Chapter 4 UNLIKELY GUARDIANS

The forest was quiet after the fight. The rogue wolves lay scattered in the underbrush, their snarls silenced forever. I stood over Aria for a moment, trying to gauge whether she had been injured more seriously than she let on. She was breathing steadily, her small frame trembling slightly, but her eyes were clear, unafraid.

“I can walk,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I am fine.”

I did not believe her. She had the stubbornness of a wolf that refused to back down, the same stubbornness that had probably gotten her into this mess in the first place. I grabbed her arm gently and led her toward the main path, ignoring her protests.

“You should not have come out here alone,” I said, keeping my voice steady, though my jaw ached with tension. “The border is dangerous. You are not ready to face rogues on your own.”

She did not reply. She walked beside me, careful not to trip, her gaze fixed on the forest floor. I could feel the faint tremble of her hand against mine, though she tried to hide it.

The trek back to the pack grounds was tense. Every snapped twig, every rustle of leaves made me spin around, claws half-extended, ready for another attack. But nothing came. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath after the fight.

When we finally reached the edge of the camp, the sun was higher in the sky, casting warm light on the training grounds and the wooden structures that housed the pack. Guards noticed us immediately and broke formation, rushing toward us with concerned expressions.

“Leo,” one of them called, “what happened?”

“They were rogue wolves,” I said shortly, ignoring the worry in their voices. “She is unharmed, mostly.”

Aria did not flinch at the attention. She walked with me toward the central lodge, head held high despite the blood on her sleeve. It was clear that she wanted nothing to do with pity, and I had no intention of offering any.

Inside the lodge, the atmosphere changed. Wolves went about their morning routines, exchanging news and gossip. Some glanced at us, whispers spreading quickly through the room. I ignored it, guiding Aria to a quiet corner where she could rest.

“You need to clean that arm,” I said. “Let me handle it.”

She hesitated but eventually allowed me to examine the shallow cut. It was not deep, but infection could set in if it was ignored. I pulled a small medical kit from my satchel, herbs and antiseptics I carried for my own injuries during patrols. She watched quietly, her fingers twitching nervously, but she said nothing.

“You are quiet,” I said, applying an herb-infused salve to the wound. “Do you always observe without speaking?”

She shrugged. “I listen more than I speak.”

I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to admit. In her silence there was a focus I rarely saw in others, a careful attention to details that could mean the difference between life and death.

Once the wound was cleaned and bandaged, I stepped back. “You are lucky,” I said bluntly. “If I had arrived a minute later, you would not be walking right now.”

Her lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, she looked away, eyes distant, and I could see the gratitude in her expression even if she could not voice it.

“From now on,” I continued, “you do not go anywhere alone. Understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Good. That was settled. At least for now.

Later, as the day wore on, Max’s absence became more pronounced. The camp felt emptier without him, his presence always a grounding force for the younger wolves. I spent the morning reviewing patrol reports and training schedules, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Aria. She had surprised me tonight. She was not fragile. Not weak. She was stubborn, resourceful, and clever in ways I had not expected.

By midday, I had to admit to myself that Max had been right to ask me to watch her. I had resisted because I saw her as a child, someone I was not equipped to protect emotionally or practically. But now, after seeing her face danger alone, I could not deny that she was capable in her own way.

The afternoon passed quietly. Aria stayed close to the medical lodge, helping the doctor’s apprentice with small tasks and herb gathering. I watched from a distance as she worked with careful precision, her hands steady, her mind focused. There was no hesitation. It was clear that despite her quiet nature, she had determination, patience, and intelligence that rivaled even some of the older wolves in the pack.

By evening, I realized that she had already begun to grow into her own strength. The thought unsettled me more than I expected. Max’s trust had forced me into this role, and now I was seeing her in a way I had never before. She was not just Max’s sister. She was her own person.

When I returned to my own quarters that night, I found myself restless. The events of the day played over and over in my mind. I had saved her, yes, but it was more than that. Watching her face danger and survive on her own, watching her handle herself with calm and focus, it stirred something in me I could not define.

I thought of how I had once considered her a burden, a timid shadow. That perspective had changed in a single day.

I wondered if she realized how much she had impressed me. Probably not. She had always been modest about her skills, quiet even when others praised her.

I shook my head and tried to push the thought away. That was not my concern. My concern was the pack, her safety, and the border. The rest would have to wait.

Sleep did not come easily. I lay awake, listening to the distant sounds of the camp, alert to every noise. My thoughts returned to the forest, to the rogues, to the way Aria had held her ground. She had faced death without hesitation, and I had arrived only just in time.

The memory made my jaw clench. I could not allow that to happen again. I had to keep her safe, no matter what it cost me.

Morning arrived too quickly. The sun cast long shadows across the training grounds, and the camp came alive with the sounds of preparation. Aria was already awake, tending to the herb garden outside the medical lodge. She looked up when she saw me and nodded in greeting.

“You should eat before patrol,” I said, keeping my voice even. “You will need your strength.”

“I ate,” she replied simply.

I frowned. That was not enough. She was strong, yes, but strength alone would not keep her alive in the borderlands. I motioned for her to follow, and reluctantly, she did.

We walked to the edge of the training ground where the patrols began. I briefed the younger wolves, assigning them tasks and positions, but I kept my eyes on her. Every movement she made, every decision she took, I watched.

She surprised me again. She noted weaknesses in the terrain, points where ambushes could occur, and suggested adjustments to our patrol routes. I had to remind myself that she was learning, but her instincts were remarkable.

By the time we returned to the camp, I knew that this arrangement Max had forced on me was not going to be as simple as I had imagined. Aria was no longer the timid shadow I had dismissed. She was sharp, quick, and surprisingly brave.

That night, I found myself standing at the edge of the camp, staring into the dark forest beyond. The border was still dangerous. Rogues roamed the outskirts, and our pack was stretched thin. But now, I had a partner, someone who could handle herself. And while I would never admit it aloud, I was beginning to respect her in a way I had never expected.

Max had been right. She needed protection. And somehow, despite my resistance, I had accepted the role. I would keep her safe. I would guide her. And I would make sure she never faced danger alone again.

The moon rose high above the treetops, casting silver light over the camp. Aria returned from the herb garden, carrying a small bundle. She did not speak, but I could feel her presence, steady and calm, as she walked past me to the medical lodge.

I followed silently, my mind already planning the patrol routes for the next day. The rogues would not wait. The pack needed vigilance. And Aria needed me.

Whether I liked it or not, our paths were now bound together. And there was no turning back.