The scent of damp earth and pine filled Ethan’s lungs as he moved like a shadow through the Willow Creek forest, the boundary to human territory a faint, familiar line under his paws. The weight of the pack’s ruin pressed on him, the desperate need for a true mate a constant, aching thought. A partner. An equal. Not just for him, but for the healing of his people. A sound, soft and melodic, cut through his brooding. Humming. It was a gentle, slightly sad tune that seemed to weave through the trees, pulling him with an instinct deeper than curiosity. He followed the sound to the edge of the clearing, his ink-black fur making him one with the deepening twilight. There she was. A petite woman with a stunning fall of auburn hair, swaying gently on a porch swing, a steaming mug cradled in her hands. She stared out into the forest, her sky-blue eyes distant, her expression a poignant mix of resilience and profound sorrow. Something in Ethan’s chest, human and wolf alike, tightened. He stayed hidden, watching, captivated. He returned the next night, and the next, a silent guardian in the tree line. He learned her rhythms, the way she sighed into her tea, the way she hummed to fill the quiet. Then, one evening, the humming was gone, replaced by the soft, heart-wrenching sound of crying. A low, involuntary growl rumbled in his chest, a primal promise of violence against whoever had put that pain in her voice. The sound made her gasp. She looked up, her tear-streaked face searching the shadows. And she saw him. Those blue eyes, wide with shock, locked with his emerald gaze. Yet, she didn’t scream. She didn’t run. A strange calm held her. Slowly, deliberately, Ethan emerged. He approached the porch with a predator’s grace but lowered his head, sitting back on his haunches to appear smaller, non-threatening. A routine was born. Each night, he would come, and she would wait. She began to talk, pouring her heart out to the seemingly wild creature—her failed marriage, her floundering search for purpose, her secret longing to relinquish control. She eventually patted the porch floorboards in invitation. He would lay his great head in her lap, and she would thread her fingers through his thick fur, finding a solace in him she found nowhere else. Her trust was absolute. One exhausted night, she even fell asleep leaning against his warm, solid side, and he curled his massive form around her, a living blanket, keeping watch until dawn. After a month of this, Ethan knew he could deceive her no longer. The bond between them was too real, too profound to be built on a lie. On a night full of moonlight, he nuzzled her hand one last time as a wolf, then retreated to the edge of the clearing. With a silent prayer to the moon, he began to change.