidden anymore, not distant like a memory.
She felt fur like black silk brushing the inside of her ribs, a slow curl of power coiling at the base of her spine.
We are whole.
We are safe.
Let me rise.
Alex exhaled.
The world shifted.
Not violently.
Not burning.
Not breaking.
Bones softened — then reshaped like water flowing into a new vessel. Heat pulsed through her blood — warm as sunlight, not fire. Her vision widened — sharp, clear, wild.
Her feet sank into the frost.
Her hands touched earth.
Her wolf stepped forward.
Black as the new moon sky.
Silent.
Strong.
Eyes glowing silver.
Aeron didn’t move.
Didn’t look afraid.
Didn’t look shocked.
He lowered to one knee — head bowed — not in dominance, but recognition.
“Welcome,” he whispered, voice thick with awe.
“Blood Moon.”
Alex’s wolf lifted her head to the sky.
The moon broke through the clouds — full and bright — as though it had been waiting for her.
Light washed the clearing.
Her wolf howled.
Not a cry of pain.
Not a call for help.
A claim.
We are alive.
The sound echoed through the mountains, rolling like thunder made of stars.
Aeron looked up at her — and for the first time, Alex did not see fear or hatred in another wolf’s eyes.
She saw home.
We are not alone, her wolf whispered.
Alex’s heart answered:
Never again.


The first hunt
The wind cut clean and cold through the trees, carrying the scent of snow, pine sap, and life. Alex’s wolf paws pressed into the earth, steady and sure. Every muscle thrummed with energy — coiled, ready, alive.
The world was no longer distant or muted.
It was sharp.
Clear.
True.
She could smell every creature in the forest — deer, rabbit, fox, even the faint musk of a mountain cat far to the east. She could feel the pulse of the earth beneath her claws.
Aeron shifted beside her — a massive wolf of dark storm-gray fur. His presence no longer felt overwhelming. It felt like gravity — something steady to move with, not around.
He didn’t command her.
He invited her.
He dipped his head.
The signal.
Run.
Alex surged forward.
The forest exploded around her — branches whipping past, snow bursting beneath her paws, the air cutting cool and bright into her lungs.
She had never been fast before — she had been quiet, small, careful.
Now?
She was velocity.
Her wolf exulted in it, a joy that vibrated through every bone:
We are strong.
We are swift.
We were never prey.
And Aeron ran beside her, keeping pace — not leading, not overshadowing.
Matching her.
The earth opened into a wide clearing — and there, at the edge, a stag lifted its head.
Its breath steamed the air. Its muscles twitched, prepared to flee.
Alex didn’t think.
She moved.
Her wolf launched forward with perfect coordination — claws digging into the earth, eyes locked, heart steady. Not wild. Not frantic. Focused.
She gained.
The stag ran.
The snow thundered beneath them.
Aeron did not help.
He did not guide.
He watched.
The wolf inside her rose like fire meeting oxygen — ancient, confident, inevitable.
She leapt.
Her body met the stag’s with controlled force — not cruel, not clumsy. She brought it down swiftly, cleanly, honoring the life she took.
The forest hushed.
Her wolf stood over the fallen creature, chest heaving, breath hot in the cold air.
Not predator.
Hunter.
Aeron approached slowly, respectfully. He did not celebrate the kill — he acknowledged it.
He touched his muzzle to hers — Alpha to Alpha.
Her instincts recognized the gesture instantly:
Not dominance.
Not ownership.
Respect.
Bond.
Equal.
Alex’s wolf lowered her head — not submission, but something deeper:
Recognition.
Aeron’s voice echoed through the bond between wolves, deep and warm:
You are not what they taught you to be.
You are more.
So much more.
Alex shifted back first — gentle, warm, not painful — the moon still holding her.
She knelt in the snow, breath forming clouds.
Aeron shifted beside her — slow, deliberate — as if to say: you do not face the world alone now.
Alex looked at her hands — no longer trembling from fear.
But strength.
“Was that…” Her voice shook with disbelief. “Was that really me?”
Aeron crouched in front of her, eyes bright with quiet pride.
“That has always been you.”
Her heart stuttered.
Her wolf whispered:
We are waking.
And Alex believed it.