Chapter 2

“I think it’s best if I take you to a hospital,” Liam suggested. She squeezed her hands tighter, trembling from the cold. It was mid-October, and the pine forest was damp from a light rain. She was soaked and underdressed, shivering uncontrollably.

“Okay, let’s walk over to the fire and get a little warmer. Then we can figure out what to do next,” he proposed, taking a step towards her. She made a sudden movement, attempting to stand but needing to brace herself against a nearby tree. Her trembling was so severe that maintaining an upright posture was a challenge.

“These pine trees have sweet bark. They say each one has a different scent, but they’re all somewhat sweet, like vanilla or cinnamon. Take a moment and smell it. It might help,” he spoke gently, recalling something he had read about using sensory experiences to aid in moments of trauma. She pressed her forehead against the rough bark, taking deep breaths, and it seemed to provide some relief. After inhaling deeply, she stood up again, displaying more stability than before. If she found his advice strange or unwarranted, she didn’t show it.

Turning to face the hill, she took a step forward, only to immediately slide into the muddy undergrowth, making no progress. Reacting quickly, Liam grabbed her upper arms, preventing her from toppling over. His towering stature and presence, even while standing downhill, could be intimidating on the best of days, and he was acutely aware of how intimidating he must seem to her in this vulnerable state.

“I can’t even walk properly,” she muttered, her voice filled with despair as she continued to sob, becoming more and more hysterical. Liam felt a sense of helplessness, unsure of what to do in this situation. He held her at arm’s length, like an adult unsure of how to handle a distressed child. She seemed lost in her emotions, completely unresponsive to any attempts at movement. Liam shifted uncomfortably, realizing that physical contact with a man might not be welcome in her current state.

“Um, it’s cold, and staying here is a bit dangerous, so I’m going to touch you, okay?” he spoke softly, aware that waiting for permission might not yield any response. Gently setting her on her feet, she immediately slumped down as if her energy had been drained. Among the belongings scattered in the duffle bag, Liam found a scratchy blanket that someone had thoughtlessly packed, taking up a significant amount of space. Extracting the army green fabric, he wrapped it tightly around her, hoping to avoid any unnecessary skin-to-skin contact, as if that could make the situation any better.

Bending effortlessly, he used his arms to lift her up as if he were operating a forklift. One arm supported her knees while the other cradled her back. She remained silent and rigid, not making a single sound. Liam made sure to place his hand on her arm, keeping his fingers together as if she were a skittish horse that might mistake his thumb for a carrot. He applied a gentle squeeze to let her know he wasn’t trying to invade her personal space any more than necessary. Standing upright, he slowly and smoothly began to navigate his way back towards the fire.

Lowering her into one of the chairs, she sat there, staring blankly at the fire without blinking. Tears had streaked down her cheeks, washing away dirt and smudged makeup. Leaving her in her motionless state, Liam rummaged through the camp and found another discarded backpack containing spare clothes.

“Oh, score,” he muttered to himself as he uncovered a red puffer vest, plain jeans, a few shirts, and a pair of boots, along with some poorly washed socks stuffed inside.

“Here, see if any of this will fit you. I know it’s strange and unsettling to wear the clothes of your abusers, but you need to stay warm. It’s too cold for you out here,” he explained, tossing the bag next to her chair a bit more forcefully this time. The abruptness seemed to shake her out of her daze, and she pulled the bag towards her, mechanically rummaging through its contents, her expression still eerily devoid of emotion.

Liam positioned himself on the ground slightly behind her, deliberately averting his gaze toward the forest to provide her with privacy as she dressed. After a few moments of silence, she huffed and curled back into the chair. She had discarded her own soiled clothes, throwing them into the fire, and now she wore a long-sleeved shirt layered under a t-shirt, with cuffed jeans that gave her a somewhat vintage 1940s paperboy look. She had doubled up on socks, wearing two pairs on each foot. The boots were far too large, so she left them beside the chair.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the chilly night air, her voice carrying a sense of vulnerability. Her words caught in her throat, and a sob escaped her. Liam found himself in a complicated position. Helping her was undoubtedly the right thing to do, but how could he navigate the situation without further distressing her or becoming entangled in potential political conflicts? Relations between wolves and humans were highly charged at the moment, and everyone seemed to have an opinion on the matter. Adding to the complexity was his own attraction to her. He had detected her scent even before he had spotted the fire.

His senses were keen but not that keen. It meant that they were highly compatible, and while this would be cause for celebration for many wolves, for him, it posed a problem. How inconvenient, he thought to himself, grappling with the complications that lay ahead.

“Um,” he hesitated, taken aback by the unexpected revelation of compatibility with a human. Such occurrences were rare within his own social circle, as he didn’t know many of his own kind to begin with. Additionally, there was a more pressing concern at hand: How was he going to find a way to get them to a hospital or somewhere indoors? He had set out for a run, unprepared and unsuspecting of encountering another person. This part of Oregon was known for its dense forests and tranquility, which was precisely why he enjoyed it. Though his predicament paled in comparison to the horrors she had endured that night, it nonetheless posed a significant obstacle.

“Hello?” she spoke nervously, urging him to continue his train of thought. He found solace in reverting to basic manners despite the odd timing after such an intimate encounter.

“Hi, my name is Liam,” he stated with as much neutrality as he could muster. She turned her head, squinting and blinking into the darkness, attempting to capture a clearer image of him. As he stood up, her gaze followed him as if she were a child gazing at the Eiffel Tower for the first time. Liam crouched in front of her, extending his large, paw-like hands.

“Hello, my name is Selena,” she responded timidly, the faint scent of fear lingering in the air. Despite her apprehension, she reached out tentatively. He was right; in times like these, people often fall back on basic manners. His hand completely enveloped hers, and it felt as if she were shaking just one of his fingers, so massive were his hands. Rather than shaking hands, he simply gave her hand a warm squeeze while maintaining eye contact. Selena had deep blue eyes that resembled shattered glass, with intricate patterns like spiderwebs. They were slightly too large for her face, lending her an almost otherworldly quality. The web-like patterns were more concentrated around her pupils, resembling wisps of clouds illuminated by the moon.

Her skin was fair, reminiscent of a redhead’s complexion, with freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. However, it was challenging to distinguish between the freckles and the dirt smudges, given her current disheveled state.

He silently hoped that she had encountered his kind before, aware that previous exposure might make things easier. There had been efforts to educate humans about wolf culture and norms, but if she had attended a school with such programs, her reaction might not have been positive. Many humans had formed strong opinions, and any interaction could further solidify their existing beliefs. Although neither of them had firsthand memories of the Great War, they were both aware of someone who had experienced it, which undoubtedly influenced their perspectives. Pushing those thoughts aside, he took a deep breath and tried to explain in a way that would keep her calm, maintaining his hunkered position to make her feel more at ease.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever encountered someone like me or what you know about our kind, but we have a need to change and run freely from time to time. Luckily for you, I chose tonight and this particular place,” he said, flashing a half-smile while observing her still expression.

“I never expected to find myself helping a damsel in distress. But now, you’ll have to guide me on what you need and how I can assist you,” he continued, his gaze shifting nervously as he tried to gauge if he had inadvertently made her uncomfortable.

“You saved me, and now you’re giving me the space and freedom to determine how I want to be saved? I thought chivalry was long gone,” she remarked, her words carrying a hint of sarcasm due to his genuine actions. Her compliment caused him to blush, grateful that the darkness concealed his embarrassment. However, comments like these would only make it harder to sever the emotional ties when the time came.

“Ah, so you haven’t encountered someone like me before? We’re not all snarling beasts, although I’m sure those... jerks would think otherwise. Usually, people have had some exposure to our kind, either through meetings or educational programs in schools. Some wolf packs even have representatives who visit and provide information. We don’t hide, but given the current circumstances, many of us prefer to keep to ourselves for the sake of simplicity,” he explained, trying to gently guide the conversation. The word “Werewolf” felt like a potential trigger, and he wanted to avoid scaring her in any way at the moment.

“I actually met a Shifter when I was younger. They visited my elementary school. I remember being really excited, but the parents overshadowed everything. All I can recall is their yelling, the signs, and the hostility. I can’t even remember what the Shifter looked like because those protesting humans dominated my memories,” she shared, using the term “Shifter” instead of any derogatory names. Word choice could reveal one’s political leanings, and her choice suggested a friendlier perspective toward his kind. She either had activist tendencies or simply wanted to avoid angering him, and he was fine with either reason.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you. Right now, all I have are words, but you saved my life, or at least my immediate future. I’ll be forever grateful to you, and you’ve shown me how to navigate difficult situations with kindness and grace,” she said, blushing and looking away. Complimenting speeches still made her cheeks flush, but he deserved the praise, regardless of her embarrassment. They sat in silence, watching as the flames gradually turned into embers, consuming the remnants of the clothing she had been wearing before.

It was a crazy experience.

It felt really crazy.