A Friend

Shit, it is colder than I initially thought.

But tonight, the cold is a welcome distraction, numbing me in a way that my own mind refuses to.

The night air wraps around me like an icy cloak. And no matter how many times it has been, it’s always unforgiving and relentless. My breath sharpens the ache inside me, and yet, as much as it hurts, it’s the only thing keeping me anchored. I stand beneath the old oak by the side of our house, feeling the rough bark against my back as I slide down to the ground, letting myself collapse in the dark.

This tree has grown with me, but my heart is still in my childhood when my other was here. I wish I could hug her.

Moreover, my wolf is furious with me. And why shouldn’t she be? I didn’t fight. I didn’t push back, didn’t challenge Alpha Valen when he uttered those words that shattered everything inside me.

I look up at the sky and sigh when a faint rustle breaks the silence. I look up, squinting into the shadows, and there, bathed in the dim glow of the moon, I see a figure emerging from the trees.

The figure steps closer and I squint my eyes at the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. I recognize him.

Aric is a rogue who’s been around our pack’s territory for years. Unpredictable and sly, but he has permission from Alpha Reylan to stay in the pack territory. He is a wanderer, drifting between packs, a wolf without an anchor. He often came and went without purpose, but tonight, something was unsettling in his gaze as it landed on me.

Lily one time told me Aric had a crush on me. And every time I look at him, I am reminded of that fact.

"Late night for a lone wolf," he says taking a seat beside me.

Aric is also a good listener and if you want advice, go to him.

I meet his gaze and study him in the moonlight trying to make sense of him. Aric is tall, with lean, corded muscle, his frame effortlessly powerful, like a predator constantly poised to strike. His hair, dark as midnight, falls in tousled waves to his shoulders, giving him a slightly wild, unrestrained look. His eyes are what always draws me, though, the colour of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, eyes that hold stories he’s never told. There’s something ancient in them, a guardedness that speaks of a past he doesn’t share, a life lived on the fringes, where no laws bind and every bond is a risk.

His gaze softens as he meets mine, though there’s a wariness there too, a reluctance that’s as familiar to me as my own. Aric doesn’t ask questions and doesn’t push. He’s a silent presence, the kind who observes, who waits, who listens without judgment. If words are weights, his are carefully chosen stones, small but heavy.

We sit in silence. And his presence is like a balm, even though I don’t know why. I don’t expect him to comfort me or solve anything. I’ve learned by now that life doesn’t work that way. But just sitting here, the two of us, with only the sounds of the night around us… it’s a relief.

“Running from something?” he asks softly breaking the quiet.

I glance up at him, hesitating, but something in his expression tells me he already knows. Aric has that way about him, like he’s seen it all, like he’s walked through hell and come out with the scars to prove it.

“Myself,” I whisper, my voice barely louder than the wind. And it’s true. I didn’t fight. When Alpha Valen said those words, cold and final, I just stood there, numb, unable to lift a finger to defend myself. The rejection sank in like poison, spreading through me, hollowing me out until I felt like a shadow of who I was.

A bitter smile touches Aric’s lips, and he nods, almost like he understands. “Sometimes,” he says, voice low, “it’s easier to surrender than to keep fighting.”

His words settle over me, heavy, real. I meet his gaze, and for a moment, I feel the pull of those storm-grey eyes, like a quiet invitation to share the weight I’ve been carrying alone.

“Sometimes,” I reply, “but surrender leaves scars too.”

The faintest smile crosses his lips.

“You have that look about you,” he chuckles. “Like a wolf with nowhere to run.”

I chuckle. True.

I’ve always felt it—that feeling of being lost, of running in circles with no way out. But hearing it from someone else’s lips, from his lips… it hits differently. He doesn’t say it with pity or judgment, just quiet understanding, as if he’s been there too, a wolf forever roaming with nowhere to go.

“Maybe that’s what I am,” I say. “A wolf without a place. Without a purpose.”

He shifts closer, and I catch the faint scent of pine and smoke on him, wild and earthy, grounding. There’s an ease in his movements, like he’s made peace with this life of wandering, of never truly belonging anywhere. But there’s something else too—an edge, a barely hidden frustration, a longing for something he can’t quite grasp.

His fingers graze mine, a small, fleeting touch, but it sends a spark racing up my arm, lighting up something dark inside me for too long. His hand lingers there, warm against the chill of the night, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed.

“You don’t need a purpose,” he murmurs, eyes tracing the lines of my face as if he’s memorizing every shadow. “Sometimes, just surviving is fucking enough.”

The words catch me off guard. For so long, I’ve been searching for something to make all this worth it—a reason, a purpose, something to give the pain meaning. But maybe he’s right. Maybe just surviving, just holding on, is enough.

“Maybe,” I whisper back tucking my roaming hair behind my ear.

He tilts his head, his gaze slipping to my lips for the briefest moment, and I feel my heart hammering in my chest. I don’t know what it is about Aric—maybe it’s his quiet nature the way he seems to understand without asking, or the way he carries his darkness like an old friend. But sitting here, next to him, for the first time in a long time, I feel seen.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he mutters in thin air. “Most people wouldn’t survive what you’ve been through.”

I look away. He doesn’t know the half of it, doesn’t know the nights I’ve spent alone, fighting the urge to run, to disappear. But somehow, it feels like he understands anyway like he sees the parts of me I’ve buried, the scars I’ve hidden even from myself.

The silence stretches between us again, comfortable now, like an old friend. His hand stays on mine, grounding me, and I let myself lean into his warmth, just for a moment, just to remember what it feels like to be held.

“Thank you,” I murmur, but he hears it. His lips curve into the faintest smile, and there’s a softness in his eyes I’ve never seen before, a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice as soft as mine.

We sit like that for a while, side by side under the moonlight, two broken souls finding solace in each other’s silence. And for the first time, the darkness doesn’t feel so heavy, so endless. For the first time, I feel like I might be able to survive this. Like maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to face it alone.