CHAPTER 40: DANCING WOLVES

Chapter 40

The forest is alive with night.

Moonlight filters through the canopy in silver ribbons, illuminating the two wolves as they bound through the undergrowth. The black wolf leads at first, large and powerful, his form slicing through the darkness like a shadow come alive. Behind him, the white wolf follows with elegant strides, her glowing coat a beacon of light in the gloom.

They dance through the woods—glimpses of fur, bursts of breath, paws thudding against the earth. Their energy is wild and euphoric, two primal beings drunk on the scent of each other, the taste of night, the rush of freedom.

He slows suddenly, darting to the left, and she responds with a mocking yip, veering right to cut him off. They crash into each other with a thud, rolling over damp grass and leaves. He ends up beneath her, teeth bared in a teasing snarl, but she licks his snout before leaping off, tail high and proud.

The black wolf growls low, amused and aroused by the game. He lunges after her, jaws snapping playfully near her heels. The white wolf dodges, spinning on her paws and doubling back. She bumps his side, her body brushing against his flank deliberately, and they pause there—noses close, panting, watching each other with ancient understanding.

Then they’re off again.

The forest parts for them, or maybe they part it with the force of their presence. Owls pause in flight. Crickets fall silent. And somewhere in the distance, a deer bolts.

The wolves follow.

Their hunt isn’t urgent—it’s not hunger that drives them—but instinct, the ancient memory of what it means to hunt beside someone who knows you. The black wolf takes the lead this time, his body lower, more deliberate. The white wolf is close behind, her steps ghost-silent but precise.

They move as one.

The deer spots them too late.

It bolts through a clearing, muscles taut with terror, but the wolves don’t pounce immediately. They flank, corner, guide. It’s not about the kill—it’s the game. A shared language written in motion and breath.

When they finally catch it, it’s the black wolf who takes it down. The white one watches from the edge, her chest rising with effort, eyes shining. There is blood, a flash of teeth, but it’s over quickly. He doesn’t gorge. Instead, he steps back, allowing her to approach first. A quiet offering.

She brushes against him as she eats. He presses his nose into her fur.

Afterward, they don’t linger. The kill is left behind—sacred, respected—and they return to the path, moving in a slow trot now, bodies slick with sweat and moonlight.

The black wolf nips at her tail. She yips and barrels into him.

They play again—gentler now, more tactile than teasing. There’s a rhythm to it: a nose against a neck, a paw laid over a shoulder. Every movement says, You’re mine.

Eventually, they return to the blanket where it all began. It’s ruffled and damp with dew, but familiar. Safe.

The white wolf flops down first, sighing in her way. She circles twice before settling, her front paws tucked beneath her. The black wolf lies down beside her, massive and hulking, and wraps his body around hers. His nose nuzzles under her chin. She leans into it.

He begins to groom her—slow, thorough licks down her neck, across her shoulder, behind her ear. She shifts but doesn’t move away, letting him soothe her. His tongue is warm, his breath heavier now, his growls soft and satisfied.

She turns and licks his face once—tender, possessive.

Then she rests her head on his forelegs.

They stay like that, wrapped in each other, fur mingling under the stars, the sounds of the forest folding around them again. Wind whispers through the trees.

The black wolf lifts his head once more and licks the white wolf’s muzzle with slow, deliberate affection. Then her ears twitch, and she bumps his snout in return. Their movements are quiet, but steeped in something ancient—an intimacy that no words could match.

Above them, the stars begin to fade, the indigo sky paling by degrees. A bird calls once, twice, a note that echoes through the awakening forest. Then another answers. Morning is blooming, subtle and gold-tipped.

And slowly, the black wolf’s breathing evens out.

The white wolf’s eyes flutter shut.

The first rays of sunlight break over the horizon and spill across their fur. The black wolf stiffens slightly—nose raised, ears alert—and then something begins to change.

A ripple runs through his body. Bones lengthen. Limbs twist. Fur retracts. He grits his teeth as his wolf shape begins to dissolve, the shift rolling over him like fire and wind.

The white wolf lets out a small whimper, and then she too begins to shift. Her form stretches, shimmers, and then collapses inward like a wave pulling back to shore.

Two bodies, naked and shivering in the growing light, lie on the rumpled blanket.

Cameron stirs first, chest heaving, arms trembling. He doesn’t speak. Just reaches over and gently tucks Lenora against his side, pulling her into the circle of his warmth.

Lenora doesn’t flinch. Her eyes flutter open, and she exhales a breath that could be a laugh or a sigh. She tucks her head under his chin, one hand sliding up his chest to feel his heart thudding beneath skin.

They lie there, tangled and quiet, as the dawn stretches her arms across the sky. Hints of gold catch on the edges of the trees, lighting up the mist that clings to the forest floor like a sleeping spell not yet broken. Somewhere nearby, the chirp of birdsong begins in earnest—brisk, sweet, and unapologetically alive.

Cameron exhales. A long, slow breath that makes Lenora’s head rise and fall with the rhythm of it.

"You’re warm," she murmurs, voice sleep-rough and satisfied. She tilts her head slightly to look up at him, her cheek still pressed against his chest.

"You’re heavier than you look," he replies, mouth tugging into the faintest smile.

Lenora pinches his side in retaliation, but there’s no malice behind it. Only playfulness. "Says the man who nearly crushed me last night."

"Crushed?" Cameron raises an eyebrow. "You were the one egging me on like a feral little temptress."

"I don’t regret it one bit." Lenora responded snuggling closer.