Aprils POV
The forest was a living thing, whispering in a language I’d come to understand over the past month. The low hum of crickets, the rustle of leaves, and even the occasional snap of a twig beneath my boots all told me I was alone but never truly alone. It was both a comfort and a reminder of how exposed I was now. Rogue life was unforgiving; every shadow could be a threat, and every silence could be broken by a growl or a sudden attack. The only good thing about it was the freedom; it was better than being in a cage.
I pulled my jacket tighter around my body, the worn fabric doing little to block out the chill that seeped into my bones. It wasn’t just the cold I couldn’t shake-it was the emptiness, the void that Dylan’s absence left behind. I’d been on my own before, but this was different. This was after knowing what it felt like to have someone stay. It felt nice, I really missed him, and there are nights where I really wished I could have just asked him to join me instead of us parting ways, but then I remember why I did it, and that feeling and thought fades away,
“You’re thinking about him again,” Snow, my wolf, murmured. Her voice had the soft edge of concern, but there was a hint of impatience, too. She was always restless now, caged by the uncertainty that came with being a rogue.
“I can’t help it,” I whispered, stepping over a gnarled root and pausing to catch my breath. The forest floor was uneven, littered with fallen branches and stones that bit into the soles of my worn-out boots. “Everything’s different now.”
“You can’t keep looking back,” Snow replied. “We have to focus on what’s ahead. We have to find them.”
“It is hard, Snow; sometimes it just becomes too much,” I say honestly.
“I know, April. That’s why I am here-to be your strength,” Snow says, and it warms my heart.
Aaaaww… Snow had really been my rock this past month; she was tougher now. I had been heavily leaning on her strength, and I appreciated her for supporting me; it seemed like when she grieved while in the dungeons and healed because she rarely brought up anything from the past, it was like she erased or blocked that part, and the only thing she focuses on is finding our parents. I think that’s what drives her now.
Sometimes, I feel like I am letting her down by being haunted by our past. Still, her being the sweet wolf she is, she always reminds me that healing is a process and that it’s okay for me to go through and feel whatever feelings I am feeling.
Her support is everything to me; I love my wolf.
We had been searching for them all month.
Them. My parents. The names I’d clung to like a lifeline, the only link to a past I’d never known. I’d spent countless nights replaying the stories I’d pieced together from whispers and forgotten records, trying to make sense of everything. What kind of parents abandon their child?
I pushed that question aside, concentrating on the path ahead. The moon hung heavy and full above me, bathing the forest in a silvery glow that made it easier to navigate the twisting trails. I was grateful for its light. Traveling by day was a risk I couldn’t afford. There were too many wandering eyes and too many questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“Do you think we’re close?” I asked Snow, more to fill the silence than anything else.
“Closer than we were yesterday,” she said. There was a determination in her tone that I envied. She was a creature of instinct and strength; she didn’t get lost in doubts and memories the way I did.
I wish I believed her or had as much conviction and determination as her.
Why the fuck am I so pessimistic?
A sound broke the quiet and my train of thought-a faint rustle, too deliberate to be the wind. My body tensed, and I reached for the small knife I kept at my hip. The blade was dull, its edge chipped from too many encounters, but it was all I had.
“Stay sharp,” Snow warned, her presence bristling inside me.
I held my breath, listening. The forest fell silent, the kind of stillness that felt like a held breath before the storm. Seconds ticked by, stretching into what felt like minutes before a small, gray rabbit darted out from the underbrush and scurried away. The tension melted from my muscles, leaving behind the familiar ache of exhaustion.
“Paranoid much?” I muttered, earning a low huff from Snow.
“Better paranoid than dead,” she shot back.
She wasn’t wrong. Being a rogue meant being cautious, constantly scanning for threats, and always questioning the intentions of anyone you crossed paths with. Trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not now. Not when the only things I had were my name, two names scrawled on a weathered scrap of paper, and the thin hope that they’d lead me to answers.
I reached a clearing, the pale grass shimmering under the moon’s light, and I allowed myself a moment to rest. My legs ached, and my body yearned for the comfort of sleep, but safety came first. I set my back against a tree and glanced up at the sky, watching as the stars blinked like a silent chorus.
I loved looking at the sky; it gave me some peace to know that somewhere in the stars, my parents were shining bright and looking down upon me, watching me, and taking care of me.
“May we meet again someday beyond the stars, Mum and Dad,” I whisper to the sky, hoping the wind will carry my words to them.
“You’re stronger than you think,” Dylan’s voice echoed in my mind, an unbidden memory that brought a sharp sting to my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing the thought away.
“I have to be,” I whispered aloud, as much to myself as to Snow. The forest, indifferent to my struggles, kept its secrets as I closed my eyes for just a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a storm I’d learned to weather.