The Wild Returns Home

Serenya wasn’t sure if Cheyenne’s cabin had always had this many weapons hanging on the walls… or if she was just now noticing them. Axes, bows, daggers, something that looked suspiciously like a modified cattle prod—all arranged like a psychotic P*******t board of violence.

“Okay,” Cheyenne said, dragging a heavy duffel onto the floor between them with a thunk. “Welcome to Day One of Are You a Guardian or Just a Glorified Saddle Club Member?”

Serenya arched a brow. “You think I’m here for a trophy?”

“No,” Cheyenne said, opening the bag with a grin. “But I do think it’s time to find out if that horse of yours can gallop into hell without breaking a nail.”

From the corner of her mind, Koa gave a low chuff that somehow sounded like approval.

Cheyenne tossed a dull training blade into Serenya’s hands with a smirk. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Mustang Barbie.”

Serenya blinked. “Okay, I’ll give you mustang... but Barbie?” She snorted. “I am so far from plastic and perky, it’s laughable.”

Cheyenne grinned wickedly. “Fine. Limited edition Saddle-Up Sass Queen it is.”

Serenya twirled the blade. “Now that I’ll accept.”

 “Try not to break her,” Koa warned, lounging like a smug, white-furred overlord.

“She started it,” Cheyenne thought back, rolling her eyes.

Without another word, she lunged.

Serenya blocked, the metallic clang of their blades echoing through the room. For a few moments, there was no talking, only the sound of footfalls, scraping steel, and the occasional grunt of effort. Serenya was fast—faster than Cheyenne expected. Focused. Precise. But she was still holding back.

“You’re not fighting like someone who watched her family bleed,” Cheyenne said, swiping for her side.

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” Serenya snapped, ducking and pivoting into a strike of her own.

Cheyenne deflected it easily, spinning them around with a grunt. “Oh, sweetie, this isn’t about proving anything to me. This is about proving it to yourself.”

Serenya’s eyes flashed. “I already did that when I left everything behind.”

Cheyenne dropped her stance and stepped back. “Then fight like it.”

There was a moment of silence. Serenya’s jaw clenched. Then she exhaled, reset her grip, and attacked like she meant it. No hesitation. No fear. Just fire.

When they finally broke apart again, both panting and covered in a sheen of sweat, Cheyenne nodded.

“Alright,” she said, tossing her blade to the couch. “You pass the ‘not a delicate flower’ portion of today’s test.”

“Is that a real test?”

“It is now. I’m winging this.”

Serenya smirked and swiped sweat from her brow.

“Next,” Cheyenne said, pulling out a remote and pressing a button.

The walls shifted. Panels slid aside to reveal dummies with wooden spikes for limbs, sandbags hung from the ceiling, and something that looked like it belonged on an American Ninja Warrior death course.

“You built a secret training course into your cabin?”

Cheyenne grinned. “Babe, you think a queen just sits on her ass and eats grapes? This is how I eat grapes—by kicking ass.”

Serenya stepped cautiously into the center. “And this is all for… what, exactly?”

“To test your endurance, instincts, and decision-making under pressure.”

The dummies began to move.

Cheyenne stepped back, folding her arms. “Also… bonus points if you manage not to die.”

Serenya’s breath caught, then she launched into motion, dancing between the sandbags and ducking swinging arms, her eyes scanning for the next threat.

“She’s good,” Koa murmured in Cheyenne’s mind.

“She’s more than good. She’s already a damn Guardian. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

An hour later, Cheyenne led a dripping, winded Serenya out into the clearing behind the cabin.

“You said physical and mental tests,” Serenya said, bending over with her hands on her knees. “Was that all physical?”

Cheyenne winked. “That was foreplay.”

“I hate you.”

“You’ll love me later.”

 “Now,” Cheyenne said, wiping her face with a towel and tossing Serenya a second one, “we let the girls have their fun.”

Out in the open space, Cheyenne shifted, and there Koa stood waiting, tail swishing gently. The sun dappled through the trees, casting warm light over her fur, making her look even more ethereal—like a ghost born from stardust.

Serenya took the hint. She inhaled deeply, let the pull take over, and shifted.

Solana exploded into being in a shimmer of light and golden energy. Her buckskin coat gleamed in the sun, her mane trailing like dark silk. She pawed the ground and tossed her head, then turned toward Koa with laser focus.

Koa padded forward, head held high. The two circled each other once—no aggression, just assessment. A flick of a tail. A snort. Then Koa took off through the trees like a silver bullet.

Solana didn’t hesitate. She followed.

They ran deep in the woods, a wolf and a horse, tearing through the underbrush, leaving fire and moonlight in their wake.

Solana had no issues keeping up with Koa. They ran together like they had been doing it their entire lives.

Koa brought them back to the clearing behind the cabin and shifted back into Cheyenne and Solana did the same with Serenya.

Cheyenne and Serenya sat on a log together in silence for a bit.

It was Cheyenne who broke the quiet first. “Okay, time for the real test.”

Serenya tensed. “What now?”

Cheyenne leaned in conspiratorially. “Disney.”

Serenya blinked. “What?”

“You don’t know what it is, do you?”

“I—no? Is that a kind of spell?”

Cheyenne recoiled like she’d just been slapped. “Oh my goddess. You poor sheltered cinnamon roll.”

“I am not a—what did you call me?”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, sit down and prepare your soul. Because I am about to educate you in the fine cinematic masterpieces that are Tangled, Moana, and Mulan.”

“Why do they all sound like weird warrior names?”

Cheyenne’s eyes gleamed. “Oh honey. You’re gunna love Mulan. Spoiler alert: she saves China with a cricket, a dragon, and the power of badassery. Honestly? Mood.”

Serenya slowly smiled. “Alright. I’m listening.”

They talked. They laughed.

After their final round of sparring and more back-and-forth banter that could’ve fueled a sitcom, Cheyenne called it. Serenya was sweating, flushed, and—though she’d never admit it—having the time of her life.

That night, Cheyenne introduced her to a sacred tradition: girls' movie night.

Serenya sat cross-legged on a pile of mismatched blankets on the cabin floor, suspiciously eyeing the glowing screen as dramatic music played in the background.

“And what’s this called again?” she asked, munching on a handful of popcorn that Cheyenne had coated in something called ranch dust.

“Mulan,” Cheyenne replied reverently, her face aglow with admiration. “A cinematic masterpiece about a woman who saves all of China with brains, courage, and a literal hair bun. Total badass. Prepare to be spiritually awakened.”

Serenya raised an eyebrow. “So... this is like... tribal storytelling?”

Cheyenne gasped. “Excuse you, but this is ancient Disney prophecy. Watch and learn, young padawan.”

“Mmm. You sure this Mulan isn’t one of your guardian sisters?”

Cheyenne didn’t even blink. “She would’ve been if she hadn’t beat us all to it by centuries. Honor to her cow.”

“Don’t you mean ‘honor to her family and her cow’?” Serenya asked, quoting the tiny dragon on screen with confusion.

Cheyenne just grinned. “You are learning.”

By the time the credits rolled, Serenya was drowsy, her head resting against a throw pillow, eyes half-lidded.

“You good?” Cheyenne asked quietly.

Serenya nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t know I needed this. Thank you.”

Cheyenne smiled, brushing it off with a casual shrug. “That’s what sisters are for. Now go pass out before I make us watch Hercules next.”

As Serenya disappeared into the guest room with a yawn, Cheyenne grabbed her phone, curled up on the couch, and opened her group text.

Queen Alpha👑🐺:

🌙 Hey witches and weirdos. Field tomorrow at noon. Bring your weapons, good vibes, and don’t be late. 💥

Isolde 🦇:

Define “weirdos.”

Queen Alpha👑🐺:

You, obviously.

Nalia 🔥🕊️:

What’s going on?

Queen Alpha👑🐺:

Surprise. Don’t make me come drag your glowing asses out of bed.

Tora 🐉:

Ugh. If this is another “let’s push our limits” day, I swear to the Moon Goddess—

Queen Alpha👑🐺:

Chill, Dragon Spice. You’ll like this one.

Chelsea 🌪️🌿:

Ohhh this feels juicy. I’m bringing snacks.

Isolde 🦇:

I’m bringing stakes.

Queen Alpha👑🐺:

You always do. Now go to sleep, bloodsucker.

With a chuckle, Cheyenne walked to her bedroom, tossed her phone onto the nightstand, and looked out the window. The moon hung high and full, bathing the trees in silver.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

The next day, at precisely twelve o’clock noon, a familiar circle of badassery began to form in the grassy expanse of the field Grammy had once sealed for Tora’s training.

Cheyenne stood at the center with her arms crossed and a smug little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looked way too pleased with herself.

“I swear, Chey,” Tora muttered as she stepped onto the field with a bottle of lemon water in one hand and sunglasses perched on her head, “if this is another one of your ‘character-building’ surprise attacks, I will breathe fire on your boots.”

“I second that,” Isolde said, twirling one of her daggers in lazy circles. “It’s too early for trauma bonding. Again.”

“I brought cookies!” Chelsea announced with a chipper bounce as she handed Tora a small cooler. “And don’t worry, they’re not protein-packed this time.”

Tora exhaled in visible relief. “Bless the goddess. My digestive tract thanks you.”

“Alright, spill it,” Nalia said, folding her arms as she stepped up beside Cheyenne. “We’re all here. And I left a smoldering Tyler in bed for this. So this better be good.”

“Oh, it is,” Cheyenne said, grinning as she turned toward the edge of the tree line. “Ladies… meet our mystery mare.”

From the shadows beyond the clearing, a soft breeze stirred the leaves—then a shimmer of golden movement appeared between the trees.

Solana stepped into view, her coat a striking buckskin gold with black legs and a thick, silken black mane that rippled like ink in the sunlight. Her ears twitched as she trotted forward, every muscle in her sleek frame coiled with raw grace.

The girls collectively froze.

“Ohhhh,” Chelsea breathed. “I thought you were kidding.”

“Hot damn,” Tora whispered. “You brought a damn horse.”

“No,” Cheyenne corrected, lifting her chin proudly, “I brought a Guardian.”

Solana came to a stop in the center of the field, regal and calm, and locked eyes with each of the women before turning to face Cheyenne.

“Solana,” Cheyenne said, “meet the rest of the disaster squad.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Nalia murmured, genuinely awed.

“Wait,” Isolde said, squinting. “Why does she feel like… something more?”

“Because she is,” Cheyenne said, stepping up beside Solana and placing a hand on her flank. “This is Solana, the spirit. But the girl inside is Serenya. And she’s here because she followed a dream, a pull, and probably one too many wind currents across half the planet.”

The horse snorted softly, and Chelsea gasped. “She understands us?”

“She does,” Cheyenne nodded. “She just doesn’t speak in horse form.”

As if on cue, Solana shimmered with golden light—and in her place stood Serenya, tall and powerful, her dark hair braided down her back, her piercing blue eyes scanning the group. She stood barefoot, her tanned skin kissed by sun and dust, the energy around her pulsing like heat from summer stone.

“Whoa,” Tora said. “Okay, okay… I get the hype now.”

“Nice to meet you,” Serenya said carefully. “You must be the other Guardians.”

“And you’re the elusive equine,” Isolde said, raising a brow. “Welcome to the circus.”

“Thanks,” Serenya said with a cautious smile. “And… for the record, I’m a mustang.”

Cheyenne snorted. “Limited Edition Saddle-Up Sass Queen, reporting for duty.”

Serenya rolled her eyes. “Still not a Barbie.”

The girls burst out laughing, and Chelsea clapped her hands. “Oh, she’s perfect.”

“So,” Nalia said, stepping forward, her tone shifting to something warmer. “You felt the pull too?”

Serenya nodded. “Since I was fifteen. It’s been… a long road. I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw her.” She motioned toward Cheyenne. “And the white wolf in my dream.”

“That’d be me,” Koa said through Cheyenne’s mind with a smug mental wag of her tail.

Cheyenne smirked. “She says ‘you’re welcome.’”

Serenya tilted her head. “Wait—your wolf… talks to you?”

“Not out loud,” Cheyenne shrugged. “Just in here.” She tapped her temple. “Mostly sarcasm and unsolicited advice.”

“Sounds familiar,” Solana nudged gently in her mind.

The other girls all shared a look—and then stepped in.

One by one, they introduced themselves properly, adding their own quips and colorful insults along the way. Serenya took it all in stride, her expression gradually softening into something more relaxed.

“So…” Cheyenne said, once the circle of introductions wrapped up, “wanna find out what this baby horse can really do?”

Serenya lifted her chin. “Bring it.”

“Oh gods,” Tora groaned. “Why do I feel like we’re about to break Grammy’s wards again?”

Chelsea popped a cookie into her mouth and grinned. “Because we probably are.”

The field shimmered with residual energy as Serenya panted softly, sweat dripping down her temple. Cheyenne had pushed her, mentally and physically. Koa had tested Solana's reflexes in a dizzying display of elemental strategy. And every one of the Guardians had thrown something different at her: fire, shadow, wind, lightning, mind games, and even an impromptu three-on-one obstacle course with Tora's flaming wings keeping things interesting.

Now, Serenya stood in the center of the warded field, chest rising and falling, Solana’s presence strong and calm in the back of her mind.

Cheyenne finally raised a hand. “Alright. Verdict?”

Tora wiped soot from her cheek and smirked. “She didn’t cry when I scorched the ground beneath her feet, so… I vote yes.”

“I like her,” Isolde said, flipping a dagger into the air and catching it. “She didn’t flinch when I went all ‘Queen of the Night’ either.”

“She didn’t fall on her ass when I hit her with lightning,” Nalia added. “Always a plus.”

“She also didn’t insult my cookies,” Chelsea grinned. “Clearly worthy.”

Cheyenne gave Serenya a satisfied nod. “You passed, Mustang Barbie.”

“I still hate that nickname,” Serenya muttered, brushing hair out of her face.

“And I live for your hatred,” Cheyenne said sweetly.

With a low rumble, the field shifted. The air thickened with warmth and power as something ancient stirred below their feet. A soft glow rose from the circle beneath Serenya’s feet, the seal beneath them beginning to hum with life.

And one by one, the Guardian Spirits appeared.

First came NaKoa, coming from Cheyenne in a swirl of white mist and starlight. Her sleek, ghost-white fur glowed faintly with green tribal runes, eyes a vibrant emerald flame. She stood tall and regal.

“I am NaKoa,” she said in a voice that echoed across worlds. “Guardian of the Hunt, bound to Spirit.”

Then Eirava and Zethra emerged in Isolde. Two shadows peeled themselves from her aura—one bathed in the deep crimson of blood and the other in icy bone-white. Together they stood like mirrored death and life, ancient and terrifying.

“We are Eirava and Zethra,” they spoke in unison, “Guardians of Blood and Bone, bound to Shadow.”

A rumble of thunder followed as Athena appeared in Chelsea, her body woven from vines, stone, and crackling arcs of lightning. Her hair flowed like wild branches, eyes glowing like twin storms.

“I am Athena,” she said, her voice low but commanding. “Guardian of Balance, bound to Storm and Earth.”

Then came Margaret, the dragon spirit cloaked in dark scales and golden eyes, curling protectively around Tora’s flame. Her voice carried the weight of mountains and the heat of fire-forged steel.

“I am Margaret,” she said, voice rolling like dragon’s breath. “Guardian of Flame’s Scale, bound to Sky and Strength.”

Finally, Saelari stepped in Nalia, the purest flame in humanoid form. Her skin shimmered with gold and firelight, and every breath she took seemed to echo with the crackling of creation itself.

“I am Saelari,” she said gently, “Flame of the First Dawn, bound to the heart of fire.”

Each Guardian Spirit bowed their head toward Serenya—acknowledging her.

And then the wind shifted.

Solana stirred.

Serenya staggered slightly as golden energy began pulsing through her body, radiant and wild. Her back arched. Her hands glowed. A golden light, rich like sunlight at dusk, encased her form. She dropped to one knee.

A voice—her voice—rang out from the depths of her soul.

“For too long, I have remained silent,” Solana whispered, her voice soft but growing in power. “I have watched and waited… but now, I remember who I am.”

The Guardians stepped back as Serenya lifted her head, golden eyes glowing. Solana’s essence merged with her, wrapped in the sunlight and shadows of dawn and dusk.

Her aura pulsed outward like a heartbeat.

“I am Solana,” she said clearly now, for the first time. “Guardian of the Wild Veil, bound to Dawn and Dusk. I am balance. I am the first wind across the plains. The voice of the untamed. The calm before the stampede… and the fury after the silence.”

A hush fell over the entire field.

Even Koa blinked inside Cheyenne’s mind. Okay, well damn. Dramatic much?

“She’s one of us,” Nalia whispered, wide-eyed. “Truly.”

“The Guardian of the Wild Veil…” Tora said reverently. “Like the stories.”

Cheyenne exhaled and smirked. “Called it.”

Serenya finally rose to her feet. Her presence—her power—radiated through the space, weaving into the magic of the seal around them. She felt complete. And so did Solana.

Chelsea wiped a tear from her cheek. “Do we hug her now? I feel like this is a hug moment.”

Serenya blinked. “I’ve only ever been hugged by horses.”

“Girl,” Cheyenne said, already pulling her into an embrace, “welcome to the pack. Get used to this crap.”

One by one, the Guardians surrounded their newest sister—arms linked, energy shared, hearts wide open.

The Wild had returned home.