Dropped on my Doorstep

Garrick

The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the rough-hewn walls of my small cabin. Outside, the wind whistled through the pines, carrying with it the promise of another storm. I stood at the large window in my tiny office, my gaze drawn to the distant silhouette of the Frostpeak Range. Those jagged peaks, barely visible on the horizon, were a constant reminder of the responsibilities I'd left behind.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the familiar tingle of magic coursing beneath my skin. The power of the Ice Wolves was both a blessing and a curse, setting us apart from other shifters and isolating us from the world beyond our mountain home. It was that isolation, and the weight of leadership, that had driven me to seek refuge in this remote cabin, at the far edge of my pack's territory.

"You can't run forever, Garrick," Sin's voice echoed in my memory. My beta's stormy gray eyes had been filled with concern as she'd confronted me before I left. "The pack needs you. We can't face these challenges alone."

I growled softly, running a hand through my shaggy black hair. The challenges she spoke of were numerous and complex. Whispers of dark forces stirring in the lowlands, encroaching human settlements threatening our secrecy, and the ever-present struggle to balance our ancient traditions with a changing world.

"I'm not running," I had told Sin, though the words felt hollow even then. "I need time to think, to strategize. I can't do that with the entire pack looking to me for answers I don't have."

Turning away from the window, I paced the small confines of the cabin. This place was a far cry from the grand stone and ice palace that served as our pack's stronghold, but its simplicity grounded me. Here, miles from the nearest settlement, I could shed the mantle of Alpha and simply be Garrick.

Unbidden, my mind drifted to the tense council meeting that had precipitated my self-imposed exile.

"We should reveal ourselves to the humans," Caden, one of our younger warriors, had argued passionately. "Form alliances before it's too late. Our isolation makes us vulnerable."

"And risk everything we've built?" Elder Thora had countered, her voice sharp with disapproval. "We've maintained our secrecy for a reason. To expose ourselves now would be folly."

The debate had raged on, voices rising until the very air crackled with conflicting energies. And there I stood, caught in the middle, expected to have all the answers.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the memory. The weight of leadership had never felt heavier than in that moment. How could I guide my people when I wasn't even sure of the path forward myself? Or even where the threats were coming from?

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. I watched them dance, remembering the day I'd first called fire from ice – a rare gift even among our kind. The elders had seen it as a sign, proof that I was destined to lead. But destiny, I was learning, was a fickle thing.

"You carry the legacy of a hundred Ice Wolf alphas," my father had told me on his deathbed. "Trust in your instincts, in the power that flows through your veins. It will never lead you astray."

I snorted softly. If only it were that simple. The power was there, yes, but wielding it wisely? That was the true challenge.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the shutters, pulling me from my brooding thoughts. I moved to stoke the fire, grateful for the simple task. Perhaps that was why I'd really come here – to remember what it was like to rely on my own two hands rather than ancient magics.

As I knelt by the hearth, a strange sensation prickled at the base of my skull. My wolf stirred, suddenly alert. Someone – or something – was approaching the cabin.

I rose slowly, every sense on high alert. Out here, miles from the nearest settlement, visitors were rare and often dangerous. I reached for the heavy iron poker, its weight reassuring in my hand. Magic might be my birthright, but I'd learned long ago not to rely on it exclusively.

The floorboards of the porch creaked, and I tensed, ready to confront whatever threat awaited. But instead of an attack, I heard a soft thud – then nothing.

Cautiously, I approached the door. My wolf urged me to shift, to meet this potential danger in my stronger form. But curiosity held me back. There was something... different about this presence. It didn't feel like a threat, but rather like a cry for help.

I yanked the door open, icy wind whipping into the cabin. There, crumpled on my porch, lay a woman. Her auburn hair was matted with leaves and dirt, her clothes torn and stained. She was clearly human – or so I thought at first glance – and in dire need of assistance.

"By the frozen moon," I muttered, quickly kneeling to check for signs of life. Her pulse was weak but steady, her skin far too cold for comfort. Whatever had brought her to my doorstep, it was clear she wouldn't survive much longer in this state.

Without hesitation, I dropped the poker and scooped her into my arms, marveling at how light she felt. As I carried her inside, shutting the door with my heavy boot against the howling wind, a scent caught my attention. Beneath the layers of forest and fear, there was something... familiar. Something that called to my wolf in a way I couldn't quite understand.

I shook off the strange feeling, focusing on the task at hand. I laid her gently on the bearskin rug before the fire, its warmth the most pressing need. As I began to remove her sodden outer layers, my mind raced with questions. Who was she? Where had she come from? The nearest human settlement was days away, and no ordinary human could have survived that journey in this weather—especially in nothing more than some thin pants and a long-sleeve shirt.

As I worked to warm her and clean away the grime, I found myself studying her face. Even unconscious and battered by the elements, there was a strength in her features that spoke of a fierce spirit. My wolf paced restlessly within me, drawn to this mysterious woman in a way I'd never experienced before.

I retrieved clean, dry clothes from my own meager belongings – they would be too large for her, but they would serve until her own could be washed and mended. As I carefully redressed her, mindful of any hidden injuries, I couldn't help but notice her form. Her figure was undeniably feminine, with graceful curves that spoke of a woman in her prime. Yet beneath that softness, I could see the lean muscles of a warrior or hunter.

My hands trembled slightly as I worked, struck by the dichotomy of her strength and vulnerability. Her skin, though pale from cold and exhaustion, held a warm undertone that seemed to glow in the firelight. I found myself mesmerized by the delicate arch of her collarbones, the graceful line of her neck.

It felt almost sacrilegious, admiring her beauty in such a state, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. She was like a sculpture carved by a master artist – every line and curve perfectly balanced, telling a story of both power and grace.

As I gently lifted her arm to slip it into a sleeve, I noticed faint scars and calluses crisscrossing her hands. These weren't the marks of a pampered life, but of someone who had faced trials and emerged stronger for them. Intricate, unusual tattoos ran up her firm arms that caused my wolf to stir restlessly. My breath caught in my lungs as I was suddenly filled with an inexplicable urge to protect and cherish this remarkable woman.

Shaking myself from my reverie, I finished dressing her, acutely aware of the trust implicit in this act, even if she was unconscious. As I tucked a blanket around her still form, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something crucial. There was more to this woman than met the eye, a mystery that called to both man and wolf.

"Who are you?" I murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "And what are you doing out here?"

The fire popped and hissed, as if in answer to my questions. I settled back on my heels, watching the color slowly return to her cheeks. Whatever her story, it was clear that she had been through something traumatic. Even in unconsciousness, there was a tension in her body, as if she were bracing for some unseen blow.

I found myself wondering about her life, the circumstances that had driven her to this remote area. Was she running from something, as I was? Or running towards something, drawn by the same inexplicable pull that had led me to build this cabin so far from my pack's main territory?

The night deepened around us, the storm outside growing in intensity. I stoked the fire and settled into the old rocking chair, unwilling to leave her side. My wolf remained agitated, pacing the confines of my mind. There was something about this woman, something that defied easy explanation. I found myself both eager for and apprehensive of the moment she would wake.

As the hours ticked by, I drifted in and out of a light doze, my senses still attuned to any change in her condition. It was nearing dawn when a soft whimper broke the silence. I snapped to attention, watching as her eyelids fluttered.

"Kael," she murmured, the name laced with pain and betrayal. "Why?"

Before I could process the raw emotion in that single word, her eyes flew open. For a moment, she seemed disoriented, her gaze darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. Then her eyes locked on me, and I saw fear bloom in their depths.

She scrambled backwards, her movements panicked and uncoordinated. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice hoarse. "Where am I?"

I held up my hands, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. "It's alright," I said softly. "You're safe. I found you collapsed outside my cabin. I brought you in to warm up and rest."

She pressed herself against the wall, her chest heaving with rapid breaths. I could see her mind working, trying to piece together how she had ended up here. The fear in her eyes was tinged with confusion and something deeper – a profound loss that made my heart ache in sympathy.

"I'm Garrick," I offered, keeping my voice low and soothing. "This is my cabin. You're in the foothills of the Frostpeak Range. Can you tell me your name?"

She hesitated, wariness warring with a need for connection. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Ailith. My name is Ailith."

As soon as the name left her lips, I felt a jolt of recognition, though I was certain we'd never met. My wolf surged forward, suddenly desperate to be closer to her. With an effort, I held myself in check, not wanting to frighten her further.

"Ailith," I repeated, tasting the name. "You're safe here, Ailith. I promise you that. Whatever brought you to my door, whatever you're running from – you don't have to face it alone anymore."

Something in my words seemed to reach her. The tension in her body eased slightly, though wariness still radiated from her in waves. She looked down, seeming to notice for the first time that she was wearing unfamiliar clothes.

"I... I don't remember how I got here," she admitted, her voice small and lost. "Everything's a blur after..." She trailed off, pain flashing across her features.

My wolf pushed me to comfort her, to chase away the shadows that haunted her eyes. But instinct told me to move slowly, to let her set the pace. "You don't have to explain anything right now," I assured her. "You're exhausted and probably hungry. Why don't we start with getting you something to eat? Then you can rest more if you need to."

Ailith nodded hesitantly, some of the fear leaving her expression. As I moved to the small kitchen area to prepare a simple meal, I could feel her eyes on me, studying me with a mixture of curiosity and lingering apprehension.

My mind raced as I worked. Who was this woman who had quite literally fallen into my life? Why did she affect me so strongly? And most puzzling of all – why couldn't I sense her wolf? For I was certain now that she was a shifter, though that part of her seemed dormant, hidden away.

As the scent of cooking food filled the cabin, I heard Ailith's stomach growl loudly. A small, embarrassed laugh escaped her – the first positive sound I'd heard from her. It sent a warm thrill through me, igniting a fierce desire to protect her, to help her heal from whatever wounds she carried.

I turned back to her, offering a gentle smile. "The food will be ready soon. In the meantime, would you like some tea? It might help warm you up."

Ailith nodded, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Tea would be nice, thank you."

As I prepared the tea, I couldn't shake the feeling that Ailith's arrival marked a major shift in my life. The solitude I'd sought here was shattered, but in its place, I sensed the stirrings of something new. Something life-changing.