The Queen’s Land

The wind shifted the moment Solana crossed the invisible threshold between one world and the next.

It was more than a border. It was a tether snapping taut in her chest. Something ancient stirred in her bones, and Serenya pressed forward in shared recognition.

They were here.

She galloped across the soft forest floor, hooves hammering in rhythm with her heart, mane streaming behind her like a banner. The scent of pine and fresh water thickened as she followed the trail toward a lake nestled in the heart of Blood Moon territory. The pull in her chest became magnetic.

And then—the howls.

Long, loud, and bone-deep. They rose from the woods like a chorus of ancestral ghosts. Solana didn’t slow. She couldn’t. The call wasn’t just in her ears—it was in her soul.

This is it, Solana nudged at their thoughts. We’ve found them.

The trees thinned ahead, opening to a beach of smooth river stones and golden sand glinting in the afternoon sun. A lake sprawled out before her, endless and silver-blue beneath the sky. Wind whipped past her ears and tangled in her mane, carrying with it the scent of wolves—many, powerful, and suddenly on the move.

Something was running parallel to her. Then somethings.

Solana didn’t turn to look. She didn’t have to. She could hear the paws on earth. The heavy breathing. The low, purposeful growls carried on the breeze. Her skin prickled. They were flanking her.

We are not prey, Solana grumbled, irritated more than threatened.

“No,” Serenya agreed silently. “But we are trespassing.”

Then it happened.

A massive gray wolf lunged from the treeline, landing directly in her path with a thundering growl. His hackles were raised, body crouched low, eyes narrowed. He was all dominance and teeth and fury.

Solana slammed her rear hooves into the ground, skidding in the sand with an ear-splitting snort. Dust and rocks exploded beneath her as she came to a full stop, inches from collision.

And then, oddly, the wolf's demeanor shifted. He raised his head. His nose twitched.

He recognizes something, Solana murmured.

Another growl started in the trees, lower and more anxious. Then the rustling. Feet. Multiple feet. And then figures burst from the woods, clothed and unclothed alike. One of them—a tall guy with messy black curls—held a pair of shorts in his hand like it was some kind of peace offering.

“Damn, you were fast,” the guy wheezed. “Try not to scare the new arrivals into heart attacks next time.”

The gray wolf glanced back at him with a look that screamed seriously? before shifting in a swirl of silver light. Now a man, tall, muscular, shirtless, and vaguely annoyed, he stepped forward and tugged the shorts on.

“Shift,” he said plainly to Solana. “We don’t let strangers wander the Queen’s territory without questioning. You’re lucky you made it this far.”

Solana snorted. Loudly.

Then she lowered her haunches to the sand and just sat her buckskin ass down like a stubborn housecat with hooves. Her ears flicked back in theatrical defiance.

Two of the guys burst out laughing.

“Holy hell,” one chuckled, “She just told you nope with her whole body language.”

“She’s got attitude. I like her.”

“Same.”

The main guy folded his arms. “Real funny.”

But before he could argue further, a sound split the forest in two.

A howl.

Not just any howl. This one was ancient. Powerful. It felt like moonlight and fire and forgotten songs. It sent chills dancing down the spines of every wolf present.

Heads snapped toward the woods.

And then—she emerged.

Koa. The White Wolf.

Her coat shimmered like moonlight on fresh snow, with piercing green eyes that seemed to glow as she stepped into the clearing with regal calm. Every wolf present dipped their heads automatically.

Solana rose. Solana stood in one seamless, reverent motion. The horse lowered her head, bent one knee, and bowed deeply.

The Queen had arrived.

Koa walked forward, her eyes locked on the buckskin mare, studying her as though reading her soul.

In that moment, everything stopped. The beach, the wind, the laughing boys, even the guy with his arms crossed—all faded into a reverent stillness.

Koa stepped forward slowly, her massive white paws silent on the sand, though the weight of her presence made the world itself seem to still.

So, you are the one who’s been searching…

The words weren’t spoken aloud, but Solana heard them clear as day—like a whisper inside her mind, one that echoed straight through Solana’s soul.

Koa tilted her head. Who are you, young one? Are you the traveler the packs have spoken of? The one who’s left hoofprints across three continents searching for a whisper of something lost?

Solana gave a short exhale—half snort, half breath—as if to say yes.

But no words came.

Koa’s eyes narrowed slightly, not with suspicion, but with curiosity. Why doesn’t she speak?

A ripple of realization passed through her powerful form. She looked beyond the physical, into the soul wrapped within.

Ah… Her green eyes softened. She hasn’t awakened fully yet. The voice comes later. That explains the silence. But not the stubborn attitude.

She chuckled under her breath, and the sound, though lupine, was filled with deep amusement.

Very well. Shift for me, she said gently. Let me see the girl who carries this spirit.

Solana stood with dignity and gave a slight nod before the golden light of the shift overtook her. Dust and sunfire swirled in a circle, rising in a warm spiral around her as her form changed.

And then, standing barefoot in the sand, was Serenya.

Wind-kissed, sun-tanned, and glowing in the late afternoon light.

She wore a woven leather halter over her back and a turquoise-beaded belt that hung loosely around her hips. Her long, dark hair whipped around her shoulders like a storm, and her bright blue eyes—startling even in the sunlight—locked onto the white wolf with unflinching certainty.

And yet, for all her warrior presence, she looked… relieved. Like a piece of her had finally landed where it belonged.

Koa stared at her for another breath, and then she too shimmered with power. The white wolf melted into a radiant column of moonlight, leaving Cheyenne standing in her place, dressed in joggers, a faded T-shirt that said I Bite When Provoked, and a cocked eyebrow that screamed welcome to the weird zone, sweetheart.

“Well,” Cheyenne said, folding her arms. “You’re not what I expected.”

Serenya raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Cheyenne smirked. “You should. Most people show up here with baggage, bad haircuts, and a lack of self-awareness. You showed up with hooves, attitude, and a spirit that bows. Impressive.”

The first guy finally relaxed beside her, though he still looked between the two women like he wasn’t entirely sure if he should step in or offer snacks.

“So,” Cheyenne said, tilting her head. “Let’s get this sorted. You the one that’s been galloping around the world like a wild mare on a mission?”

Serenya nodded. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Any particular reason?” Cheyenne asked, even though her voice had lost its sarcasm. There was something more serious under it now. More… knowing.

“I had a dream,” Serenya said softly. “Years ago. A white wolf. A burning sky. A crown made of thorns and stars. Five pillars of light. And a voice that told me I had to find the others.”

Cheyenne’s arms dropped to her sides.

“I’ve been following a pull in my chest ever since. Solana—my horse—woke that night. And I knew… I knew I wasn’t meant to stay hidden anymore.”

“Solana,” Cheyenne repeated, her tone shifting with reverence. “Of course. The spirit of the Plains. The untamed flame of the first herd. You’re one of us.”

The guys all blinked. “Wait, one of you?”

Cheyenne didn’t look at him. She just kept her gaze locked on Serenya.

“There are five,” she said. “Each bound to something ancient. Spirit. Fire. Balance. Shadow. Sky. And now…”

“Freedom,” Serenya finished, voice sure and soft.

Cheyenne exhaled. “You got here just in time, then.”

Serenya tilted her head. “Time for what?”

Cheyenne gave her a smile that held every ounce of joy, exhaustion, and warning that came from being the one who’d walked through hell first.

“To figure out what the hell happens next.”

Cheyenne glanced toward the forest path that led back to the cabins, then back to Serenya. “Walk with me,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

Serenya nodded, falling into step beside her as the first guy who stopped her, ever the quiet shadow, peeled off to inform the others. The two women walked side by side along the pine-dappled trail, boots and bare feet alike sinking softly into the needle-laced ground.

The silence was comfortable, if not a little weighty. The air was filled with the loamy scent of moss and earth, birds flitting overhead, the occasional howl still echoing in the distance—like the pack was still adjusting to the new arrival. Serenya didn’t flinch. If anything, she looked calmer the farther in she walked.

“So…” Cheyenne started, sliding her hands into the pockets of her joggers. “You're not big on small talk, huh?”

“I prefer truths over filler,” Serenya said, shrugging one shoulder.

Cheyenne gave a low hum. “Goddess, you’re gunna fit right in.”

Inside her mind, Koa stirred—her voice sliding in like velvet dipped in wisdom and mischief.

She’s grounded, Chey. Unshaken by presence. Unbothered by power. She doesn't yield easily… but she will when it matters. I like her.

Cheyenne bit the inside of her cheek to hide a grin. You also liked the guy who tried to sell us knockoff moonstones in Prague.

That was different. He had good snacks.

Cheyenne coughed into her fist to cover a laugh.

Serenya glanced over. “Did I miss something?”

“Not unless you can hear my wolf whispering smartass comments in my head,” Cheyenne said with a smirk.

“I hear mine,” Serenya said simply. “Even though she doesn’t speak. Yet.”

They reached the cabin—Cheyenne’s sanctuary. A modest but sturdy two-story lodge with dark cedar siding and large wraparound porch. Wind chimes whispered in the breeze, and a pair of old boots sat on the steps, right next to a well-worn axe.

Cheyenne pushed open the front door and gestured for Serenya to enter first. “Home sweet chaos.”

Inside, the place was warm and homey. The scent of sage and cedar clung to the walls, and family photos covered the mantle—some old, some recent. In the corner, a basket overflowed with squeaky toys. From the kitchen, the smell of baked bread lingered faintly.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Cheyenne said, tossing her keys onto the counter and grabbing a couple bottles of water from the fridge.

Serenya stepped inside cautiously, like she was afraid to break something. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the couch, the carved frame of a photo, the fur throw tossed lazily over the arm.

“You have… a life here,” Serenya said quietly. “A real one.”

Cheyenne passed her a water bottle. “Took me long enough to believe I deserved one.”

Their eyes met again—different colors, different histories, but the same flicker of something ancient beneath.

Cheyenne sat on the arm of the couch. “Alright. Spill. You said you’ve been following a pull, you had a vision, your spirit woke up. That’s heavy shit. But there’s more. What are you not telling me?”

Serenya hesitated. Not out of fear, but calculation.

“A few nights before my spirit awoke,” she said slowly, “my people were attacked. Something… monstrous came through our lands. Creatures that didn't bleed right. Didn't move like they should have. They were cold and wrong. We lost more than half our tribe.”

Cheyenne’s expression sobered.

“I tried to fight,” Serenya added. “I was only fifteen. But I ran straight into battle. I couldn’t let them die.”

She bears guilt, Koa whispered. The kind that drives someone to keep running… even when they’re bleeding.

Cheyenne leaned forward. “I get it.”

Serenya looked up, surprised. “Do you?”

Cheyenne nodded. “I’ve walked through fire. Faced things no one should. I’ve loved, lost, killed, risen. So yeah, I get what it’s like to have the weight of the world shoved on your shoulders without your permission.”

They were quiet for a beat.

Then Serenya said, “Solana won’t let me settle. She refuses anyone but a fated mate. She pushes me forward. And she’s the reason I found you.”

“Well,” Cheyenne said, leaning back, “then I owe your stubborn golden horse a thank-you card and probably a few apples.”

A soft laugh escaped Serenya.

“And look,” Cheyenne continued, voice dipping into that no-nonsense, battle-tested warmth she wore like armor. “You’re here now. That means something. And not just to the Guardians or spirits. It means something to me. Because I know what it’s like to be pulled into a war you didn’t ask for, only to realize you were built for it all along.”

Serenya exhaled slowly. The tension in her shoulders began to loosen. Her feet were still dirty from the run, her heart still a little guarded… but something clicked into place.

“So… what happens now?” she asked.

Cheyenne’s grin returned, slow and wolfish.

“Now?” she said. “Now we wake the others. And we teach you how to run with the pack.”