Chapter 39

Chris

I tensed as the doe stamped her hoof again, her ears pinned back in a clear warning. My instincts screamed at me to shift, to bare my teeth and snarl back—to make myself as big and threatening as possible to scare this potential threat away from Ava. It was known, in the human world, that a doe protecting her baby could kill someone.

But before I could act, Ava was already moving forward with slow, purposeful steps, her hands held up in a placating gesture.

“Easy, girl,” she crooned, her voice low and soothing. “Easy now. We’re not going to hurt you or your little one.”

Without entirely meaning to, I took a step forward behind Ava. In that moment, the doe’s eyes swiveled in my direction, her nostrils flaring as she stamped her hoof at me. A growl rumbled in her throat, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

"Chris," Ava said without looking back at me. "Stay where you are. Let me handle this."

Despite every fiber of my being screaming at me to protect her, to pull her back behind me, I forced myself to remain still and simply watch with bated breath. Ava moved closer and closer to the skittish doe and the trembling fawn until she was just a few feet away.

Then, impossibly, she crouched down and held out one hand, her palm up in a gesture of peace and trust.

The doe stared at her at first, her ears twitching this way and that as her dark eyes bored into Ava’s gaze. I could see the tense lines of her powerful shoulders, the slight shift of her weight onto her back haunches in preparation to flee or charge at any moment.

But then, a miracle happened. The doe straightened slightly, the lines of her body relaxing ever so slightly. A gentle huffing breath ruffled Ava’s loose hair as she bent her long neck and gave Ava’s outstretched palm a cautious sniff.

I could scarcely believe what I was witnessing. The trust, the peace, the understanding that seemed to flow between Ava and this wild creature whose only instinct should have been to run or attack.

And when the doe took one step aside, allowing Ava access to her baby, I felt as if I were witnessing something out of a fairytale.

Slowly, gently, Ava reached out and stroked the fawn’s trembling flank with a gentle touch as the mother deer watched patiently.

“Chris,” Ava called out again, her voice barely above a whisper, “there are some raspberry leaves growing back by that stump we saw back there. Bring me a few of the leaves, quickly.”

I blinked, part of me still stunned by what I had just seen. But Ava’s voice snapped me back to the present, and I whirled on my heel to retrace our steps and find what she needed.

When I returned a few minutes later, the leaves clutched tightly in my fist, I found Ava crouched beside the fawn, murmuring as she gently stroked its trembling head. The mother doe still stood guard just a pace or two away, watching Ava’s every move with those intelligent dark eyes but not making any move to stand in the way.

“Here,” I said, holding out the leaves as I approached. The doe pinned her ears back at me briefly, but didn’t lash out like I feared.

“Thank you,” Ava murmured, taking the offered leaves. Then, without hesitation, she brought them to her mouth and began chewing them into a paste, her brow furrowing in concentration.

I could only watch, utterly transfixed, as Ava then scooped the crushed leaf mixture onto her fingers before gently applying it to the sluggishly bleeding wound on the fawn’s leg. Within just a few moments, the fawn’s sides expanded with a deep, relieved breath. And mere moments after that, the flow of blood had stopped completely.

After tending to the injury, Ava simply sat back on her haunches, her shoulders rising and falling with her own relieved sigh. The doe took a step closer, then another, until her warm breath stirred Ava’s hair. My fingers twitched at my sides, longing to pull Ava away, but I knew I couldn’t get involved. Not now.

The two regarded each other for a long, weighted moment, their eyes locked in some sort of understanding that was far beyond my comprehension. Then, with a knowing look in her eyes, the doe dipped her head in Ava’s direction in what could only be seen as a gesture of gratitude.

Huffing out one more breath over Ava’s shoulders, the doe then turned and nudged the fawn to its feet before leading it off into the shadowed trees once more.

For a long while after they had melted back into the forest, I could only stare at Ava in amazed silence, scarcely able to find the words. Finally, I exhaled a low breath, shaking my head slowly.

“How did you... What just happened?”

Ava turned to me, her expression soft and content in a way I had never seen before. A fond smile curved her lips as she regarded me.

“You’ve forgotten after all of your years away. But the animals here,” she began quietly, “are different from the ones in the human world. More… aware. More in tune with nature and its energies. And with us.” She paused, pursing her lips as she seemed to search for the right explanation.

“You see, in the human world, so much of the natural world has been tainted—by pollution, industry, overhunting and deforestation. It’s sapped the wild creatures of their primal essence over generations. Made them little more than unthinking beasts guided solely by instinct.”

I nodded slowly, following her logic even as my mind raced to catch up.

“But here…” Ava’s gaze drifted back toward the treeline where the doe and fawn had disappeared. “The magic in this land runs far deeper than most realize. It keeps the forests and animals closely tied to their original state—fierce yet intelligent, primal yet spiritual. In harmony with nature in a way humans can scarcely comprehend anymore.”

She turned that warm smile on me once more, her eyes sparking with something like wonder and realization.

“That’s why we werewolves hold such reverence for our packs’ territories and hunting grounds,” I said softly.

She nodded. “Yes. Not just for the physical resources they provide, but for the connection to the primal world they represent. It’s why so many of us keep to a plant-based diet, and those who do eat meat handle the remains with such ceremony and respect. To a wolf, taking another animal’s life is no small matter—we honor their sacrifice by utilizing every part of them and ensuring their spirits can move on peacefully.”

I opened my mouth, a thousand more questions swirling in my mind. But any words I might have uttered died on my lips as Ava stepped closer, close enough for the floral scent of her hair to wash over me in an intoxicating wave.

Then, she was rising up on her toes, her soft hands cupping my face with a tenderness that stole my breath away. Her lips met mine in a warm, tender kiss that seemed to linger for an eternity. Just one kiss, but it felt like the entire world.

When we finally broke apart, my head swam with dizzying euphoria. Ava’s eyes were dark as she looked up at me, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as though she, too, had been left breathless by the kiss.

Then, a soft glow in my peripheral vision drew my gaze over her shoulder, and my lips curved into a smile at the sight that met me. All around us, the trees and bushes had come alive with tiny flickering pinpricks of light—fireflies, thousands upon thousands of them winking in and out of existence like living constellations.

One drifted closer, its gentle golden glow illuminating the delicate features of Ava’s face. Without thinking, I reached out to gently cup the little creature in my palm, marveling at the warmth of its pulsing light in my hand.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, unable to tear my eyes away from the small insect.

A soft huff of laughter beside me made me glance up to find Ava’s gaze locked onto my face as though she had been looking at me all this time.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Beautiful.”