CHAPTER 237: HUNT

The sound of paws thumping on the forest floor rebounded in the quiet grove. Twigs snapped beneath great weight, leaves scattered, and birds scattered into the canopy in a flurry.

Darius padded through the underbrush with little care for the noise he made. This was his domain, one of the secluded glades deeper within the Hawthorne woodlands, sacred land held in trust by his family for generations. No one trespassed here, not even pack guards. If they did, they had a death wish.

His coat gleamed in the scattered light, a rich auburn like polished chestnut, catching hints of red where the sun filtered through the trees. Massive in size, he moved like someone who lived and breathed the land. His breath came in slow, steady exhales, steaming faintly in the cool of early evening. A breeze lifted the edges of his fur. He decided to put off the remainder of his work for the rest of the day to relish in the secluded area.

’Or to avoid thinking,’ muttered a dry voice inside his mind.

’You are unusually quiet, Ronan.’ Darius sent the thought without warmth. He had kept his wolf mute for the most of the day to quell the animal’s grating words.

*Because you have been unusually *broody*,* Ronan replied with that infuriating spark he always carried. *Storming around like the trees personally offended you. Just say it. You are thinking about her again at least I have.*

Darius came to a halt near the ridge where moss blanketed a fallen log. He sat, tail curling beside his haunch, and exhaled through his snout.

I have more pressing matters.

’That is not what I asked,’ Ronan pushed. ’You keep making excuses. She is *right there*, and you are treating her like she might catch fire if you get too close.’

She does not need me hovering. His mental tone was firmer now. She is juggling a thousand stories, every word is like a springtrap. If I crowd her-

’She is a wolf, not a porcelain vase. She did not ask you to solve it all for her. Maybe she just needs you near.’

Darius growled low, a warning sound. The rustle of a squirrel fleeing the brush startled nearby birds again. Ronan backed off with a sigh.

’Alright. I will drop it, have it your way, you fool.’ A pause. ’I was just saying. You act like you were born with a block head, I think you were sometimes. You should let me take over.’

They both fell silent for a while, letting the hush of the glade settle again. The trees were tall and ancient here, twisted with old magic. Roots knotted beneath the forest floor like veins, deep and strong. Darius watched a beetle climb across a fern, the moment so still it nearly lulled him.

Then Ronan nudged in again, less sharply this time.

’I was wondering when Nathan would get back. Imagine my surprise when he showed up when you were acting like a lovesick fool.’

Darius huffed a short breath, part laughter, part exhale. He made it back in one piece thankfully.

’He looks like he hasn’t slept in a year but says he’s been keeping his ears to the wind. Still holed up near the border towns, same as always. He might even want to cook that awful stew of his,’ Ronan said.

Spiced mutton and boiled regret, Darius mused dryly.

’Exactly.’

The amusement between them softened the edges of his earlier mood. He rose to his feet, giving a small shake of his coat. Just as he was about to head toward the ridge path, another sound reached his ears.

He turned just as a smaller wolf stepped into the clearing. Dark brown, nearly black where the light didn’t strike, her sleek coat blended effortlessly with the dim woods. It was Livia, of course.

She made no sound of greeting, but she didn’t need to. Her eyes met his with calm understanding. Her tail gave a soft flick. Her posture was low, and relaxed but not submissive. It told him what she wanted. A hunt.

Darius lowered his head in acknowledgment. He didn’t need words either.

With nothing more than a mutual nod, the two wolves broke into a trot, their paws finding familiar rhythm side by side. The forest welcomed them, shadows folding around their shapes as they moved deeper into the Hawthornes, noses to the wind.

And for now, Darius let everything else fall behind.

The scent hit them both at the same time, rich, musky, edged with the faint tang of crushed bark and disturbed soil. It was a stag. A large one, judging by the weight of its trail. Darius slowed, dropping lower as he angled his head to the wind. Livia mirrored him without instruction, her lithe frame nearly silent as she crept forward through the brush.

Each of their pawstep was measured and every breath was controlled.

The trail curved near a shallow stream, the ground soft beneath their pads. Darius caught sight of their quarry through a lattice of ferns, a proud creature, antlers wide and velveted, flank twitching as it drank from the pool. Its ears flicked once.

He glanced at Livia. She inclined her head in understanding.

She peeled off soundlessly, arcing wide to the left. Darius remained crouched. The stag lifted its head, sensing something amiss, but it was already too late. Livia sprang from the side with a snarl that startled the creature into a blind dash straight toward Darius.

He gave a wolfish grin and lunged at the animal.

The weight of him hit the stag’s shoulder hard, toppling it sideways. Livia was upon it in the next breath, jaws clamping down. The kill was swift, and respectful.

Darius stepped back, chest heaving once, and offered her the first bite. She took it without ceremony.

Then he joined her, crouched beside her in the wild hush of dusk. The blood was warm, the meat rich. The glade embraced them again, the sacred quiet returning like a benediction.