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Having a human as your mate — the best fate possible, you might say. But having a human as your mate when you're a werewolf? Not nature's finest stroke of luck. Not so bad, though, compared to your friend, whose true mate was a witcher. Nothing to envy. And yet… There will be problems.
Jean has realized something wasn't right from the moment he woke up in the morning. It could've seemed like a normal start of the day, usual breakfast with his pack of werewolves, herbalist, and, recently, also the witcher, but he just felt… wrong. And if others noticed the nervous change in his smell, they said nothing during breakfast. Though, it didn't take too long for someone to finally speak to him about it.
— Are you alright? — a girl with pure white hair with pastel colored tips sat beside him, as he was looking into the depths of the forest, as if trying to hypnotize it. — You seem a bit off.
Jean didn't want to speak, which wasn't rare, but ignoring Renee like that was rude.
— I don't know, — he answered honestly, — I just feel… something. Some kind of a pull. Like a need to go there.
He kept looking forward and the girl looked there as well. They sat in silence for a while until she spoke.
— Maybe you should give in and follow it? You know, Nat did that once too, and now we have Andrew with us.
Jean instantly switched his gaze to her as she mentioned Nathaniel. All their pack knew how he met his true mate — Andrew — just a few months ago, and all of them knew how hard it was for the werewolf to stay away from the witcher, as the second one wasn't aware of the situation.
Of course, true mates were considered as only “the werewolves thing”, but recently they've found out that only one could be it. And it made everything worse.
Moreau looked back at the forest.
He'd be lying if he said he never wanted to meet his mate. But knowing how much pain it could bring him, he simply didn't want to. He was afraid. But the feeling kept getting stronger.
He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. It's not like he had a choice. He stood up and swiftly took off his clothes, as he didn't want to rip it. His body changed in the blink of an eye. There was nothing left of the human features and in front of the white-haired girl stood a large, black wolf with expressive, human gray eyes. The wolf didn't wait for anything and simply ran into the depths of the forest, following the silent call in his chest, and hearing a quiet "Good luck" behind him.
***
He ran. He didn't know where, but he kept running. The feeling in his chest kept pulling him further and he couldn't stop. He could feel as he was getting closer to something. To someone. His nose caught a light smell and he was lost. The soft scent of roses and vanilla surrounded him like a gentle veil. He no longer noticed how quickly he ran through trees and bushes, leaped over streams, and ran through fields, following this charming aroma. Until he slowed down.
Approaching a small open area near the river, he stopped completely near the trees and stared.
There was a girl. A human. And he could’ve hated his fate, if not for this intoxicating smell that filled his nostrils and lungs, forcing him to forget everything and just watch. This smell came from her.
A young girl was sitting on the grass near the river, humming a melody. Her brown hair with hints of red fluttered in the wind, as her gray-blue eyes looked peaceful as she was, staring fascinatedly at her notebook, in which she drew lines with a mechanical pencil. She looked so natural, as if she was in her own particular space and atmosphere, yet still entirely here.
Jean didn't notice how he held his breath while staring. She didn't seem to notice him yet.
As if hypnotized by her sight and smell, he very slowly began to approach closer, emerging from behind the trees. Just as he rounded the last tree, the branches of the bushes crackled under his massive paws, betraying his presence. It didn't go unnoticed.
He froze.
The girl turned around instantly, and he could hear her heart pounding. She immediately jumped up from her seat and began backing away, looking at the wolf with large, frightened eyes.
— H-hey… — her voice cracked, showing her fear, but Jean could feel and see it anyway.
Along with the sweet scent of roses, he caught the bitter and pungent scent of true terror, which made him lower his head slightly, pressing his fluffy ears to his head. Knowing that she was so scared because of him almost made him whine.
The blue eyes kept carefully watching him.
— Please don't hurt me. I didn't know you were here… I'll leave right away, just-
She was interrupted by a wolf's whine. She immediately froze and stared at the large animal in front of her, which looked more like a puppy in its demeanor. He laid flat on the ground, resting his big head with his ears pressed down on the grass, and whined quietly, looking at her. For some reason, her heart began to beat faster at this view, not from fear this time.
She was confused.
She hesitated to approach him, but the sight of the wolf whining like that before her made her chest ache. She wanted to go over and comfort him.
She made a deep sigh. Her empathy for all living beings will kill her one day.
She took a small and hesitant step towards it.
— Hey… You okay?
Her smell slightly changed from deep fear to more unsure curiosity and it made him lift his ears and wag his tail. She seemed to become calmer at this view. After taking a few more steps, she tilted her head bird-like, maintaining eye contact with him as she’s been thinking about something.
— You’re… Not just a wolf, right?
His ears instantly perked up and he lifted his head off the ground. She seemed to get that as an answer to her question. The girl sighed and carefully sat back down on the grass. Not too far, but not in the reach. They were on the same eye level now and they kept looking at each other.
— You’re too big to be just an ordinary wolf. And you seem to clearly understand what I’m saying. — She took a deep sigh and turned her gaze away. There was only uncertainty left, as the scent of fear was completely gone. — Never thought I’d meet a real werewolf one day. And they said they weren’t real hah…
The girl noticed the wolf moving and she looked back at him. He slowly stood up from his place and took small and careful steps towards her, as if trying not to scare her away. She just stared into his gray and so human eyes and waited. He stopped near her, but not touching. They both were mesmerized at that moment.
Obeying an unknown impulse, without breaking eye contact, which felt like something special at that moment, she slowly raised her hand to his head, but stopped a few inches away from it. The werewolf didn't hesitate a second before leaning into the touch of her hand, letting out a contented, quiet growl. Her shoulders sagged, releasing tension she hadn't even noticed.
Her fingers dug into the thick black fur, and she felt the muscles move beneath them. The wolf closed his eyes at the touch, as if afraid that she would be gone.
But in a moment, his ears began to twitch sharply, as if picking up distant sounds. He moved his head away from her warm hand and stared back at the forest. She froze with her hand still in the air.
The next second they heard a wolf howl. Or maybe it wasn't really a wolf?...
The animal looked back at her and his eyes expressed… sorrow? He carefully approached her closely and pressed his nose to her neck, inhaling such a delicate and calming scent of roses.
She didn't understand what happened, but the wolf had already turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving a trail of the forest and a feeling of strange desolation.
***
The days that followed felt strangely quiet and… empty.
Liyana felt uneasy from the very beginning of that strange day until now. She kept returning to the riverbank, but she could never find a reason for it. She told herself she simply liked the spot — the soft grass, the cool shade, the murmur of the water. It had always been her place. A refuge. And yet, every time she sat down, opening her notebook and letting her pencil glide over the page, she caught herself listening. Waiting.
Still, the wolf didn’t appear.
Not to her eyes, at least.
Jean came every time.
From the moment her soft rose-like scent drifted through the trees, he was there — silent, massive, blending with the shadows. He lay in the undergrowth, watching her with those piercing gray eyes, his tail sometimes flicking like a restless thought. She looked peaceful like this. So calm and connected with the nature around her. As if it was her place to be. Sometimes she hummed some melodies from songs, and he found himself unconsciously lowering his head, soothed by her voice.
There were times when his pack teased him about it, when they finally realised what was happening with him. One of his werewolf friends bumped his shoulder one day with a playful growl:
“She's there, isn't she? Go already. Why are you hiding again?”
Jean only huffed in annoyance. They didn’t get it.
They hadn’t seen how she looked at him that first time. Hadn’t felt that fragile thread of trust weaving itself between them. He couldn’t risk breaking it.
***
The first real encounter after their initial meeting happened three days later.
Liyana was sitting cross-legged in the grass, a small frown forming between her brows as she tried to capture the curve of a leaf in her sketch. The sun highlighted her hair, making the reddish strands glow like embers. That was when she heard the softest rustle behind her.
She didn’t turn. Not immediately.
— I knew you would come, — her lips curved in a tiny, knowing smile. "I've been waiting for you" flew in her thoughts and this time she didn't refuse it.
A low rumble answered her — half greeting, half confirmation.
Only then she turned her head and saw him. The huge black wolf. Sitting still, a respectful distance away. Watching her with almost… careful hopefulness.
— You can come closer… if you want, — she patted the grass near her in an inviting manner.
She didn’t expect him to obey, but he did. Slowly, almost cautiously. As if every step mattered. When she carefully extended her hand, he pressed his muzzle into her palm without hesitation, closing his eyes as if her touch was something sacred. Her smile widened.
That was how their quiet ritual began.
Day after day, she returned. And day after day, he joined her. Sometimes she talked — about her life or something unimportant, yet it was everything he wanted to hear. About how she spilled tea on her notebook that morning. About her exhaustion with trying to keep up with her studies and make friends. About how her parents treated her unfairly — he would always feel anger burning within him at those people. He listened to every word.
Other times she simply sat in silence, and Jean would lie beside her, his large body warm against the grass, his breathing steady. She often rested her hand on his head or scratched behind his ear, and every time, he melted under her fingers. He had never imagined he could feel this safe near a human. Or that a human could ever feel safe near him.
But she did.
He felt it in her scent — gentle roses surrounded him like a soft blanket. Never harming in any way, but only lulling him in that safety.
Until one day… something changed.
***
It happened on the eighth afternoon.
She was sitting with her knees pulled up, a light breeze playing with her hair. Her loose shirt had slipped off her shoulder, exposing part of her arm. She didn’t notice. Yet he did, like he always has.
He always paid attention to her scent — it was instinct. Roses, vanilla… and something else today. Jean’s nose twitched and his body froze.
Blood.
Faint, covered by medical scents, but never hidden from the wolf’s nose.
Jean froze mid-step, muscles tight, breath held. He approached her slowly, almost cautiously, as if afraid the truth might hurt him.
She felt him before she heard him — a warm presence, like a shift in the air. When she turned her head, she could see his ears pushed forward sharply.
Jean leaned in before he could think, pressing his nose gently against her forearm. She flinched and instantly hid her hand behind her back. A reflex.
— Don’t… — she whispered, her voice trembling not with fear, but shame.
Jean’s heart squeezed painfully. He didn’t retreat. Instead, he slowly, very slowly, lowered his massive head onto her lap. A soft, apologetic whine escaped him, barely audible. She only stared at him — stunned, fragile.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then her hand gently slid through the fur between his ears. A shaky breath left her as she leaned into the touch. She felt a need to say something, to fill this awkward silence.
— It’s nothing, — she murmured quietly. — Really. I’m fine. It was just… a moment.
But her scent told him a different story.
Loneliness.
The kind someone learns to live with because there was no one to talk to about it.
With a soft sigh, he nudged her stomach with his nose. Not pushing. Just… reminding her he was there. She wasn’t alone now. She let out a soft laugh — the small, wounded kind.
— You’re too sweet for such a big wolf, — she was smiling softly, but his eyes could see her shining eyes — a hint of her unshed tears.
He stayed with her until the sun dipped low, his head resting against her hip, her fingers intertwined in his fur, and peaceful silence flying between them with calming sounds of nature.
He would’ve stayed all night if she hadn’t stood to go. She wasn't in a hurry, but they both knew she had to come back home. Or, at least, a place they call like that. She faced him.
— Thank you. For being here every time, — she turned her eyes to the sky, — even though I know nothing about you, you're still here, listening to me...
He stood still, looking closely at her, mesmerized by her beauty. He didn't dare to move an inch, afraid to ruin the moment.
She turned her calm gaze to him.
They were looking at each other for a few moments until she approached him and leaned closer. He froze.
He felt her gentle hands in his fur on his face and her warm breath on his head.
His heart was about to jump out of his chest. He felt her rose-like scent so close to him, so sweet and enveloping ...
She left a soft kiss on his forehead.
He remained standing in the same spot for a good 30 minutes after she left.
***
The next day came quieter than the others.
Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, turning the sunlight into a warm, muted gold that made the whole forest seem calmer, as though the day itself held its breath. The river moved slowly, its surface smooth like glass except where the current curled around stones, catching the light in molten amber ripples.
She walked down the familiar narrow path, sketchbook pressed to her chest, shoes brushing through tall grass still warm from the sun. The air carried the gentle smell of pine needles and wet stone, but something else lingered beneath it — something comforting and familiar.
Something she now associated with him.
Her wolf.
She reached the riverbank and stood still for a moment, letting the quiet settle around her. Even the birds seemed to be singing more softly today, as if not to disturb the moment.
She exhaled slowly.
— You’re here… aren’t you?
The wind stirred, brushing her hair against her cheek, and the leaves rustled deep in the forest. For a second she thought she imagined it — but then she heard it again.
A footstep.
Not heavy. Not the soft thump of paws she had grown used to.
A human step.
Her heart leapt into her throat. She turned her head toward the trees, breath held, barely daring to breathe. The shadows were long there, spilled between the trunks like ink, and for a moment she saw nothing.
Then a movement.
Someone was walking toward her. Slowly, but deliberately. Her fingers tightened around her sketchbook as a figure emerged from between two tall pines, stepping into the warm gold of late afternoon. Her breath hitched.
He was barefoot, grass folding beneath his steps. His clothes — simple, but so natural on him — moved with the breeze. His black curly hair fell messily over his forehead and eyes, catching the light in soft brown highlights. But it was his eyes that froze her in place.
Gray.
So familiar.
So unmistakable.
The same eyes she had looked into as she touched warm fur.
The same eyes that watched her with a depth that words could never explain.
Now human, meeting her gaze in the light of day.
He stopped a few steps away, as if giving her space, his chest rising and falling a little too fast, betraying nerves he tried to hide.
For a moment neither of them moved.
The river whispered behind her. The wind brushed through branches. A bird cried somewhere high in the trees.
And still they stared, like the entire world had narrowed to this one point where their eyes met.
His lips parted — he looked like he wanted to speak, but didn’t yet dare. His hands flexed nervously at his sides, a subtle, human echo of how his wolf self would shift his weight when unsure. The golden light settled on his shoulders, outlining him with a soft glow.
He looked unreal. And at the same time, absolutely, undeniably real.
Her voice almost failed her when she finally whispered:
— It’s you…
He swallowed hard and took one slow, steady step closer. Then another. The grass whispered around his ankles. By the time he stopped, he was close enough for her to notice the faint flush of nerves on his cheeks, the way his breath trembled, the way he held himself like he wasn’t sure whether this was a dream or the most important moment of his life.
His eyes softened and he took a deep breath, as if collecting all his will in his hands. Human hands.
And with a voice roughened from disuse, warm and low like distant thunder softened by dusk, he finally said:
— Hi.