Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    The sun had barely climbed over the treetops when Clarke and Raven pedaled their bikes down the dirt path, dust kicking up behind them. The air still smelled of last night’s rain, fresh and earthy, and the leaves glistened in the morning light.

    “We are so gonna ace this project,” Clarke declared, her blonde hair messy from the wind.

    Raven snorted. “Yeah, if our project is about how many times you can fall off your bike.”

    Clarke swerved dramatically. “Hey! That was one time—”

    “Three times,” Raven corrected, grinning.

    They weren’t exactly serious about their school project on local wildlife. So far, their "research" had mostly been climbing trees, throwing pebbles into the creek, and pretending to be explorers. But, in their defense, learning was way more fun when it didn’t feel like school.

    They rode deeper toward the forest’s edge, where the Griffin ranch met the wilderness. The Griffins had lived here for years, raising cattle and horses, and Clarke had grown up knowing every trail, every tree, and every hidden creek. The forest was home—but not without its dangers.

    That was why the rule was never go too far.

    But Clarke had always been curious.

    And curiosity, it seemed, wasn’t just a human trait.

    The wolf pup ran.

    Her legs burned, her breath came ragged, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

    The bear had come out of nowhere, massive and roaring, scattering her pack like dry leaves in the wind. The leader had fought back, and her mother had tried to shield the weakest members of the pack—pups and females. But the bear was stronger, her mother were heavily injured. 

    The wolf pup and the rest of the weakest packmates were safe from the bear, as her sister had barked and lured the bear away from the fallen adult female wolf; their mother. The rest of the pups and females were injured on their run. They need help, and the alpha of the pack, her sire, along with few male wolves were already dead because of the first battle with the bear. She had tried to run, tried to follow her big sister's scent, to somehow help to fight off the bear— but she had fallen, tumbled down a steep drop, her small body rolling and crashing through the underbrush.

    Pain flared up her side. Something was wrong with her leg.

    She whined softly, ears flicking back. The forest felt different here. Wrong.

    Her mother always said, Never go past the trees, never go where the ground turns to open sky. That is not our world.

    But she had fallen past the trees.

    And now she was alone.

    She tried to move, but her body refused. The earth was damp beneath her, her fur shivering against the cold.

    Maybe this is where I go to meet Gaia.

    That was what the elders said—that when their time came, they would return to the earth and be taken to the Great Forest beyond. Where their pack would be whole again.

    She let out a slow, tired breath.

    Then, just before her eyes slipped closed, a shadow fell over her.

    For a moment, she thought she was seeing Gaia herself.

    But then—

    Soft words, unfamiliar but soothing.

    Gentle hands, warm and careful.

    A scent, like sunlit grass and home.

    Not a goddess.

    A girl.

    “She’s hurt,” Clarke whispered, her voice barely above the wind.

    The wolf pup didn’t move, just lay curled in the dirt, her fur matted with blood. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

    Clarke’s heart squeezed.

    “She’s gonna die if we don’t help her,” she said, already pulling off her sweater.

   Raven shifted uneasily beside her. “Uh, Clarke? It’s still a wild animal.”

    Clarke ignored her, gently draping the sweater over the small, shivering body. The pup barely reacted, just a slow flick of her ear.

    “It’s okay,” Clarke murmured. “You’re gonna be okay.”

    The pup’s green eyes flickered open—just for a second. Clarke froze.

    There was something in that gaze. Something knowing.

    She swallowed.

    “I’m gonna get help,” she promised.

    Raven’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You’re leaving me alone with it?”

    Clarke stood, already sprinting toward her bike. “You’re brave, you got this!”

    Raven groaned. “Yeah, well, I was brave—what it it looked at me like I was its last meal?”

    But Clarke was already pedaling as fast as she could toward the ranch.

---

    By the time Clarke skidded to a stop at the ranch, her legs burned from pedaling so hard.

    “MOM! DAD!” she shouted, jumping off the bike so fast it crashed onto the dirt.

    Abby Griffin stepped out of the clinic, still in her vet scrubs. “Clarke, what—?”

    “There’s a wolf—she’s hurt—bad—” Clarke panted, words tumbling over each other. “Please, we have to help her!”

    Jake Griffin appeared from the barn, wiping his hands on a rag. “A wolf?” he repeated, brows raising. “Clarke, you know we—”

    “She’s just a pup,” Clarke cut in. “She’s all alone! Please, we have to go now!”

    Abby and Jake exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them.

    Then Abby nodded. “Get the first-aid kit.”

    Jake grabbed his truck keys.

---
    They found Raven sitting a little ways from the pup, her arms crossed tightly.

    “She’s… still breathing,” Raven reported. Then she side-eyed the unconscious wolf. “But I swear to God, that thing understands me.”

    Jake chuckled as he knelt down, carefully checking the pup’s injuries. “You scared, Reyes?”

    “No,” Raven huffed. “Okay, a little.”

    Abby crouched beside the pup, her expert hands moving gently but efficiently. Clarke hovered beside her, watching with anxious eyes.

    “She’s young,” Abby murmured. “A little over a year, maybe.”

    “Can we save her?” Clarke asked, voice small.

    Abby met her gaze and softened. “We can try.”

    Clarke let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

---

    The clinic smelled like antiseptic and hay, but it was warm.

    Clarke sat beside the pup, her fingers resting lightly against the soft fur on its side. The pup was bandaged now, her breathing steadier.

    “She’s a fighter,” Jake murmured from the doorway. “Tough little thing.”

    Clarke smiled. “Yeah.”

    The pup stirred slightly, not waking but shifting closer, as if seeking warmth. Clarke’s smile grew.

    She had found her.

    Or maybe the wolf had found her.

---
    "My sweet little pup, wake up. Wake up Leksa, it is not your time yet."

    She knew that voice—her mother's. But she couldn't find her. She tried to run, look for her, but a force pulled her down, and suddenly—

    Warmth.

    That was the first thing she felt.

    Not the damp, cold earth beneath her body, not the biting wind of the forest. But warmth, soft and unfamiliar, pressing against her fur.

    She stirred, blinking sluggishly. Something was wrong.

    The scents were strange—wood, hay, something sharp in the air that burned her nose. And the space—enclosed, unnatural. Not the open forest, not home.

    Where—?

    She tried to move, but her limbs were heavy, slow, as if her body no longer belonged to her. A quiet whimper escaped her throat before she could stop it.

    Then—movement.

    The soft shuffle of steps, the scent of something known.

    The sunlit-haired girl.

    The small human with eyes as blue as the summer sky.

    Leksa blinked blearily as the little human crouched near her, her expression bright with relief.

    “Hey there,” the little human whispered, her voice gentle. Warm.

    Leksa tilted her head, intrigued.

    The other little human—the dark-haired one—had been uneasy, skittish. But this one… this one was different. She was not afraid.

    Slowly, the human reached out, small fingers brushing against Leksa’s fur.

    It was warm. Gentle.

    Familiar.

    A part of her wanted to flinch away, but another part—the tired, aching part—wanted this warmth.

    Then—

    “Clarke, honey,” a voice came from somewhere, carrying both fondness and exasperation. “Don’t pet her carelessly. She’s still wounded, and she might be aggressive.”

    The little human—Clarke, Leksa noted—just shrugged, her grin unbothered. “She’s soft and cute. She didn’t even growl, Mom.”

    Leksa huffed, flattening her ears.

    Soft and cute?

    She was a wolf. A proud, fierce hunter of the forest. She was not soft. She was not cute.

    She would have told them so if her body didn’t feel so heavy, if exhaustion wasn’t pulling her back under.

    Through half-lidded eyes, she watched as Clarke giggled, the sound light and unguarded.

    “I think I embarrassed her by calling her cute.”

    Leksa grumbled quietly, shifting deeper into the warmth beneath her.

    The humans left soon after, their voices fading beyond the wooden walls of this strange place.

    Finally, she let herself sink into sleep.

    And in her dreams—

    She was running through the trees again, chasing the scent of home, of her mother.

Clarke’s POV

    Clarke Griffin had always loved animals.

    She loved running barefoot through the ranch, feeling the earth beneath her feet, chasing chickens and geese—before running back screaming when they chased her in return. It was a game now, one the animals seemed to enjoy as much as she did.

    She climbed trees, explored the edges of the forest, and once tried to sneak into the horse stables at night just to see if horses snored. (They did.)

    Now, for the past two weeks, she had a new partner in adventure.

    The wolf pup. Wolfie.

    She was healing well, but her mom still wanted to monitor her a little longer, and Clarke wasn’t complaining. Every extra day meant more time to play.

    But Clarke knew this couldn’t last forever.

    Wolves weren’t like their farm dogs. They belonged in the forest, where the wind was crisp and the shadows stretched long between the trees. They needed the wild to survive, to thrive.

    Wolfie was strong.

    She would leave one day.

    But not today.

    Today, Wolfie had taken up a new job—guarding their livestock at night.

    Somehow, the farm dogs didn’t mind her presence. They didn’t growl or chase her off.

    She had earned her place.

    And Clarke was so proud.

---
Leksa’s POV

    A few days ago…

    Leksa stood in front of the farm’s lead dog, Ben.

    They spoke in the way animals did, through low growls and sharp whines—though to human ears, it was just noise.

    "I want to help," Leksa had said. "Let me guard the animals. I owe this pack my life."

    Ben eyed her, untrusting.

    Leksa held his stare.

    Finally, the gruff old dog let out a short woof and turned away. "Do what you want, wolfie. Just don’t make any noise."

    Leksa took that as approval.

    That night, she took her place on the farm’s borders, circling the enclosures, checking the fences, ears twitching at every distant rustle in the trees.

    It felt good to be useful.

    By morning, exhaustion weighed on her limbs, but satisfaction filled her chest.

    Leksa padded up to the front door and flopped down onto the cool wooden porch.

    And then—

    A familiar scent.

    A sleepy voice.

    “Mornin’, Wolfie…”

    Leksa cracked an eye open.

    Klark stood there, blinking at her, hair still messy from sleep.

    Leksa snorted. Little Klark is not a morning person.

    Before she could move, Klark collapsed onto her in a loose, warm hug.

    Leksa tensed—but only for a second.

    “Mmm. You’re warm. So comfy,” Klark mumbled into her fur.

    Leksa flicked an ear.

    “Don’t wanna go to school. Wanna stay with you.”

    Leksa huffed. She tilted her head, letting out a short bark.

    I will go with you to this school place. Guard you. You are too weak to be so far from home.

    Then—her ears flattened.

    Home.

    For the first time in days, she thought of the forest. Of her mother. Of the pack.

    Of the loss that still ached deep in her bones.

    The sadness lingered, curling around her like mist—until Klark laughed, bright and careless.

    Leksa blinked.

    “You wanna come?” Klark grinned, scratching behind Leksa’s ears. “You can’t, silly. People at school would freak out. They’re not as brave as me.”

    Leksa huffed again. That was… fair.

    Her mother had always told her—humans were not to be feared or hunted, but they were dangerous when scared.

    And scared humans were just like wild animals.

    Vicious when cornered.

    Leksa let out a slow breath, watching as Klark stood, stretching.

    At the ranch gate, Reivon was already waiting, sitting on her bike.

    For the first time, she waved at Leksa instead of running away.

    “See you later, badass wolfie!” she called.

    Leksa’s tail gave the smallest flick of approval.

    Maybe she could like this other little human.

    She called Leksa badass, after all.

---

    That night, Clarke had a strange dream.

    She found herself walking through a forest—an ancient, beautiful place where the trees stretched endlessly into the sky. Their leaves whispered with the wind, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. A soft golden light filtered through the canopy, making the world feel like something out of a fairytale.

    Beside her, a woman walked in silence. She was taller than Clarke, with dark brown hair that shimmered under the glow of the forest light. But it was her eyes that Clarke couldn’t look away from—green, deep and endless, like the very heart of the forest. They were warm, kind, but filled with sorrow.

    The woman looked down at her and smiled, gentle but heavy with sadness.

    "Thank you, Klark, for saving my baby," she said softly. "I wish I could do more for her… stay a bit longer to love her. But you showed her love and taught her to live."

    Clarke frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

    The woman chuckled lightly, though her sadness never left. "The wolf, Klark," she said, her voice carrying the weight of something ancient. "She is my child. Leksa."

    Clarke’s breath hitched. "Lexa?"

    The woman nodded, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Yes, Leksa. Please… guide her back to the forest when you are sure she is ready. The forest needs her, and she needs the forest."

    Clarke wanted to say something, to ask more questions, but all she could feel was the growing ache in her chest. The thought of letting Wolfie—Lexa—go was unbearable.

    As if sensing her pain, the woman reached out, gently wiping away the tears Clarke hadn’t even realized she was shedding.

    "She will visit you once in a while, don’t be sad," she reassured her.

    Clarke swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay…"

    The woman smiled, her eyes filled with something like gratitude. She led Clarke forward, back toward the edge of the forest, and as they walked, everything around her faded away.

    Clarke woke with a sharp inhale, her heart pounding.

    The dream lingered, vivid and strange. But more than anything, one thought remained—her wolf had a name.

    Lexa.

    It sounded like a human name. Clarke furrowed her brows, wondering if it meant something. But she was ten, and dreams were just dreams. Maybe her mind made it up. Maybe it was just her imagination.

    Either way, it didn’t change the fact that Lexa would have to go back to the forest someday.

    But at least… she would visit sometimes. Or maybe Clarke could visit her.

---

    It was Sunday, and Clarke didn’t have school. The first thing she did when she woke up was call Raven.

    "Come over and play," Clarke had said, and Raven, as always, never needed convincing.

    Outside, Clarke watched Wolfie—no, Lexa—playing chase with Ben, their old herding dog. Or maybe it wasn’t just play. Maybe Ben was actually teaching her how to keep the animals in place. Clarke didn’t know, but it was cute.

    By the time Raven arrived, Lexa had managed to corner a few stubborn sheep back toward their pen, her movements careful but precise.

    Raven crossed her arms, amused. "Wolfie knows how to have fun?"

    Clarke giggled. "Looks like it."

    Then, she called out to the wolf, grinning.

    "Lexa! Your favorite breakfast is here!"

    Raven, who always brought bacon for the wolf, smirked as she pulled a pack out of her backpack.

    Abby had already warned them not to give her too much of it—wolves needed fresh meat, real meat—but a little treat every now and then never hurt.

---
Lexa’s POV

    Ben was a good teacher.

    He had been showing Lexa how to keep the strange, fluffy creatures in their spots, how to guide them back to their ‘house’ before nightfall. She wasn’t sure why she liked it—maybe because it made sense. Order. Control. It was satisfying.

    It had been a month now since she was injured. She had regained her strength, grown bigger. Maybe too much bigger.

    Perhaps she had indulged too much in bacon.

    And then—

    "Leksa! Your favorite breakfast is here!"

    Her ears perked.

    Reivon.

    Reivon always brought bacon.

    But—

    Did Klark just call her name?

    She tilted her head, confused. How did Klark know?

    She would think about it later. Right now… bacon.

---
Clarke’s POV

    Clarke watched as Lexa froze, ears flicking up in surprise.

    Did she understand?

    The wolf hesitated for a moment, her head tilting as if trying to process something. But then, just as quickly, she shook it off.

    And then, she ran.

    Lexa bounded toward them, her paws kicking up small clouds of dust, eyes locked onto Raven’s backpack. Within seconds, she launched herself at Raven, who barely managed to brace herself before bursting into laughter.

    "Alright, alright, calm down, girl," Raven said, reaching into her bag and pulling out the bacon.

    Clarke grinned, watching as Lexa tore into the treat with excitement.

    "Good girl, Wolfie," Raven chuckled, scratching behind her ears.

    Clarke leaned in, brushing her hand over Lexa’s fur. "I think her name is Lexa," she said, voice soft but certain. "It suits her, right, Rae?"

    Raven smirked. "I like it. But I’ll call her Lexy, then."

    Lexa lifted her head, giving Raven a look, then let out a playful growl.

    Clarke and Raven both burst into laughter.

---

    The second month had arrived, and Abby was giving the wolf—Lexa, according to Clarke—a final checkup to see if she was strong enough to return to the forest. Clarke knelt beside the wolf, her fingers combing through thick, dark fur as she murmured reassurances. Lexa didn’t seem to mind, merely letting out a slow huff as Abby examined her.

    “You’re really attached to her, huh?” Abby chuckled, watching as her ten-year-old daughter doted on the animal.

    “She’s family now,” Clarke insisted, scratching behind Lexa’s ear, the way she knew the wolf liked. Lexa pressed into the touch, her tail giving a slow, contented wag.

    Abby smirked. “Why’d you name her Lexa?”

    Clarke’s hand stilled for a moment. She looked up at her mother, brows furrowing. “I had a dream,” she admitted. “A pretty woman told me the wolf’s name was Lexa. And Mom, no, I’m not making things up. I’m ten, I know the difference!” Clarke groaned when Abby merely hummed, clearly amused.

    But Abby wasn’t laughing at her. No—Abby believed her.

    Because once, long ago, when Abby was Clarke’s age, she had the same dream. A woman in the forest, thanking her for saving a wolf. She had brushed it off as childhood imagination, but it was one of the reasons why she became a veterinarian in the first place. Now, looking at Clarke and the wolf curled up beside her, Abby wasn’t so sure it had been a simple dream after all.

    Clarke pouted at her mother’s silence. “Mom! I’m serious.”

    “I believe you, sweetheart,” Abby said softly, running her hand through Clarke’s hair before standing. “Let’s get her ready.”

---

    The Griffins and Reivon accompanied Leksa to the other edge of the forest, where the trees thickened and the path back to her home was easier to follow.

    Leksa sat in the back of the truck with Klark, who clung to her like she never wanted to let go. And maybe… maybe Leksa felt the same.

    Klark had called her by name. She understood now that it was no coincidence. Maybe it had been her mother, or Gaia herself, whispering her name into Klark’s dreams. Maybe it was fate. Maybe humans and wolves were never meant to be separate after all.

    Leksa knew only one thing for certain—this human, this girl with bright blue eyes and a laugh like sunlight filtering through leaves, was important. She was hers to protect.

    The truck stopped. Leksa let out a slow exhale, pushing away the ache in her chest as she jumped down onto the dirt road. Her paws sank into the cool earth, and the scent of the forest filled her senses. This was home. But so was Klark.

    Klark sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, kneeling to wrap her arms around Leksa’s neck. “But you have to, don’t you?”

    Leksa gave a soft bark, pressing her nose against Klark’s cheek. I will come see you sometimes, Klark. Don’t be sad.

    Klark let out a watery laugh. “I’ll miss you. Be safe out there, okay? And don’t eat spoiled meat, you’ll get sick. And don’t forget to visit me.”

    Leksa whined softly, nuzzling into Klark’s arms, memorizing her warmth.

    Reivon joined them, crouching beside Klark. The other little human was never the soft type. She was proud, like wolves, too stubborn to cry even if her eyes looked a little glassy.

    “Be safe, Leksi,” Reivon muttered, reaching out to scratch her behind the ears. “I’ll have bacon ready for you when you visit, ‘kay?”

    Leksa huffed in amusement. Always thinking about food, huh, Reivon? The little human was stubborn, like Anya—her sister. A pang of grief ran through her. Anya was gone now, with Gaia, along with the rest of her pack. Leksa swallowed down the ache. She had to be strong.

    After a long, heartfelt goodbye, Abi crouched in front of her, meeting Leksa’s eyes.

    “Stay out of trouble, little wolf,” Abi murmured, scratching gently behind her ears. “Clarke will be sad if you don’t come visit.”

    Leksa blinked, tilting her head. Humans were strange creatures, but she knew Abi meant well. She huffed in response, acknowledging the words.

    Jeik grinned, ruffling her fur roughly. “Show ‘em who’s boss out there, wolfie!”

    Leksa gave a short snort, shaking out her coat. Then she turned, facing the forest, the place that had called her home from the moment she had been born.

    Time to go home.

    She paused one last time, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes met Klark’s, the girl’s blue gaze shimmering with unshed tears.

    “Thank you, little Klark,” Leksa thought, hoping her human could somehow hear her. “May we meet again.”

    With one last bark—a promise—Leksa turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows of the trees, her heart relieved yet heavy all the same.

Chapter Text

    It had only been two weeks since Clarke had said goodbye to Lexa near the forest, and she already missed the wolf more than she thought possible.

    Every morning, she ran to the fence, hoping to see that familiar silhouette trotting toward her. Every night, she stared out her window, wondering if Lexa was out there, watching.

    But she knew it was too soon.

    Lexa had her home, her own world. Clarke had to trust that she was safe, even if it hurt not knowing.

    She tried to distract herself. School kept her busy, and afternoons at the ranch with Raven helped. Sometimes they assisted Abby with sick animals, and Clarke found comfort in their care. But the ache in her chest never really faded.

    And then, on the night of her eleventh birthday, everything changed.

    A rustling sound woke her.

    Clarke blinked in the darkness, listening. The wind? A branch tapping against the window?

    Then she heard it—soft, familiar. A low whine.

    Clarke’s heart leapt.

    She scrambled out of bed, rushing to the window, and there—standing in the moonlight—was Lexa.

    Her breath hitched.

    Lexa was bigger now, her fur a little thicker, her green eyes bright in the dim glow. And in her snout, dripping with golden sweetness, was a honeycomb.

    The ten year old—just turned eleven—let out a startled squeal of joy and sprinted for the door, not caring that her feet were bare against the cold ground. She barely noticed Jake stepping out behind her, bleary-eyed from sleep.

    She dropped to her knees in the grass, throwing her arms around Lexa’s neck. The wolf let out a soft huff, pressing her nose into Clarke’s shoulder, tail wagging.

    “You remembered,” Clarke whispered, eyes stinging with tears. “You remembered I love honey.”

    The wolf grumbled something in response, and Clarke giggled as she pulled back, finally taking in the mess that was Lexa’s fur.

    Sticky honey clung to her muzzle, dripping down her chest. Bits of leaves and dirt were stuck to her coat, and Clarke had never seen a more ridiculous sight.

    Jake, now fully awake, let out a loud laugh. “Well, looks like you got yourself into some trouble, huh, wolfie?”

    Lexa only looked proud.

    Clarke sniffled, smiling through her tears. “Did you really come all this way just to bring me honey?”

    Lexa blinked at her, and Clarke swore she saw something knowing in those eyes.

    Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it wasn’t.

    But Lexa had kept her promise.

    And that was all that mattered.

---
     Lexa’s POV

    The forest had been too quiet without her.

    Lexa had spent six moons roaming the land, finding familiar paths, hunting beneath silver skies. She had found the old dens, but they were empty. The trees whispered her name, but she did not answer.

    Because something had changed.

    Because she had changed.

    She was still wild, still a creature of the forest. But the warmth of a child’s hands, the sound of her laughter—those things had settled deep within Lexa’s bones, refusing to be forgotten.

    She had watched from the shadows, lingering at the edges of the ranch when the wind carried Clarke’s scent.

    And then, as the stars blinked awake, the memory came to her—honey. The girl had loved honey. She had once licked the golden syrup from her fingers, giggling as Lexa licked her own nose clean after stealing a taste.

    So Lexa had searched.

    She had clawed into a hollow tree, braving the stinging bees, ignoring the sharp bite of their anger.

    And now, here she was.

    Sticky, covered in leaves, standing before her girl.

    Clarke’s arms were around her, warm and real, her voice thick with emotion. Lexa breathed her in, pressing close, letting herself melt into the touch she had missed.

    She did not speak human words, but her actions had always been louder than sound.

    She had remembered.

    She had returned.

    And Clarke still wanted her here.

    A low, satisfied rumble left her chest as she nuzzled into Clarke’s warmth.

    For the first time in six moons, Lexa felt like she was home.
---

    Lexa stayed through the night.

    She hadn’t meant to, but Clarke had curled into her warmth on the front porch, small arms wrapped around her, breath slow and steady in sleep. The girl had refused to let go, even as Jake draped a blanket over her tiny frame.

    Lexa had stayed still, watching the stars fade into the deep indigo of early morning, listening to the quiet hum of the world waking up.

    And for the first time in moons, she felt at peace.

    Dawn arrived too quickly.

    Clarke stirred against her fur, yawning as golden light kissed the ranch. Lexa nudged her gently, and Clarke grumbled sleepily, tightening her hold for just a moment longer.

    But morning meant goodbye.

    And Leksa had always known this wasn’t forever.

    She waited as Clarke got ready for school, her tail wagging slightly when the front gate burst open and a bicycle skidded to a stop.

    “Leksi!”

    Raven grinned wildly, jumping off her bike before it even stopped moving. “You came back! Good thing I brought bacon!”

    Leksa huffed as Raven all but tackled her, squeezing her in a tight hug. The girl still insisted on calling her Leksi, despite Leksa’s clear preference otherwise.

    Clarke finally emerged, backpack slung over one shoulder, her face solemn. She hesitated for a moment before rushing to Lexa, arms wrapping around her once more.

    “I don’t want to leave,” Clarke mumbled into her fur.

    Lexa whined softly, pressing her nose to Clarke’s cheek in quiet reassurance.

    She had to leave too.

    There was still work to be done—finding a new den, a place that didn’t echo with memories of the pack she had lost.

    The forest was vast, but loneliness was no longer a comfort.

    Not after Clarke.

--

    She knew Lexa would be gone by the time she got home.

    She had always known.

    Still, she lingered, one hand buried in the thick fur of her best friend, trying to memorize the feeling.

    “See you around, Lexa.” Clarke pressed a quick kiss to the wolf’s nose, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “Love you.”

    Lexa let out a soft bark in response, her head tilting slightly as if she understood.

    Then Clarke pulled away, hopping onto her bike beside Raven, who had finished stuffing her last strip of crispy bacon into her mouth.

    They pedaled off toward the school, Clarke glancing back one last time.

    Lexa was still there, watching.

    Then, just as the road curved, she turned and disappeared into the trees.

    The forest welcomed her back, but it was not the same.

    Her paws carried her swiftly through the undergrowth, her heart still warm from Clarke’s touch.

    She had done what she came to do.

    She had reminded her girl that she was never truly alone.

    But now, she had to find a place of her own.

    For months, she roamed alone.

    She hunted, she explored, she survived.

    And yet, when the leaves turned golden and the winds whispered of colder days ahead, her paws carried her back to the ranch.

    She had something else to bring this time.

    The hare was fat and fresh, the best she could find. She left it by the kitchen door, sitting just beyond the light, waiting.

    The door creaked open.

    Abby gasped softly in surprise.

    Then—

    “Lexa!”

    Clarke’s voice rang out, and before Lexa could move, the girl was running, bare feet against the cold wooden porch, arms tight around her neck.

    She smelled of home.

    Lexa nuzzled against her, closing her eyes for just a moment.

    And then, as always, she left.

    It became a rhythm, a pattern woven through the years.

    Through storms and seasons, Lexa would return, each visit marked by a gift—fresh game, a bundle of herbs, a soft-furred pelt left in the barn.

    And each time, Clarke would greet her with that same bright smile, the same unshaken devotion.

    Until Clarke was no longer a child.

    Until Lexa was no longer a young wolf.

    Until the bond between them stretched across time, unbreakable as the roots beneath the earth.

    Until the day came when Lexa no longer ran back to the forest alone.

---

    Clarke was seventeen now.

    Gone was the wide-eyed child who once clung to a wolf on her front porch. In her place stood a young woman, golden hair catching the sunlight, hands smudged with charcoal and ink.

    She spent hours at the edge of the forest, sketchbook balanced on her knees, capturing the wild beauty around her—the trees, the river, the animals.

    Lexa.

    The wolf had grown, too. No longer just a lone survivor, but something more—stronger, larger, more majestic than any creature Clarke had ever seen. Her dark coat gleamed in the dappled light, and those green eyes... Clarke had never seen another like them.

    She still found herself surprised sometimes, the way Lexa seemed to understand her without words.

    As if they were more than just a girl and a wolf.

    As if they were something bound by fate itself.

    Lexa moved silently through the undergrowth, watching from the shadows as Clarke sat beneath a large oak, lost in her art.

    She had watched Clarke grow—watched her become this.

    Beautiful. Strong. Steady.

    Still, she came bearing gifts.

    This time, it was different wildflowers—violets and lilies, their colors vibrant against the green. And, of course, honeycomb, fresh and golden, dripping with sweetness.

    She stepped into the clearing, her paws light against the earth.

    Clarke looked up, and the smile that spread across her face made something warm bloom in Lexa’s chest.

    “Hey, sweet girl,” Clarke cooed, reaching out instinctively. Then she spotted the honeycomb and laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You stole the bees’ honey again?”

    Lexa simply sat, watching as Clarke plucked the sticky treat from her snout, transferring it carefully into the empty container she always carried.

    The soft touch of fingers ran through her thick coat, and Lexa closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth.

    She could stay like this.

    Just for a little while.

    But not today.

    A bark escaped her throat as she pulled away, shaking her fur before trotting toward the trees. She stopped just at the edge, glancing back when Clarke didn’t follow.

    The young woman tilted her head. “You want me to go with you?”

    Lexa only stared, tail twitching once.

    Clarke huffed, a smirk tugging at her lips as she closed her sketchbook. “Alright, lead the way, Commander Lexa de Wolfie.”

    Lexa huffed at the ridiculous name but turned, leading Clarke deeper into the forest.

    She would show her.

    Show her where the wild things lived.

    Show her where she belonged.

    With her.

---

    Clarke followed Lexa deeper into the forest, her fingers brushing through the wolf’s thick coat as they walked side by side.

    She had always loved the woods, but today—seeing them through Lexa’s eyes—she felt something different. Something almost sacred.

    “This is beautiful, Lexa.” Clarke’s voice was soft, full of wonder.

    She glanced down at the wolf beside her. “Are you showing me where you stay? Do you have a new pack?”

    The moment the words left her mouth, Clarke felt a little silly. Talking to Lexa like she could answer.

    But when she looked again, the wolf’s green eyes had narrowed, her ears twitching slightly, as if offended by the notion of a new pack.

    Clarke laughed, shaking her head. “Guess that’s a no, huh?”

    Lexa had never brought other wolves around. Clarke’s mom had asked her to pay attention, curious whether Lexa would remain a lone wolf or introduce a new pack.

    But if Lexa did have a pack… Clarke had a feeling she would have been the first to know.
---

    The clearing was just ahead.

    Lexa had found it months ago, marked its borders, made sure it was safe. It was one of the few places she knew Clarke would love—warm, open, peaceful. A place filled with wildflowers, where the sunlight spilled freely through the trees.

    As they stepped into the clearing, Clarke gasped, turning in slow circles.

    Lexa’s tail flicked, pleased.

    “This is perfect,” Clarke murmured, mostly to herself, already pulling out her sketchbook. Then she paused, eyes flicking to Lexa.

    “Do you mind if I show this place to Raven? And our new friend, Octavia?” Clarke hesitated, tilting her head. “Maybe it could be our camping spot?”

    Leksa considered it, gaze sweeping the area. It was safe. Not too far from the ranch. And her den wasn’t too far, either.

    She let out a soft bark, nodding her head.

    Clarke beamed, her entire face lighting up.

    Leksa watched her, warmth spreading in her chest.

    Her girl had grown so much.

    She had prepared herself for Clarke to drift away—to be busy with life, with school, with things beyond the forest. That was the way of humans. They built their futures while wolves simply existed.

    Leksa would wait.

    Wait until the day her legs could no longer carry her.

    She had already lived far longer than most wolves. Her body was larger, her fur darker, her bones aching more often than they used to. If she didn’t rest after a hunt, she would feel it in the morning.

    Still, she had today.

    So she spent it beside Clarke, listening as the girl spoke about school, her friends, her dreams. Clarke had always been wise, but now there was a quiet confidence in her voice.

    Lexa was proud.

    The sun had dipped low when Lexa walked her home, her presence a familiar comfort beside Clarke’s bike.

    As they neared the ranch, the warm glow of the house lights flickered in the distance.

    Clarke slowed, glancing down at Lexa.

    She hesitated. Then, softly, “I’ll be leaving in three months.”

    Lexa stilled.

    Clarke swallowed, looking up at the sky. “For college.”

    The words felt strange on her tongue. She wanted to go—had worked hard for it—but standing here, beside Lexa, a deep ache settled in her chest.

    Lexa let out a soft, low rumble, something close to a sigh.

    Clarke smiled, nudging her gently. “You’re proud of me, right, sweet girl?”

    Lexa huffed, nudging her back.

    Clarke chuckled, a little watery.

    They stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them like something unspoken, something sacred.

    Then, with one last look, Clarke turned toward the house.

    That night, as Clarke disappeared inside, Lexa lingered only a moment before turning toward the forest.

    She would not see her girl again for a while.

    Clarke had so much to do before she left. So many things to prepare.

    But she had promised—promised to return, with Raven and Octavia, to camp beneath the stars in the clearing Lexa had shown her.

    And Lexa would be waiting.

    As she always had.

    As she always would.

---

Chapter Text

    Leksa had been feeling weaker, had not visit the ranch in a while.

    But today was different.

    Today, Clarke was leaving.

    So Leksa came, despite the stiffness in her joints.

    She waited near the porch, watching as Clarke hugged her parents one last time, her bags already packed in the truck.

    Then Clarke turned, and the moment her eyes landed on Leksa’s massive form, she gasped—then ran.

    Leksa braced herself as Clarke all but crashed into her, wrapping her arms around her thick neck, burying her face in her fur.

    She rumbled softly.

    "Do us proud, my brave, sweet girl."

    Clarke let out a shaky laugh, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You came,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion.

    Leksa nuzzled her gently in response. Of course she did.

    A new voice interrupted them.

    “Your wolf is huge, Clarke.”

    Leksa turned her sharp green eyes toward the speaker—a girl she had never seen before.

    The newcomer smirked, hands on her hips. “Looks like royalty too.”

    Leksa considered her for a moment. She didn’t cower, didn’t flinch under her gaze.

    She approved.

    Clarke would be safe with this one.

    Raven stepped forward then, grinning. “No worries, Lexy. Clarkey will be okay. She’s got us, and we’ll be back before you know it.”

    Leksa sighed, exhaling deeply as Raven hugged her.

    She trusted Raven.

    She always had.

    But still, when Clarke finally pulled away, climbing into the truck with her friends, Leksa couldn't stop the whine that escaped her throat.

    Clarke looked back one last time, her blue eyes meeting Lexa’s.

    Then she was gone.

    Leksa stood motionless as the truck disappeared down the road, her heart heavy.

    Beside her, Abby and Jake sniffled, their arms wrapped around each other.

    Abby reached down, running a hand through Lexa’s fur.

    “Thanks for coming, Lexa,” she murmured, voice filled with gratitude.

    Jake nodded, wiping at his eyes.

    Leksa let them hug her.

    Then, with one last glance at the empty road, she turned and padded back into the forest.

    That night, she curled up in her den, the scent of wildflowers still clinging to her fur.

    She had never felt lonelier.

---

    A whole year.

    It had been a whole year since she’d left for college.

    She and Raven had barely survived their finals, and Octavia had somehow convinced them both that coming home to Arkadia for the holidays was exactly what they needed.

    Clarke didn’t argue. She missed home. She missed her parents.

    But most of all, she missed her.

    Her mom had sent her pictures throughout the year—of Lexa lounging on their porch, sitting beside Ben, their old dog. Of Lexa circling the fences like a silent guardian, always around when wild dogs started appearing with the changing seasons.

    Their ranch had never had trouble with wild animals—not when Lexa was there.

    Then one day, her mom called, her voice softer than usual.

    "Lexa came to the clinic today."

    Clarke had frozen at her desk, her sketchbook forgotten.

    "She was sick."

    Her heart had clenched painfully.

    "It’s okay, sweetheart," Abby had reassured her. "Just some natural sickness. She’s older now, Clarke. It happens."

    Clarke had tried to act fine after that. But a weight settled in her chest, and it stayed there.

    Until today.

    She was home.

    And somehow—like she always did—Lexa knew.

    There, just outside the gate, stood the massive black wolf, wildflowers clutched gently in her snout.

    Clarke barely stopped herself from sobbing as she ran forward.

    “Missed you, Commander Lexa de Wolfie,” she choked out, throwing her arms around the thick fur.

    Lexa barked, her tail thumping hard against the ground.

    Clarke laughed through her tears, taking the flowers and pressing a soft kiss to the wolf’s cold nose.

    Octavia’s amused voice cut through the moment.

    “That’s one hell of a girlfriend if she were human.”

    Clarke turned to glare at her, but Octavia only smirked.

    Lexa, meanwhile, exhaled heavily through her nose, like she understood the joke.

    Octavia tilted her head. “Can I touch your coat? It looks fluffy.”

    Lexa blinked once, then dipped her head ever so slightly.

    Octavia gasped, turning wide eyes to Clarke. “Did she just nod?”

    Raven cackled and slapped her arm. “Lexy is smarter than half the people at our school. Except me, of course. I’m a genius.”

    Lexa huffed.

    Raven grinned and tossed her a strip of bacon she had stashed from breakfast. The wolf caught it easily, swallowing it whole.

    “See?” Raven smirked. “Perfect taste in food.”

    Clarke smiled, warmth settling in her chest.

    That night, she told Lexa their plans.

    “We’re going camping in the forest. You coming?”

    Lexa’s ears twitched.

    Then she turned, already walking toward the trees.

    Clarke laughed. “Okay, okay, Commander, we’re coming!”

--

    She felt it.

    She felt it in her bones—Clarke was coming home.

    So she ran.

    Despite the ache in her joints, she ran to the ranch, carrying flowers in her mouth.

    And then Clarke was there.

    Leksa barely got her breathing under control before Clarke crashed into her, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

    That night, Clarke and her friends camped in the forest.

    Leksa let Clarke rest against her thick fur as they sat around the fire, the girls laughing and sharing stories about their year.

    “Lex,” Clarke murmured sleepily, running her fingers through Lexa’s coat, “you’re so lucky. You get to see this view every night.”

    She sighed, looking up at the stars.

    “It’s beautiful. Thank you for letting us be here.”

    Leksa rumbled deep in her chest, pleased.

    She had chosen this spot for Clarke.

    The girl had grown so much. And though she had a new life now, new adventures, she still came back. She still chose Leksa too.

    Leksa curled around them protectively as they fell asleep, keeping watch like she always had.

---
    By dawn, she had slipped away to hunt.

    Clarke needed food. She deserved fresh meat.

    She caught three fat hares and carried them back to the camp.

    Octavia, to Leksa’s surprise, practically jumped with excitement.

    She took one immediately, humming as she expertly cleaned it.

    “Damn,” Raven chuckled, watching her. “That girl really knows how to live in the woods.”

    By the time the meat was cleaned and roasting over the fire, Lexa had gathered dry wood and branches, helping build the campfire.

    They shared the meal together, giving Leksa the biggest portion as thanks.

    And for the first time in years, Leksa felt something settle deep in her chest.

    It wasn’t just Clarke anymore.

    She had a pack again.

    They were human, not wolves. But that didn’t matter.

    They were hers to protect.

---

    The moons passed, and her body weakened.

    She had once run with the wind, swift and sure, her paws barely touching the earth. Now, even walking took effort.

    But her soul—her soul remained strong.

    Because her pack still needed her.

    Because Clarke still needed her.

    Clarke hadn’t come home last year, nor this year. And though Leksa understood, it didn’t stop the ache in her chest.

    She had visited the ranch a few times, searching for traces of Clarke’s scent, for something familiar to hold on to.

    She also needed Abby’s help.

    Tonight, she lay in the clinic, her breath heavy, chest rising and falling with effort.

    Abby sat beside her, running a gentle hand over her fur.

    "I'm amazed you’re still able to walk here, sweet old girl," Abby murmured. "Are you waiting for Clarke?"

    Leksa huffed softly.

    Abby smiled. "She’s graduating soon. She’ll be home soon."

    Something in Leksa stirred.

    Clarke is coming home.

    Her heart, weary and worn, felt lighter.

    She just had to hold on a little longer.

---

    Clarke had never worked harder in her life.

    She had poured herself into her studies, pushing through extra classes, staying a step ahead just to finish sooner.

    Because she knew.

    She knew her time with Lexa was running out.

    Her mom had told her weeks ago that Lexa had come to the clinic again. This time, it wasn’t from running too hard or a minor injury.

    Her breath had been labored.

    Age was catching up to her.

    So Clarke had pushed.

    And finally, it had paid off.

    In just one more month, after New Year’s, she would graduate. And a few days after that, she would turn twenty.

    And she wanted to spend it at home. With her family.

    With Lexa.

---

    She felt it again.

    After moons of emptiness, she felt it.

    Clarke was coming home.

    Leksa forced her body forward, step by step, across the familiar path she had run a thousand times before.

    This time, she did not run. She couldn’t run.

    But she walked.

    And when she reached the ranch—when she lifted her weary eyes—Clarke was there.

    She was taller. Prettier. Stronger.

    Leksa’s heart swelled with something deeper than instinct, something more powerful than the pain in her bones.

    She found the strength to run the rest of the way.

    Clarke dropped to her knees, arms wide open.

    "Hey, Commander de Wolfie," Clarke whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Missed me?"

    Leksa barked, her tail thumping against the ground.

    "My girl," she thought. "I have missed you."

    Clarke chuckled, pressing her face into Lexa’s thick fur.

    "Raven’s inside. She missed you too," she murmured.

    Leksa huffed. She had missed that brave girl as well.

---

    That night, the warmth of home settled around Leksa like a blanket.

    Clarke led her inside, into the living room where Raven was waiting.

    The moment she stepped in, Raven practically launched herself onto Leksa’s tall frame.

    “Gosh, you got bigger—and fluffier,” Raven declared, grinning.

    Leksa huffed, nudging her stomach in amused retaliation.

    Laughter rang through the house.

    For the first time in months, Leksa felt good.

    Stronger.

    Like she still had a place in this world.

    Like she still had time.

    And for tonight, at least, she let herself believe it.

---

    It had been months since she came home.

    She had celebrated her 20th birthday surrounded by family, laughter, and warmth. Lexa had come, as she always did, bringing flowers and honeycombs—her quiet way of saying I am still here.

    But then… she wasn’t.

    Almost half a year had passed, and Clarke hadn’t seen Lexa in two months.

    She had gone to their clearing, the place where Lexa always waited. She had stayed until nightfall, listening, watching, waiting—

    But Lexa never came.

    Clarke’s stomach had been in knots ever since.

    So she made a decision. She wasn’t waiting anymore.

    Tonight, she would go looking.

    She packed her bag with supplies—emergency kits, extra blankets, food, just in case. Raven and Octavia wouldn’t let her go alone, so now they were all hiking through the forest together, flashlights cutting through the growing darkness.

    “Lexa’s smart,” Octavia murmured as they walked. “If she’s hurt, she’s probably holed up somewhere safe.”

    “Yeah,” Raven added, though her voice wasn’t as sure. “She’s stubborn as hell. Maybe she just—needed some space?”

    Clarke didn’t answer.

    She felt it, deep in her bones. This wasn’t just space.

    Lexa was in trouble.

    And she had to find her.

---

    They reached the clearing just before midnight.

    The moon was high, casting silver light over the familiar space. The fire pit was still there, the logs where they used to sit, the place where Clarke had spent countless nights with her oldest, most loyal friend.

    But no sign of Lexa.

    The wind shifted.

    And then Clarke felt it—

    A whisper of something in the air. A presence. A call.

    Then—

    A growl.

    Low. Menacing.

    Raven’s flashlight swung to the side. Yellow eyes glowed in the dark.

    One pair. Then two. Then more.

    Wild dogs.

    They emerged from the shadows—lean, hungry, feral. Too many. More than Clarke had ever seen before.

    Then they charged.

    Raven swore, reaching for the knife at her belt. Octavia grabbed a burning branch from the fire, swinging it wildly.

    Clarke barely had time to react before one of them lunged—

    Pain exploded in her arm as sharp teeth sank into her flesh.

    She screamed, stumbling back. Blood. So much blood.

    The world blurred, and she hit the ground hard.

    The dogs circled.

    Too fast. Too many.

    Raven was shouting. Octavia was swinging the torch. Clarke’s vision swam, her arm throbbing.

    Then—

    A snarl.

    Not from the dogs.

    Something bigger.

    A shadow barreled into the pack, sending bodies flying.

    A wolf.

    Lexa.

    She moved like a storm—aging body forgotten, driven by pure rage. Her jaws snapped, tearing through fur and flesh. A dog yelped, thrown to the side like a rag doll. Another lunged, only for Lexa to meet it midair, her fangs locking onto its throat.

    She was a force of nature.

    But there were too many.

    One after another, the dogs turned on her, snarling, snapping, circling.

    Clarke struggled to sit up, her head spinning.

    “Lexa!” she cried, voice raw.

    Lexa’s ears flicked toward her, just for a second—

    And that second cost her.

    A dog lunged at her side. Another snapped at her hind leg.

    She staggered.

    But she did not fall.

    Instead, with a roar of fury, she pushed forward, teeth flashing.

    She ripped through them, her body nothing but raw power and defiance.

    One by one, they fell.
    
    Until only one remained.

    It hesitated.

    Lexa snarled, blood dripping from her fangs. And the dog fled.

    Silence fell over the clearing.

    Lexa stood in the center, victorious.

    But barely.

    She turned toward Clarke, breath heavy, legs shaking.

    Clarke’s heart clenched.

    Lexa had won.

    But at a cost.
    
    Blood pooled beneath her. Wounds too deep. Too many.

    And Clarke knew with an aching heart.

    This was it.

---

    Clarke crawled to her side, hands shaking as she reached for the thick, matted fur.

    “Oh, Lexa,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I missed you, I'm so sorry.”

    Lexa’s body was warm. But barely.

    She opened her eyes—tired, clouded, but still hers.

    A soft whine left her throat as she pressed her nose against Clarke’s cheek.

    Clarke let out a sob, burying her face into Lexa’s fur.

    “You idiot,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Why did you do that? You should have run.”

    Lexa’s breath was slow. Her body heavy.

    She had spent her whole life protecting Clarke. She had held on for as long as she could.

    But now, her time had come.

    Clarke pressed her forehead to Lexa’s, hot tears slipping down her face.

    “No, no, no,” she begged. “Lexa, stay with me, please.”

    Lexa blinked slowly.

    She wanted to stay. She did.

    But Clarke was safe now.

    That was all that mattered.

    She gave a soft, tired woof, her tongue flicking out to lap at Clarke’s cheek one last time.

    Don't cry, my sweet girl. I'm fine.
 
   Clarke sobbed.

    “I love you, you stupid, stubborn wolf,” she whispered.

    Lexa let out a final breath, slow and peaceful. Her head rested against Clarke’s lap.

    The forest was silent.

    And then, she was gone.

---

    The world felt wrong.

    Like the air had shifted, like something ancient had ended.

    Clarke’s hands trembled as she ran them through Lexa’s fur, as if holding her could keep her here.

    Raven and Octavia knelt beside her, silent in their grief.

    “She came for you,” Octavia murmured.

    Clarke nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “She always did.”

    And maybe—just maybe—she always would.

    Because as Clarke sat there, cradling the body of the wolf who had loved her more than life itself, she felt something deep inside her soul.

    A whisper.

    A promise.

    This is not the end.

    In her final moments, as the cold crept into her bones and her breath grew shallow, Leksa’s last thought was not of herself but of Clarke. Her girl. Her purpose.

    Please, she whispered into the void, into the unknown. Gaia, protect her.

    Then, silence.

    But death was not the end.

    A warmth spread through her, like sunlight breaking through dense canopy. The pain was gone. The heaviness lifted. Leksa opened her eyes—and the Great Forest stretched endlessly before her, its ancient trees bathed in golden light. The wind carried the scent of pine and fresh rain, but something was… different.

    She looked down at herself. Gone were her paws, her thick coat of fur. In their place—hands. Fingers curled into the damp earth, trembling. Arms. Legs. A human body.

    Leksa gasped, heart hammering. This wasn’t possible. How was she—?

    A voice, soft and warm like an embrace, cut through her thoughts.

    "You held on for so long, my brave, sweet baby."

    Leksa’s breath hitched. That voice—she knew that voice.

    She turned, and there she stood.

    Her mother.

    Leksa ran, feet unsteady but heart sure, and threw herself into her mother’s arms. The embrace was strong, grounding, filled with the scent of home, of love long lost.

    "I missed you, Mum," Leksa sobbed, clinging to her as though she might disappear.

    A chuckle, rough and familiar.

    "Yo, pup. What, no love for me?"

    Leksa’s head whipped around, and there, leaning against a tree with her arms crossed and that ever-present smirk, was Anya.

    Leksa choked on a laugh and launched herself at her sister, nearly knocking them both over. Anya caught her easily, ruffling her hair.

    "Still a little brat, huh? Even after living to be an old girl?" Anya teased.

    Leksa rolled her eyes but held on tighter, unwilling to let go. She had dreamed of this. Longed for it in the quiet moments when the nights were too lonely, when the memories of her lost family ached like an old wound.

    Then, a shift in the air.

    A presence, ancient and powerful, yet gentle like a lullaby sung to a restless pup.

    They turned as a massive white wolf stepped forward, her fur gleaming like the moonlight on untouched snow. Her golden eyes held galaxies within them, endless and knowing.

    "Gaia," Becca and Anya greeted her with reverence, bowing their heads.

    Leksa followed suit, her heart thrumming in her chest.

    Gaia’s voice was a melody of the wind through leaves, of rivers carving paths through stone.

    "My children, you have fought bravely. You have given your lives for others, for love, for honor."

    She turned first to Becca.

    "You shielded your pups, your pack, from the bear, knowing it would cost you everything."

    Then to Anya.

    "You lured the beast away, sacrificing yourself to give your younger sister a chance to survive."

    And finally, to Leksa.

    "And you, Leksa… You lived earnestly. You defied the laws of nature to walk beside humans, to love them as fiercely as you would your own pack. Even in death, your only wish was not for yourself, but for her."

    Leksa swallowed hard, warmth rising to her cheeks as Anya shot her a knowing smirk.

    "You loved her, didn’t you?" her sister asked, voice softer now.

    Leksa exhaled, tilting her head.

    "Clarke," Anya pressed. "You loved her."

    Leksa let the truth settle into her bones, let it fill the spaces between her ribs like air in lungs reborn.

    She smiled, small but sure.

    "I did," she admitted. "I still do."

    Gaia’s gaze softened.

    "Do you know why you are all still here?" she asked, her voice as gentle as the breeze. "Why you have not moved on to the spirit plane, though your loved ones have long since joined it?"

    The three of them exchanged glances, confusion flickering in their eyes.

    They shook their heads.

    Gaia chuckled, a sound like distant thunder, like the laughter of the earth itself.

    "Because you deserve a second life."

    The words hung in the air, weighty, immense.

    "As a reward for your loyalty, your courage, and the love you have carried so fiercely in your hearts."

    Leksa’s breath caught.

    "A second chance?" she echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

    Gaia nodded.

    "Spend it wisely. Do what you have always wanted. Live."

    Then, the world exploded in light.

    A force pulled her under, yet she did not struggle. It was warm, familiar, like falling into the embrace of something greater than herself.

    And then—cold. Damp earth. The scent of moss and rain.

    Leksa’s eyes flew open.

    The sky above her was no longer golden but deep blue, the first hints of dawn peeking through the canopy. The forest was alive with sound—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the wind.

    But something was different.

    She sat up, her breath hitching as she stared down at her hands.

    Hands.

    Not paws.

    Flesh, not fur.

    She scrambled up, legs shaky, heart pounding wildly.

    A gasp.

    Leksa spun, and there—just a few feet away—stood her mother and Anya, human as well.

    Becca covered her mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. Anya flexed her fingers, then burst into laughter, half-delighted, half-disbelieving.

    And then, all at once, they crashed into each other, arms tangling in a desperate embrace, laughter and tears mixing in the early morning light.

    They were alive.

    They were human.

    And somewhere, out there in the world, Clarke was waiting.

Chapter Text

    The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves in a familiar melody, but it was not the same. Not without her wolf.

    It had been six months since Lexa had died saving them. Six months since Clarke had knelt in the dirt, cradling the lifeless body of the wolf who had been more than a guardian—more than a friend. She had buried her with shaking hands, whispered words of love and gratitude into the cold night air, and waited.

    Waited for the bark that never came.

    Waited for the heavy thump of paws against the earth, for the reassuring nudge of a wet nose against her palm.

    Waited for her.

    And still, she came to this place every night, sitting on the fallen tree where they had spent so many evenings together. The stars above had witnessed her grief, the forest had swallowed her sobs, and the earth beneath her feet had absorbed her silent pleas.

    She missed her so much it ached.

    And then—

    Rustling leaves.

    A snapped twig.

    A muffled curse.

    Clarke tensed. No one came this deep into the forest this late. Hand gripping the knife at her belt, she turned toward the noise—

    And froze.

    A woman stepped forward, emerging from the shadows like something out of a dream.

    Tall. Strong. Her dark brown hair was tousled, her sharp jawline kissed by moonlight, and her eyes—those eyes.

    Green, wise, gentle. Familiar in a way that made Clarke’s breath catch in her throat.

    The woman walked toward her with a strange, nervous energy, as if she wanted to run but forced herself to move slowly. Clarke’s pulse pounded. Her mind scrambled for an explanation, but her body—her soul—already knew.

    The woman stopped in front of her, hesitant but sure, and spoke.

    "Hello, Klark."

    Clarke’s world tilted.

    That voice.

    Low, steady, laced with warmth and something unbreakable.

    Who—?

    What—?

    Before she could even form a thought, another voice called out from behind the woman.

    "Damn it, Lexa! You're going to scare her! Great, she's too stunned to even speak."

    Another woman stepped into view, followed by an older one, both looking uncannily alike.

    Clarke barely registered them. Her mind was still stuck on one thing.

    Lexa.

    She had called her Lexa.

    But—Lexa was—

    "It's me," the woman said, voice thick with emotion. "Commander Lexa de Wolfie."

    A watery smile. Green eyes brimming with tears.

    Clarke’s heart skipped a beat.

    No, no, it couldn’t be.

    Lexa was gone.

    She had died in her arms.

    She had buried her with her own hands.

    But—

    The warmth in those familiar eyes.

    The scent that was brought by the wind.

    The same undeniable presence that had always wrapped around her like a protective shield.

    Her body moved before her mind caught up.

    Clarke surged forward, throwing herself into Lexa’s arms. The moment their bodies collided, the last six months of sorrow, of waiting, of aching loss crashed down on her.

    She sobbed into Lexa’s shoulder, gripping her like she might vanish again.

    Lexa’s arms wound around her just as tightly, her fingers threading through Clarke’s hair, grounding her, holding her together.

    Her scent, her warmth—it was all the same.

    Clarke gasped for breath between sobs. "I don't care if I’m losing my mind. I don’t care if this is a dream or if I’m dying—"

    A soft chuckle rumbled through Lexa’s chest.

    "Klark," she murmured, pressing her cheek against Clarke’s hair. "You're not crazy, you're not dreaming, and you’re certainly not dying."

    Clarke clung to her, afraid to let go.

    Lexa pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, her hands cradling Clarke’s face with infinite tenderness.

    "I'm real. I'm here. Gaia gave me and my family another chance to live." Her thumbs brushed away Clarke’s tears. "And all I wanted—more than anything—was to find you. To hold you. To keep you safe, my sweet girl."

    Clarke let out a choked laugh between sobs. "I said all of that out loud, didn’t I?"

    Lexa smiled, her own eyes wet with unshed tears. "You did."

    Clarke didn’t care.

    Didn’t care how or why Lexa was here.

    Didn’t care if it made no sense, if the world had broken its own rules.

    All that mattered was that Lexa—her Lexa—was home.

---

    Clarke led the three women back to her family’s house, her heart pounding with every step.

    She didn’t know how this was possible.

    Didn’t know how her Lexa—once a massive, noble wolf—had returned after six months, now in human form.

    But she wasn’t going to question it.

    Not yet.

    The how could wait.

    Because right now, all she cared about was that Lexa was here.

    Alive.

    Back with her.

    When they reached the house, the porch lights cast a warm glow on Jake and Abby, who stood at the door, worried expressions on their faces. Clarke had been out longer than usual, and they had been about to go looking for her.

    Raven had just arrived, having rushed over when Abby called, worried sick that Clarke hadn’t come home on time.

    Then Clarke dropped the biggest bombshell of the century.

    "Guys, this is Becca, Anya, and… Lexa."

    She gestured first to the older woman—Lexa’s mother, then to the sharp-eyed brunette—Lexa’s sister.

    And finally, to her.

    Lexa.

    Lexa, who had died protecting her.

    Lexa, who now stood beside her, human and very much alive.

    Jake, Abby, and Raven stared at her like she had finally lost her mind.

    Jake blinked. "Clarke… did you eat some wild mushrooms out there? Or strange berries? Because you’re making no sense."

    Jake rubbed his temples, "why would you call a complete stranger Lexa? That was your wolf. Your dead wolf. This isn’t funny."

    Meanwhile, Abby looked at Lexa, observing.

    Raven, however, was in full panic mode. "Oh no. No way am I losing my best friend to madness. Nope. Lexa de Wolfie would haunt me if she knew I let Clarke go crazy on my watch. Damn it, Clarke!"

    She ran both hands through her hair, pacing. "You—You must have hit your head, or—No, wait! Maybe this is a test! Yeah, Lexa’s ghost is testing me! Dammit, Wolfie, I’ll take care of her, okay? Just don’t haunt me!"

    But then—

    The woman in question, Lexa, chuckled.

    Low, warm, and unmistakably her.

    And Raven froze.

    Lexa smirked, looking directly at her. "Well, I am Lexa de Wolfie, Reivon. Clarke isn’t crazy."

    Silence.

    Raven’s jaw dropped.

    She slowly turned to Clarke, then to Lexa, then back to Clarke.

    Then she collapsed onto the couch, staring into the abyss. "So… all of you have lost your minds. That has to be it."

    She waved a hand. "Don’t mind me. I’m just going to sit here and process the actual madness happening this room."

    Clarke sighed, shaking her head. "I knew you were going to be dramatic about this."

    Raven pointed at her. "Dramatic?! Clarke, you just told me our dead wolf turned into a person. And you expect me to just nod and move on?"

    Lexa smirked again. "I’d expect nothing less from you, Reivon."

    Raven groaned. "Nope. Nope. I need a drink. And maybe an exorcism."

    Jake and Abby still looked stunned, but Clarke turned back to Lexa, heart swelling.

    Because no matter how impossible this was—

    No matter how much her family needed time to accept it—

    Lexa was here.

    Real.

    And Clarke wasn’t going to let her go.
---
    Lexa hadn’t realized she had been dead for six months.

    That her newfound family—her pack—had mourned her.

    That Clarke had been inconsolable.

    "She moped around, stared into the forest, and cried—like she’d lost a girlfriend, not just a big, fluffy wolf," Raven had muttered, arms crossed.

    Lexa’s chest ached.

    She had never wanted to cause Clarke pain.

    For three days now, she and her family—Becca and Anya—had stayed with the Griffins.

    Jake had no heart to send them back into the forest despite being unconviced of them being wolves.

    But something didn’t add up.

    He had asked them the simplest questions—ones any normal person should be able to answer.

    Their last name? They didn’t have one.

    Their job? They had lived in the forest their entire lives.

    Their home? Gone. Their pack was gone.

    No addresses. No paperwork. No jobs.

    Just… wolves.

    So Jake let them stay in the small guest house behind the main house, since there was no space inside.

    And now, three days later, they all sat in the living room, trying to make sense of it all.

    Lexa told them about Gaia.

    Their goddess.

    The great white wolf.

    About their talk… and how she and Anya and Becca had been sent back.

    Thankfully, fully clothed.

---
Flashback

    One moment, there was warmth.

    A voice, echoing in her bones.

    Then the sensation of falling.

    Lexa hit the ground hard, but when she scrambled up, she realized—

    She was human.

    She looked over. So were Anya and Becca.

    Anya groaned, stretching fingers and limbs she hadn’t had in decades. "Well, at least we’re not naked."

    Becca exhaled in relief. "Gaia must have some mercy, after all."

    But then it hit Lexa—

    That feeling.

    The same pull she had always felt when Clarke would return from college.

    That invisible thread tying her to the girl she had followed for years.

    Clarke was close.

    Lexa ran.

    Or at least, she tried.

    Her new legs wobbled, and she hit the ground again, hard.

    "You absolute idiot," Anya groaned, dragging her up. "You’re not used to walking like this!"

    But Lexa barely heard her.

    Clarke was close.

    She could smell her.

    So she ran.

    And then—

    There she was.

    Sitting on a fallen tree just outside the treeline, golden hair gleaming in the fading sunlight.

    Anya cursed behind her. "Lexa, calm down! If it’s really her, you’ll scare—"

    But then Clarke turned.

    And the moment their eyes met—

    Everything else blurred.

    Lexa had been high on adrenaline, on the sheer joy of seeing Clarke again.

    But then her heart broke.

    Because her sweet girl…

    She was thinner.

    Eyes dimmer.

    Posture slouched, where once she had stood tall, confident.

    She hadn’t been okay.

    Because of her.

    So when Clarke rushed forward, arms flinging around her, sobbing into her shoulder—

    Lexa held her back, tight.

    She buried her face in golden hair and whispered a prayer of gratitude in her mind.

    Gaia, I love her. Thank you for giving me a second chance to love and protect her.

---
End of Flashback

    The room fell into silence.

    No one doubted it anymore.

    It was real.

    No one had lost their minds.

    And somehow… Abby took it the easiest despite her medical background.

    She exhaled, glancing at Jake before looking at the group. "This… isn’t as impossible as you might think."

    Jake frowned. "Abby—"

    "It’s time to tell my father’s story."

    That caught everyone’s attention.

    Abby leaned forward, voice steady. "He told me a tale once. Of a wolf, reborn as human—for love, and for a great deed."

    Jake’s eyes widened. "What—"

    She nodded. "My father was that wolf."

    Dead silence.

    Lexa blinked. "What?"

    Abby smiled softly. "My mother saved him when he was a wolf. And when he was given a second chance… he returned the favor. He guarded this ranch. It was my mom's family’s land, before they gave it to Jake and me after we married."

    Clarke sat up straight. "Wait—Grandpa? I thought he's gone?"

    Abby nodded. "He’s still alive. He and your grandma are traveling the world now. They wanted to enjoy the rest of their lives anonymously."

    Jake muttered something under his breath, shaking his head.

    Abby just smiled. "I’ll ask him to come home. Maybe we all can ask his advice."

    She turned to Lexa, eyes kind. "For now, you can stay here. I know Clarke won’t be letting you out of her sight anytime soon."

    Then she winked.

    Lexa smirked as Clarke groaned, face burning.

    Raven snorted. "Yeah, Clarke, be honest—were you mourning your pet, or your lost love?"

    Clarke whined. "I hate all of you."

    But Lexa just pulled her closer, warm and solid and here.

    Maybe Clarke's soul had fallen in love with the soul of her wolf without realizing.

    But honestly—

    Who wouldn’t, when they were constantly brought flowers and honeycombs by the most loyal creature in the world?

Chapter Text

    The trip to town had been Clarke’s idea—though Raven and Octavia had eagerly jumped on board the second they heard Lexa and Anya needed clothes.

    Lexa had… reservations.

    Cars. Noise. People—so many people.

    Her sharp senses were on overdrive, head snapping at every passing engine and distant dog bark.

    Clarke had to guide her through the crowded sidewalks after they parked the car, with a gentle hand at the small of her back—murmuring reassurances whenever Lexa’s shoulders tensed or her golden eyes darted toward some invisible threat.

    Anya, on the other hand, walked beside them like she owned the whole damn town.

    Stoic. Unflinching.

    Though she did give anyone who so much as glanced in their direction a glare so sharp it could probably skin a deer.

    Raven, of course, was having the time of her life.

    “Relax, Lexy,” she teased, nudging Lexa’s shoulder. “Nobody’s gonna eat you.”

    Lexa scowled. “I was almost eaten once, thank you very much.”

    That earned a snort from Octavia.
“Fair point.”

    The first stop was a little boutique off Main Street.

    Clarke practically beamed as she rifled through racks, holding up shirts and jeans against Lexa’s frame.

    Lexa endured it without complaint—because if Clarke was picking things out for her, she trusted her sweet girl would choose things that wouldn’t suffocate her.

    Until—

    Clarke plucked a small bundle of cotton from the pile and held it out.

    Lexa blinked. “…What’s that?”

    “Underwear.”

    Lexa frowned. “I don’t need that.”

    Clarke’s brows shot up. “Uh—yes, you do.”

    “It’s suffocating.”

    Raven wheezed from across the store.

    Octavia had to bite down on her knuckle to stop herself from laughing.

    Clarke’s ears burned red.

    “Lexa, you can’t just—”

    “I ran through the forest naked for years and survived just fine.”

    That did it—Raven doubled over, cackling loud enough to make half the store turn and stare.

    Anya snorted behind them.

    “Maybe the humans are the weird ones,” she muttered.

    Clarke’s blush spread to her neck. “Just—just try them on, okay? Trust me.”

    Lexa narrowed her eyes… then sighed. She trusted Clarke with her life. Surely, she could trust her with… whatever this was.

    The real test came when Clarke helped Lexa try on her new clothes.

    Thankfully, Lexa was already wearing Clarke’s tank top under the oversized hoodie she’d borrowed.

    The hoodie was perfect—warm, soft, and smelled like Clarke. But the tank top had ridden up as Lexa peeled the hoodie off—revealing a flash of taut abs.

    Clarke’s brain short-circuited.

    Her face went scarlet.

    Lexa caught the hitch in her breath instantly.

    Her sharp senses picked up on the subtle shift in Clarke’s scent—sweet and warm, like honey and wildflowers.

    Lexa tilted her head, curious—then her lips curled into that goofy, little smirk.

    Oh.

    Oh.

    Clarke was flustered.

    Lexa’s smirk widened.

    “Sweet girl… are you okay?”

    Clarke nearly choked on her own spit.

    “Shut up.”

    Lexa chuckled—low and rough—and let Clarke guide her arms into the sleeves of a button-up shirt.

    But the moment Clarke’s fingers brushed against her bare skin—

    Lexa’s eyes fluttered half-shut, and she…
purred.

    A soft, throaty rumble—completely involuntary—vibrated through her chest.

    Clarke froze.

    Her fingers clenched around the buttons.

    “Oh my God.”

    Lexa blinked, startled by the noise herself—then ducked her head, sheepish.

    “…Sorry.”

    “No—” Clarke’s voice cracked. “You—did you just purr?”

    Lexa’s ears turned bright pink. She had never purred in her life as a wolf, and this was also a surprise for her 

    “It’s a… wolf thing, I think?”

    Clarke squeaked.

    Outside the fitting room, Raven leaned casually against the wall—grinning like the little gremlin she was. “Oh yeah,” she drawled. “We’re never letting that one go.”

    Meanwhile, Anya was having her own battle across the store.

    Raven held up a tiny black miniskirt, eyes glinting.

    “This would look hot on you.”

    Anya glared at it like it had personally insulted her ancestors.

    “You want me to show off my butt? No way in hell.”

    Raven snickered. “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll make all the townies fall in love with you?”

    Anya’s golden eyes narrowed.

    She leaned in close—nose-to-nose with Raven.

    “I do not need clothes to make humans fall in love with me, mechanic.”

    Raven blinked.

    Her mouth opened.

    Then snapped shut.

    Octavia choked on laughter. “She’s got you there, Reyes.”

    After the ordeal at the clothing store—an experience Lexa was convinced humans invented purely to torment people—they made their way down the street to a small convenience shop for toiletries and other necessities.

    Lexa’s sharp nose twitched the moment they walked in, assaulted by the overwhelming mix of floral perfumes, lavender soaps, and… plastic?

    She clung to Clarke’s side like a lost pup, golden eyes darting suspiciously between shelves.

    “What is all this?” she whispered.

    “Hygiene stuff,” Clarke explained, grabbing a basket. “Shampoo, soap, toothpaste—everything you’ll need.”

    Lexa blinked, visibly perplexed, “I bathe in rivers.”

    Octavia snorted from behind. “Not anymore, Wolfie.”

    Lexa growled low in her throat, but Clarke shot her a gentle smile—one that would make Lexa’s ears flatten slightly in submission if she still had them.

    “You’ll like these better,” Clarke promised, holding up a bottle of honey and chamomile shampoo.

    Lexa leaned in, sniffed—then blinked in surprise.

    It smelled… nice.

    She nodded slowly, allowing Clarke to add it to the basket.

    But her trust wavered again when they reached the next aisle.

    Clarke grabbed a pack of tampons, and Lexa’s entire face crumpled in horror.

    “What—what are those?”

    Raven, ever the gremlin, grinned wickedly.
“Little sticks you shove up your—”

    “RAVEN!” Clarke barked, face going scarlet.

    Lexa’s eyes widened in abject terror, clutching Clarke’s sleeve like she was about to bolt out of the store.

    Anya, stoic as always, muttered under her breath.

   “Humans are so weird.”

    By the time they finished shopping, Clarke could feel the exhaustion weighing on both wolves.

    So, they headed to a small diner tucked into the corner of the town square—one of those cozy places with cracked leather booths and handwritten menus.

    Lexa sat wedged between Clarke and the window, while Anya reluctantly took the seat across from Raven and Octavia.

    The second the food arrived, Lexa’s entire demeanor changed. Her green eyes locked onto the fries like they were some ancient treasure.

    Clarke bit back a smile as Lexa plucked one cautiously between her fingers, sniffed it—then popped it into her mouth.

    Her eyes went huge.

    “Oh.”

    Clarke giggled.

    Lexa grabbed another. Then another.

    By the fifth fry, she was delightedly feeding Clarke, carefully pressing each one to her lips like it was some sacred offering.

    “Sweet girl,” she murmured every time.

    Clarke was positively melting into her seat.

    Meanwhile, across the table—

    Anya sat scowling at a glass of dark, fizzy liquid Raven had oh-so-helpfully ordered for her.

    “What is this?”

    “Coke,” Raven answered innocently.

    Anya took a cautious sip.

    Her eyes widened.

    Then she snarled, baring sharp teeth as she slammed the glass down hard enough to make the whole table rattle.

    “It bit me!”

    Octavia nearly fell off her seat laughing.

    Raven was cackling, wiping tears from her eyes.

    “Carbonation, baby! Welcome to modern life.”

    Anya growled low in her throat—already plotting murder.

    Octavia finally took pity on her, waving down the waiter.

    “She’ll have orange juice instead.”

    Raven pouted. “Buzzkill.”

    Anya shot her a murderous glare.

    Lexa, meanwhile, was completely oblivious to the chaos—too busy playing the most adorable little game of one fry for me, one fry for you with Clarke.

    Every time Clarke tried to feed herself, Lexa snatched the fry away and fed her instead—her warm fingers brushing over Clarke’s lips with every bite.

    Clarke’s heart was pounding.

    Lexa smirked, eyes glinting.

    “You smell sweet again.”

    Clarke choked.

    Raven howled.

    Octavia buried her face in her hands.

    Anya just sighed.

    This was going to be a long day.

    By the time they left the shopping district, they were loaded down with shopping bags.

    Lexa wore her new button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, with Clarke’s hoodie still zipped over it.

    She tugged self-consciously at the waistband of her jeans.

    The underwear situation… still felt weird.

    But Clarke had promised they were necessary.

    And Clarke always kept her promises.

    Lexa reached out—threading her fingers quietly through Clarke’s.

    Clarke squeezed back without missing a beat.

    Her heart skipped at the warmth of Lexa’s palm.

    Maybe she really had fallen in love with the wolf without realizing.

    Lexa leaned in, voice low and soft.

    “Thank you… sweet girl.”

    Clarke’s cheeks flushed pink.

    She couldn’t stop smiling the whole drive back home.

    The drive back home was… an experience.

    Lexa sat in the front seat, fingers clutching the edge of the seat like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her green eyes darted between every passing car, every honk, every flickering billboard. The hum of the engine made her shoulders stiff, and her breath came out in short, controlled puffs—like she was fighting every instinct not to jump out of the moving vehicle.

    Clarke kept sneaking glances at her from the back seat, biting back a smile.

    “She’s one bad swerve away from trying to tuck and roll out of here,” Raven whispered as she drove, earning herself a glare from Anya.

    “She’s adjusting,” Anya grumbled, arms crossed like the world was personally offending her.

    Raven snickered. “Sure, sure. And you weren’t about to bite the cashier for offering you a store membership card?”

    “I was not!”

    Clarke leaned forward between the seats, resting her hand lightly on Lexa’s arm. The muscles under her palm were tense, coiled tight like a spring.

    “You’re doing great, Lex,” she murmured, her voice steady and soft.

    Lexa blinked at her, some of the storm in her eyes easing.

    Clarke squeezed gently.

    “We’re almost home.”

    By the time they reached the ranch, Lexa was out of the car before the engine even fully stopped. She paced across the gravel driveway—bare feet scuffing against the ground, because the shoes were still uncomfortable—her head twitching toward every sound. The distant moo of a cow. The rustling of leaves. The creak of the porch steps under Jake’s boots.

    Clarke watched her from a few feet away, something warm and protective blooming in her chest.

    Her wolf.

    Still hers.

    “Lex…” she called softly, stepping closer.

    Lexa's pacing faltered, those sharp green eyes flicking toward her.

    Clarke held out her hand.

    “Come take a walk with me?”

    Lexa’s brow furrowed, that cute little head tilt Clarke had always loved—wolf or not.

    “The forest?” she asked, voice low and uncertain.

    “Not far,” Clarke promised. “Just… to the edge. You’ll feel better out there.”

    Lexa hesitated only a second before taking Clarke’s hand, letting herself be led toward the treeline.

    The moment they crossed into the shade of the woods, Clarke felt Lexa’s whole body ease. Her shoulders loosened, her breathing steadied, and those sharp eyes softened—taking in every familiar tree, every patch of wildflowers.

    They walked in silence for a while, hand in hand, until they reached the fallen tree where Clarke had spent countless nights mourning her wolf.

    Lexa sat first, pulling Clarke down beside her. Without thinking, her arm wrapped around Clarke’s waist—natural, protective.

    Clarke leaned into the warmth, letting her head rest against Lexa’s shoulder.

    “You good?” she asked quietly after a while.

    There was no answer.

    Clarke glanced up—and found Lexa fast asleep, head tipped against hers, face finally peaceful.

    A soft chuckle escaped her lips.

    “Oh, wolfie…”

    She shifted carefully, laying Lexa’s head down on her lap. Fingers found their way into dark curls, combing through them gently. Lexa purred—a low, rumbling sound that sent a blush creeping up Clarke’s neck.

    Clarke’s heart clenched.

    “Thank you for coming back to me…” she whispered.

    Lexa didn’t wake—but Clarke could have sworn her lips twitched.

    They stayed like that until the sun dipped low behind the trees—until the sky turned gold and lavender.

    And as Clarke watched the light fade through the branches, one thought settled quietly in her heart.

    Lexa Woods.

    It felt right.

    She’d ask her later—when the time was right.

    For now… she would just be here.

    With her wolf.

    Her Lexa.

    Her second chance.

Chapter Text

    Lexa slept on Clarke’s lap, her body curled slightly as if still in wolf form. The soft rise and fall of Clarke’s breath against her back anchored her—but inside, her mind wandered into darker woods.

    She was dreaming.

    But it wasn’t a memory. Not exactly.

    It was her watching memories.

    As if her soul had followed Clarke, unseen and powerless.

    The moment played before her, painfully vivid—the day she died.

    She remembered the snap of her own ribs, the sickening crack, the warm flood of pain. She’d seen Clarke’s face through blurry vision as the world faded, as her heartbeat slowed. That radiant girl, cradling her furred head, tears falling like they could will her to stay.

    She watched now as Clarke screamed into the woods, begging the world to bring her back. And she couldn't move. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t even howl.

    Then came the three days after.

    Clarke had barely eaten. She hadn’t slept. Not without Lexa curled at her side.

    She had buried her in the grove, the one with the tree shaped like a crescent moon. Every hour of sunlight passed with Clarke sitting by that grave, fingers clutching the stone like she’d forget the shape of it if she let go.

    Lexa’s dream-self whimpered, pacing at the edge of those memories, frantic to comfort her.

    The first week was worse.

    Octavia and Raven had taken turns holding Clarke through the sobs. Her whole body shook, violent and trembling, like she was trying to scream the grief out of her bones. Octavia had whispered, “She needs time.” Raven had cried in secret, swearing under her breath that she’d find a way to bring her back, even if she had to shake the gods themselves.

    Lexa stood behind them, invisible, helpless.

    Then came the first month.

    Clarke no longer cried every day. But the smile was gone. That light—her light—was dimmed. She walked like someone had cut off her shadow. Her laugh, when it came, sounded like someone else’s.

    Lexa ached to reach through the veil and pull that sorrow into herself.

    In the second month, Clarke had thrown herself into work, helping Abby at the clinic. She cared for sick goats and grumpy cats and bandaged paws with expert hands—but Lexa could see it. The distraction. The hollow place she carried inside.

    Over the next four months, Clarke had improved. The laughter started coming back. She began painting again—slowly, carefully. But Lexa saw how she hesitated before drawing wolves. How she looked toward the treeline sometimes, expecting a flash of black fur and getting only wind.

    Lexa whimpered in her sleep, limbs twitching. Her breath came fast.

    Clarke stirred beneath her, her fingers brushing through Lexa’s hair. “Lex? Lexa, it’s okay,” she whispered.

    But Lexa didn’t wake.

    In the dream, the world around her shifted.

    A familiar voice broke through the mist.

    "It was never your fault, Lexa."

    It was Gaia.

    Only her voice, not her form. A warm echo, like leaves rustling across a sacred glade.

    "You and Clarke were more than wolf and girl. You were soul-bound. Imprinted, beyond natural law. That happens... rarely. But when it does, the loss runs deeper."

    Lexa stood still, the woods of memory frozen around her.

    "You were different, meant to be a leader. You were aware. Few wolves are. Most only awaken when they pass—when they reach the Beyond and choose what comes next."

    Images flickered—Lexa, Anya, Becca—all stepping into human form in that otherworldly place.

    "Some choose to return. Others are given a second chance. You, Anya, Becca—you were chosen. Freely. Given life once more, because your souls were ready to evolve."

    “But others,” Gaia continued, her tone darker now, "They demanded second chances. Came back with conditions. Missions. Many broke them for the sake of worldly desires and greed. Some twisted their purpose. These are the ones you must watch for. Your senses will slowly learn to recognize your fellow wolfkin, be aware of your surroundings. "

    Scenes unfolded like ghostly illusions—wolfkin with sharp eyes and sharper smiles, wearing skin like armor. Some helped. Some hunted.

    "There are factions now. Those who walk freely… and those who bear the weight of failed promises."

    Lexa’s fists clenched.

    "You must protect your family, Lexa. Allies and enemies alike will find you. Clarke’s grandfather… he is a good place to start. He understands more than most. He will help you adapt. Help you build a life here. Papers, identities, names."

    The trees around Lexa faded to silver, the moon rising in her dreamscape.

    Clarke’s voice pierced through like sunlight.

    “Lexa… wake up.”

    Lexa hesitated.

    She wanted to stay. To ask more. To understand.

    But Gaia chuckled, the sound like warm wind through grass.

    “You’ll find me again when the time is right. Go back to her. You’re needed.”

---

    Lexa’s eyes fluttered open.

    Dusk had slipped quietly into night. The sky above was scattered with stars. She blinked, adjusting to the soft twilight.

    The first thing she saw was Clarke’s face. Blue eyes bright—so bright—the clouds of sadness gone, replaced with a smile that reached every part of her.

    Lexa felt her own smile bloom in return, slow and warm.

    “…Hi,” she said softly.

    Clarke laughed—a sound that wrapped around Lexa’s heart like a favorite song—and helped her sit up.

    “You were dreaming,” Clarke murmured.

    Lexa nodded. “I’ll tell you… soon.”

    They walked home together, fingers brushing until they finally laced.

    The windows of the house glowed warm in the distance.

    Inside, Raven and Octavia were in the kitchen, sleeves rolled, helping Abby and Becca with dinner. Laughter spilled through the windows.

    In the living room, Anya was hunched over a chessboard, brow furrowed. Jake sat across from her, patient and calm as he explained the rules for the third time.

    Lexa took it all in—this life, this second chance.

    She didn’t know what storms were ahead.

    But she had Clarke.

    She had her family.

    She had time.

    And this time, she wouldn’t waste a second.

---

    The scent of roasted vegetables, warm bread, and honey-glazed meat filled the cabin as they all gathered around the long wooden table. The kitchen lights glowed soft gold, casting gentle shadows across faces both old and new. Clarke leaned into Lexa’s side, her smile easy and bright—like the sun had returned just to sit in her eyes.

    Becca, spooning mashed potatoes onto a plate, glanced up and asked, “So, you two ventured into town today, hmm? How’d it go?”

    Anya, sitting straighter than usual and suspiciously quiet, answered with a muttered, “Fine.”

    Raven, never one to let a moment slip by, snorted into her drink. “Fine, she says—after nearly declaring war on a glass of Coke.”

    Clarke chuckled, "That was cute,"

    Becca looked over, curious now.

    “I didn’t know it would sting,” Anya hissed defensively, rubbing her tongue like it had betrayed her. “It fizzed. And bit me.”

    “It’s literally just soda,” Raven teased, elbowing her. “Carbonation, meet ancient pride.”

    Anya grumbled something that sounded like “tiny lightning poison.” But she didn’t deny it. The glint in her eye said she’d be plotting vengeance against all carbonated drinks henceforth.

    Everyone chuckled, and Lexa, still glowing from her earlier nap and that smile Clarke gave her, leaned forward, bouncing a little.

    “It was amazing, Mom,” she said, eyes wide, voice full of wonder. “We saw shops, and lights, and those little dancing tubes outside the car dealership that wiggle like they have no bones—”

    “Inflatable flailing arm guys,” Clarke said, laughing.

    “Yes! Those!” Lexa beamed. “And there was a man selling sticks covered in sugar—candy canes. And another who made fire in a paper box to heat chestnuts. I didn’t even know humans did that!”

    Becca watched her daughter with a soft, fond smile. “You always did love new things,” she said, voice warm. “You remember the first time you followed the hunting party?”

    Lexa froze, mid-bite. 

    Clarke’s curiosity perked. “Do tell.”

    “Oh,” Becca grinned. “She was just a pup. Couldn’t have been more than six moons. Eager little thing, tail wagging like a flag. The pack was out for a small hunt, and Lexa spots a squirrel.” She chuckled. “Bolts after it like it’s a great elk. Leaps—wham! Nose-first into the tree trunk.”

    “Did not!” Lexa muttered, ears already turning red.

    “Oh, you did,” Anya added, deadpan, “Then you came back to me, whining like the squirrel had insulted your ancestors.”

    “And you showed it to me!” Lexa blurted, smiling. “You caught another one and let me sniff it!”

    “After you made me chase it down without biting it,” Anya grumbled. “Only for you to tell me to let it go so you could chase it again. Like a fuzzy game of tag.”

    The whole table erupted in laughter. Clarke leaned in, resting her head on Lexa’s shoulder. “You were the cutest little chaos puppy.”

    “I was badass,” Lexa muttered into her fork.

    Clarke cooed, “Yes, yes you were—badassly cute.”

    Lexa huffed, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. Her eyes flicked to Clarke’s, soft and shining. In that gaze, she found her anchor, her storm, her dawn and her dusk. Her reason for every breath she took in this second life.

    Whether Clarke felt the same or not, Lexa thought, I loved her, and came back for her.

    And she would stay.

    Always.

---

    Later that night, with the moon peeking in through the window and a quiet hush wrapping around the house like a quilt, Clarke stood at her bedroom door, arms crossed, sleep-blurred but stubborn.

    “Cuddle. Now,” she demanded.

    Lexa blinked. “You don’t ask, do you?”

    “No,” Clarke said simply, tugging her in.

    Lexa smiled, soft and full of something sacred, and climbed under the covers beside Clarke. She pulled the human into her arms with practiced ease, like her limbs remembered the shape of her even before she returned. Clarke pressed her cheek against Lexa’s chest, breathing slowly syncing to the calm rhythm of Lexa’s heartbeat. It didn’t take long before Clarke’s breaths grew deeper, more even, the tension in her shoulders slipping away.

    Lexa watched her, brushing stray strands of golden hair from her forehead. She dipped her head and placed a kiss there, gentle and reverent.

    “I’ll be back before the sun rises,” she whispered.

    With one last lingering look, Lexa slipped out of the bed and padded quietly through the house, making her way to the guest house where Becca and Anya were still awake.

    Inside, Becca sat curled in an armchair with a book in hand—though it wasn’t clear where or how she'd gotten the novel, nor how she was already halfway through it. Across from her, Anya frowned at a chessboard like it had insulted her family.

    “This... horse thing cheats,” Anya muttered.

    “It’s called a knight,” Becca said, not looking up.

    “Then it’s aptly named. It gallops across the board like it owns the place.”

    Lexa chuckled as she entered. “Still better than the squirrel.”

    Anya didn’t look up, but a ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips.

    Lexa sat down with them, shoulders squaring. “I need to talk to you both.”

    That got their attention. Becca closed her book. Anya leaned forward.

    Lexa took a breath. “There are more of us. Wolfkin. Alive. Some hiding. Some... not so peaceful. I met Gaia in my dream. She told me there are factions. Some who want to stay hidden, live normal lives. Others who used their second chances for their greed, desires. And now, we knew Abby is a wolfkin-human descendant, that also makes Clarke part of wolfkin. I'm afraid the other faction will know soon, because we are here." 

    Lexa looked at her mom and sister,

    "Gaia said that allies will soon come to meet us, and I have a feeling that they were not the only one. Maybe wolfkin can sense each other, we need to look into that tomorrow but if my hunch was right..."

    Becca’s face darkened with concern. “Then Abby and Clarke might be in danger, we are all.”

    “They might come looking,” Lexa nodded. 

    “Gaia said I was... different from the start. That I was meant to lead.” Her voice faltered slightly at the weight of it.

    Lexa glanced between them. “When you were still wolves… did you know? I mean, did you think the way we do now?”

    Both older women fell quiet.

    “I remember the world in scent and sound,” Becca said slowly. “I remember watching you both grow, hunting, surviving. But… not like this. Not with understanding. That came only once we crossed the veil.”

    Anya nodded, quiet for once. “Only instincts before. Now I remember why I felt what I felt.”

    Lexa looked down, her voice soft. “So I really was alone.”

    “No,” Becca said firmly, reaching across the table. “You were never alone. We watched. We were proud. You made it, Lexa. You survived when we couldn’t. You found a pack. You loved.”

    Anya snorted. “Only you would fall in love with a human while still covered in fur.”

    Lexa shrugged with a grin. “She is kind. Beautiful. Smells like spring and warm cinnamon. And she gives excellent ear scratches.”

    Becca laughed. Anya rolled her eyes, but her smirk lingered, warm and protective. Just like the old days.

    —Meanwhile.. in Clarke's room..

    The dream began sweet.

    Sunlight bathed a forest clearing in gold, trees whispering with a summer breeze. Clarke walked hand in hand with Lexa, who smiled that rare, radiant smile she reserved only for Clarke. Birds sang. The earth hummed. Peace, at last.

    Lexa turned to her, brushing hair from Clarke’s face. “We’re safe now,” she whispered.

    Clarke nodded. “Always.”

    But then the birds stopped.

    The air turned cold.

    Lexa tensed.

    Clarke blinked—and Lexa was no longer smiling. Her eyes shimmered with something… off. Pain? Fear?

    “Lexa?”

    Lexa took a step back, swaying.

    Her body began to tremble.

    Crack.

    Her bones shifted.

    Fur burst across her skin.

    “No—no, Lexa, wait—”

    Lexa dropped to her knees, the change coming too fast, too violently. A strangled howl tore from her throat as she collapsed onto all fours, her human form vanishing. The wolf blinked up at Clarke with familiar green eyes.

    Then coughed.

    Blood stained the grass.

    “No. No! Not again—Lexa, stay with me!”

    Clarke dropped beside her, cradling the wolf’s head, just like that night—the worst night. Her hands shook as Lexa's breathing grew ragged. The forest dimmed. Shadows curled in like closing fists.

    “You promised,” Clarke sobbed. “You said you’d stay.”

    The wolf let out a soft, broken whimper. Her fur was damp with tears—Clarke’s, or hers, no one could tell.

    Lexa’s body went still.

    The green eyes dulled.

    And Clarke wailed.

    She tried to wake up, heart jackhammering, tears wet on her cheeks, hands clawing at the sheets, but her body refused to wake up, trapping her in a never ending heartache.

---
    —Back at the guest house

    They talked well into the night—about finding work, living like humans. Lexa said they couldn’t rely on the Griffins forever. They needed roots of their own.

    “Oh,” Lexa added, almost forgetting, “Gaia said Clarke’s grandfather could help us. He’ll be a strong ally. We’ll meet him soon.”

    Eventually, they parted. Becca returned to her book. Anya finally beat the knight. Lexa slipped back into the Griffin house just as the hour turned.

    Just as Lexa entered the blonde's bedroom, Clarke was thrashing in bed, limbs tangled in the sheets, her voice caught in a whimper.

    “Lexa—Lexa—please—”

    Lexa’s heart clenched like a fist. She rushed to the bed, climbing in and gathering Clarke into her arms. Clarke’s limbs fought her for a second before she was startled awake,

    “Lexa?” she sobbed. “You’re—You’re here?”

    “I’m here, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, pressing her cheek to Clarke’s temple. “We’re safe. You’re safe.”

    Clarke’s body trembled as her sobs came, quiet but fierce. “I thought it was a dream,” she gasped. “That you coming back wasn’t real. That you're still dead…”

    Lexa wrapped her tighter. “I’m real, alive. I came back. For you. Only you.”

    She rubbed Clarke’s back in slow, grounding circles. Clarke hiccuped softly, the storm in her finally settling.

    Lexa kissed the top of her head and purred low in her chest, the ancient sound soothing. Clarke let herself fall into it.

    She clung to Lexa, whispering nothing but Lexa’s name until sleep reclaimed her.

    Lexa stayed, holding her like a vow. And when her own eyes drifted closed, her purr was still echoing in the room.

    Together, they slept—two souls reunited, curled in the fragile peace of night.

---

    The next few days, Clarke was noticeably clingier.

    Not that Lexa minded. Not at all. If anything, she reveled in it—soaking in every hand that lingered, every glance that stretched longer than usual, every soft brush of Clarke’s fingers against hers. It felt like being chosen over and over again.

    Lexa spent most of the day at the clinic, quietly shadowing Clarke as she worked.

    The clinic was more lively lately, especially after Clarke came back as vet. The townfolk had long since realized that the Griffins' clinic was worth the drive, Abby—and now Clarke too—had a gentle touch, sharp instincts, and results that put the larger city practices to shame.

    Lexa had started helping out with small tasks—bandaging wounds, prepping materials—and she noticed something curious: the dogs adored her. Or feared her. Or maybe respected her in that strange, instinctive way animals did with apex predators. Either way, they behaved.

    A young husky threw a fit in the waiting room, yipping and snarling and trying to climb out of its harness the moment Abby picked up a needle.

    Lexa simply tilted her head, locked eyes with it, and blinked once.

    The pup froze. Sat down. Stayed quiet.

    Clarke had to bite her lip to stop from laughing.

    Then there was the massive German Shepherd who snarled at anyone trying to get near his injured paw. Clarke approached gently, only to be met with bared teeth. Before anyone could panic, Lexa stepped closer. Her growl was nearly imperceptible—low, subtle, more a vibration than a sound—but the Shepherd heard it.

    He immediately stilled, laying his head down in submission.

    Clarke chuckled as she examined the paw. “You really are the queen of the forest, huh?”

    The owner gaped. “He tried to bite three vets. One almost lost a finger!”

    Lexa shrugged. “He’s just misunderstood.”

  During her break, Lexa disappeared for a bit.

    She returned just before lunch, holding out a coffee and a turkey sandwich like a proud hunter presenting her offering. But the real surprise was hidden in her palm—a small jar of golden honey, freshly collected from the woods.

    Clarke gasped, eyes lighting up. “You got stung for this, didn’t you?”

    Lexa gave her a bashful smile. “Only a little. Worth it for my sweet girl.”

    Clarke kissed her cheek, warm and grateful. “You’re ridiculous. And perfect.”

    Lexa’s chest thrummed with joy. If she still had her tail, it would’ve been wagging so hard her whole body would’ve vibrated. She was so sure of it.

    Later, as they sat in the quiet back room, Clarke finally opened up.

    “The dream…” she began, voice small. “You turned back. Into a wolf. And you died again. It felt so real, Lexa. I woke up and—part of me still wasn’t sure.”

    Lexa didn’t speak right away. She just pulled Clarke into her arms, holding her like the world might try to steal her away again.

    “I’m here,” Lexa whispered into her hair. “I came back for you. Only you.”

    Clarke buried her face in Lexa’s shoulder, her breath shaky. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

    “I won’t,” Lexa promised. “Not even death could keep me away.”

---

    That afternoon, for the first time, Lexa felt it.

    A strange tickle at the back of her senses—like a whisper riding on the wind, threading through her awareness like spider silk. 

    She was helping Abby settle a litter of tiny, shivering kittens someone had found abandoned in a cardboard box by the convenience store not far from the farm. Clarke was in the back room, doing inventory, her voice occasionally echoing softly from the hall.

    The tickle sharpened into a pull.

    Lexa frowned. She murmured something to Abby and slipped outside, drawn by the instinctive hum in her blood.

    She spotted her near the farm’s side gate.
Octavia.

    She was walking toward the clinic with a relaxed gait and her usual fire in her eyes, but something was… off. There was a flicker in her aura. A hidden depth. The closer she came, the stronger that old wild pull grew inside Lexa’s ribs.

    Lexa met her halfway, grabbed her arm firmly, and steered her away from the clinic doors. “Who are you, really, O?” she demanded, voice low and sharp.

    Octavia only grinned, all cool confidence and spark. “Took you long enough to sense me.”

    That made Lexa still. Her muscles coiled with unease.

    Gaia had warned her—about others. Not all who came back wore the same hearts. Some were twisted by their greed.

    “Are you one of them?” Lexa asked, narrowing her eyes. “The rogue ones?”

    Octavia snorted. “Chill, Commander. I’m not part of those ungrateful wolves.” she said with barely concealed disgust,

    She stepped closer. Then, gently, she reached for Lexa’s arm, pressing their wrists together.

    The scent then hit Lexa like a thunderclap.

    Her knees almost gave out.

    That scent. So faint, hidden beneath the human layers. But unmistakable. The soft pine of their den. The sweet smoke from their fire. And buried in it—one particular thread of memory.

    The smallest snd youngest pup. Barely a few months old when everything shattered.

    Lexa's throat closed, guilt and sadness still clung to her even after years had passed. “I know you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You were the runt...”

    Octavia’s smirk faltered, eyes suddenly glassy. “Heya, sister.”