The Moonfang den wasn't built for someone like Lyra.
She moved through it like a leaf blown into a den of wolves—too soft, too warm, too unfamiliar. The stone tunnels echoed with growls and howls from distant chambers. The air carried scents of blood, musk, and raw earth. Yet somehow, she was still there. Breathing. Moving. Watching.
Lykos hadn't sent her away.
Not yet.
---
"Don't touch the crystal roots," he warned that morning as
he handed her a woven basket. "They're laced with arcvine poison. I need you to gather silksedge flowers near the riverbend instead."
Lyra blinked. "You're… trusting me to help gather?"
Lykos's eyes narrowed, unreadable. "You're good with plants. That doesn't mean I trust you."
Still, he handed her a dagger—bone-handled, small but sharp. "For defense."
She nodded, grateful. "I'll be careful."
His growl was low. "Don't be careful. Be invisible."
---
🌾 The Riverbend
The riverbend was breathtaking.
Lyra stepped out of the dense woods into a clearing
surrounded by silver reeds and drooping starflowers. Mist rose off the water's surface like enchanted steam, curling through the sunlight like smoke.
She knelt, fingers brushing the velvety silksedge flowers.
Their petals shimmered faintly blue.
> 🌿 [Eden Core: Scan
complete.
Silksedge – Used for soothing pain in beast cubs and suppressing primal instincts.
Low toxicity to humans.]
She smiled.
As she clipped each bloom, she quietly activated her Inner
Space. No flash. No noise. Just the subtle shift of air, a tingling on her palm. A fresh plot had opened beside the celestial pond. She planted two silksedge flowers immediately, heart fluttering with quiet excitement.
Her secret garden was growing.
She was no longer just surviving—she was cultivating.
---
A low snarl jerked her upright.
Her fingers froze over the basket.
From the trees beyond the clearing, a large black-furred
wolf crept into view. Its eyes were blood-orange, its teeth glinting with saliva.
Not one of Lykos's pack.
> ⚠️ Unidentified Beast.
Class: Rogue.
Threat Level: Medium-High.
Lyra took a step back. Then another.
The wolf snarled louder, hackles rising. It crouched—ready
to pounce.
She fumbled for her dagger.
> Too slow.
A silver blur crashed through the underbrush, smashing into the rogue like a meteor.
Lykos.
Fur bristling, fangs bared, the Moon Wolf Alpha slammed the intruder into a tree. Bark exploded. Blood splattered.
Lyra watched, stunned, as Lykos shifted mid-motion—one
second beast, the next a pale-skinned warrior crouched on the rogue's chest, his arm pressed to its throat.
"You picked the wrong scent to follow," he growled.
The rogue whimpered and vanished into smoke, retreating into the shadows.
Lykos stood, blood on his cheek, eyes glowing.
Lyra's knees nearly gave out.
"You followed me?" she whispered.
"I never let you go alone," he said coldly. "Don't mistake
freedom for safety."
She bit her lip. "I… I could've handled it."
His gaze was sharp. "Don't lie to yourself."
But his voice had lost its bite.
He turned, wiping blood from his hands, and added quietly,
"But you didn't scream."
Lyra blinked. "What?"
"You didn't panic. You stood your ground."
She swallowed. "I was… terrified."
He stepped closer. "Good. Fear keeps you alive."
And then, softer than she expected, he added, "Next time,
call my name."
---
🐺 A Soft Stirring
That night, Lyra couldn't sleep.
The den's central chamber pulsed with warmth. The
Moonfangs—wolf beastmen of all ages—curled around the fire like a family of stars. Some snored. Others groomed or laughed in low rumbles.
But Lyra sat curled by herself, watching the firelight play
across her fingers.
She thought of Lykos's hands—bloodied, clawed, and yet
capable of steadying her when she trembled.
> He's dangerous, she reminded herself.
He doesn't trust you. He might never trust you.
And yet, when he looked at her…
When he spoke in that low voice only she seemed to hear…
It felt like something inside her—long buried—was waking up.
Not just desire. Not lust.
But longing.
For someone to see her not as prey… but as precious.
---
🌱 A Mooncub's Trust
The next morning, she heard a familiar whimper near the
mouth of the den.
Peeking out, she found the little Mooncub she had helped two days earlier—its leg still healing, eyes bright with recognition.
It had followed her back.
"Oh no," Lyra whispered. "You're not supposed to be here."
She knelt quickly, pulling the cub into her cloak and
ducking back inside.
> 🌿 [Eden Core: Companion
detected. Beast youth. Passive imprint forming.]
She fed it a slice of dried root cake, which it devoured
with happy chirps, tail wagging.
Later, she snuck it into her Inner Space, letting it drink
from the celestial pond.
It purred. And curled against her lap, sleeping.
And Lyra—smiling faintly—whispered, "You're the first one
who came to me without fear."
---
⚠️ Storm Approaching
That evening, Lykos returned late—covered in soot and ash.
His expression was grim.
"The Fire Plains are stirring," he said as he tossed a
broken spear across the floor. "Their warriors crossed the border today. Looking for someone."
Lyra stiffened. "Someone?"
He didn't look at her.
But his next words chilled her to the core:
"They said… a soft-skinned female had poisoned a sacred
glade. That a 'foreign bloom' had started to grow near the river."
Her blood ran cold.
"I'm not—" she started, panicking.
But Lykos raised a hand.
"I didn't tell them I'd seen anything. Not yet."
Lyra's voice trembled. "Why not?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he turned to her—eyes shadowed with something
unreadable.
"…Because I don't want them to find you."
Her breath caught.
"Even if I should."
---
End of Chapter Four