The druid stepped closer, their expression infuriatingly calm. “If I had warned you, would you have gone to Wolfe’s side? To the mating? To the bond?”
My jaw clenched. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.” Their voice softened. “You were not ready to feel the Hollow. Not then. Not until you were anchored.”
Anchored? To Wolfe. To the mate bond. To this land, finally waking under my feet.
“I am not a ship lost in a storm,” I told them sharply. I exhaled shakily. “I didn’t need to beanchoredto a man. I’ve been here all my life.” I crouched down, my fingers pressing into the rugs that covered the ground. “Did it really only need Wolfe to be my mate?” I looked up at the druid. “What if he never came?”
The druid huffed out what could have been impatience or amusement. “He was always meant to return.”
I wondered if Wolfe knew that. I doubted it. “It feels…loud.”
“Yes,” they said. “Because it feels what you feel. Rage. Fear. Defiance.” Their eyes narrowed slightly. “But beneath that—claim.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “Claim?”
“The land recognizes that you are the daughter of the Hollow. And it recognizes Wolfe as a guardian of the Hollow. The decree was an insult to both truths. The Hollow responds accordingly.”
I rubbed my fingertips along my forearm, the skin prickling. That strange tug in my chest pulsed again—subtle but insistent. “What does it want me to do?”
The druid’s lips curved faintly. “Stay standing.”
I blinked. “That’s it? Stay standing?”
“For now,” they said. “This is not the moment for ritual or confrontation. The land is stirring, but it has not chosen to act. It listens. It watches. Through Wolfe as alpha. Through you.”
My stomach twisted. “That feels like pressure.”
“Does it?” They looked me over once. “Or is it purpose?” the druid asked gently. “Purpose often feels like weight.”
I stared at them, frustration knotting in my throat. “You always speak in riddles. Just tell me what you’re not saying.”
The druid folded their hands. “If the Pack Council succeeds in dissolving Blueridge Hollow, the land will retaliate. Quietly at first. Then…not quietly.”
Thelandwould retaliate? Cold swept down my spine. “Retaliate how?”
“With imbalance,” they said. “With unrest. With wolves losing themselves to instincts sharper than their minds. With storms born from old fury.” Their gaze lifted to mine, steady and unflinching. “The Hollow has been subjugated before. It remembers.”
Each word of warning felt like stones settling on my ribs, restricting my lungs from expanding. “You mean…this has happened before?” I whispered.
The druid nodded. “In another age. With another Pack Council. And the aftermath was…severe.”
The Hollow thrummed beneath my feet, like it recognized the memory even if I didn’t. I braced my hands on my knees, breathing through the sudden heaviness. “What do I do with this? With all of this?”
“Feel it,” the druid said. “Thatis your role. To listen tothe Hollow when others ignore its cries. To stand with it when the Pack Council tries to sever what cannot be severed.” They reached out, fingertips brushing the air near my shoulder but not touching me. “You were born among the roots of the Heartwood, Rowen. This land remembers you. Do not fear its voice.”
I stood slowly, that tug under my ribs tightening like a tether. I heard what they were saying. The Hollow wasn’t just reacting.
It was…calling.
Callingme.
“Will it get stronger?” I asked.
The druid tilted their head. “The closer the Pack Council comes, the louder it will scream.”
Holy Goddess, I was not the person for this job. I wished Wolfe were here. My breath hitched. “That doesn’t sound protective.”
