(Adrian POV)

The camp woke like a forest breathing - quiet, then alive all at once.

Smoke curled from small fires. Children darted between tents, laughing over strips of dried meat. Warriors flexed shoulders, tested blades, tasted the wind. I watched it all from the edge of the clearing, my arms crossed, my mind somewhere else entirely.

On her.

Lily sat near the outer ring of the camp, her hands tucked into the collar of her borrowed cloak, watching the pack move around her like a river that didn't know how to part. Every step she took drew eyes. Some curious. Some cold. Some hungry in ways that made my jaw tighten.

I knew what they saw when they looked at her: vulnerability. A soft place for wolves to test their teeth.

But I saw something else.

I saw the way her spine straightened when someone stared too long. The way her chin lifted when whispers followed her. The quiet defiance in the set of her shoulders told me she'd survived worse than their judgment.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard my voice again: "Then she's mine."

The words had slipped out before I could stop them. A claim. A vow. Witnessed by the forest and every wolf within earshot.

And now the pack knew.

Heat still climbed my throat when I thought about it - not embarrassment, but something knotted and fierce. Something that felt like relief and danger braided together.

***

A young girl with freckles and tightly braided hair skidded to a stop beside Lily, dropping a pile of kindling at her feet.

"Ina says, can ya help?" the girl announced, then bolted before Lily could answer yes or no.

Lily stood, gathered the kindling, and forced herself to move. She held her chin high. She didn't try to make herself smaller. Her long brown hair fell across her shoulder in a messy braid, dirt still streaked her cheeks, but her eyes were sharp and alert.

She was learning... adapting.

I found myself watching the way she walked - the slight hesitation before each step, like she was measuring the ground for traps. It reminded me of the way I'd learned to move after the curse took root. Always waiting for the world to bite back.

She found Ina crouched by a low fire, boiling resin in a blackened pot. The older woman's pale eyes flicked up, assessing Lily in that way healers do - seeing past skin to the bones beneath.

"You have steady fingers," Ina said without preamble. "Sit. Strip the bark but not too deep."

Lily obeyed, grateful for the work. Three pups slept in a bundle behind Ina, one with a bandaged leg. I watched Lily's chest relax at the sight of them, and something in mine did too.

"I don't need you to keep me busy," Lily said quietly. "I won't break if I stand still."

"I know," Ina replied. Then, after a pause. "You don't smell like fear when you look at him."

Lily's hands went still. "I don't understand your rules."

"Child, we only have one rule: survive by not pretending." Ina glanced up, a small smile ghosting her weathered face. "You're beautiful. They'll hate you faster for that than for being human."

I didn't know if that was meant as comfort or a warning.

A shadow fell across the worktable. The bark knife slipped in Lily's hand. A spot of red bloomed on her finger and dripped onto the wood.

"Clumsy," a voice said from behind her - smooth, and coated in contempt.

Sera.

I'd been watching from the treeline, but now I stepped closer, staying just out of sight. I wanted to see how Lily handled this.

Lily pressed her thumb against the cut and stood. "It was an accident. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't feed pups," Sera said coldly. She reached past Lily and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the stripped bark scattering to the ground.

The pack gasped.

Lily's spine straightened. I could see the old instinct rise in her - the need to shrink, to apologize until the storm passed. But then something shifted in her eyes.

Anger.

"I can do better," she said evenly. "I'll try again."

Sera's mouth curled. "Or maybe you can go back to the edge of the campfire and wait for the Alpha to decide what to do with his plaything."

The word landed like a slap.

My hands curled into fists. Every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to cross that clearing and end this before it escalated.

But Lily spoke first.

"My name is Lily," she said, her voice steady despite the pulse hammering in her throat. "And I'm here to help."

"You want to belong," Sera said, stepping closer. "Those aren't the same thing."

"Enough, Sera," Ina snapped. "If you need to spit, spit in the ash."

Sera's eyes flashed to the bead of blood still welling on Lily's thumb. She smiled - slow, and reptilian. "Be careful. Human blood sings to the wrong ears."

She reached out as if to examine Lily's wound.

Lily stepped back.

The movement was small. The effect was not.

A low chorus of growls rippled through the nearby wolves - instinct rising like smoke. Sera's eyes flared. Challenge scented the air.

"If you touch me without permission again," Lily said, her voice low but unwavering, "I'll scream loud enough for your Alpha to hear who started it."

Silence snapped tight.

I felt pride flare hot and fast in my chest. Dangerous pride. The kind that made me want to step into that circle and tell the entire pack that this woman - this human who'd walked through fire and refused to burn was under my protection.

But I held back. She needed to fight this battle herself.

Sera's smile returned, sharper now. "You don't need your voice to bring him running," she whispered. "He's already listening while you breathe."

She was right. I was listening. I was always listening when it came to Lily.

I heard footsteps behind me - pack members shifting, scenting the air. The dynamic was changing. They could feel it.

"Lily?" Ina called, already moving to defuse the situation.

But before anyone could intervene, a sharp cry cut through the camp - a pup's scream, sudden and terrified.

Every head turned.

The cry cut off abruptly.

I was moving before I thought, my body already halfway across the clearing. But it was the smell that hit me first - pale sap, fresh earth, something that didn't belong.

From the shadows beyond the firelight, something dragged itself into view.

Not a man. Not an animal.

A root. Thin, pale, writhing like a living thing. And wrapped around a child's ankle like a bracelet, tightening.