A Wolf's True Mate

CHAPTER ONE The air thrums with the pulse of preparation, vibrant and alive, as if the very streets of Golden Paw are awakening from a long slumber. Banners of rich gold and deep maroon flutter above cobbled lanes, and stalls rise like blossoms in an eager garden. I weave through clusters of shifters, all abuzz with anticipation for the summer festival—a celebration of unity and strength in our secluded town. "Skye!" A voice, bright and familiar, breaks me free from the reverie of the preparations. I turn. It's Lila, her wolfish grin wide beneath mischievous amber eyes. "You're not helping?" "Was just about to," I lie, my gaze flitting past her to where Ford stands, overseeing the construction of the main stage with a commander's focus. His brown hair catches sunlight, his posture that of the steadfast Alpha he's become. "Good." Lila nudges me forward before melting back into the crowd. Taking a slow breath, I approach Ford, the noise of the festival preparations dimming with each step. He hasn't noticed me yet, too engrossed in directing a pair of shifters hoisting up a banner. "Ford?" My voice is softer than intended, but it halts him mid-gesture. "Skye?" Surprised flickers across his face, quickly masked by a leader’s composure. "What brings you here? Aren’t you on laundry duty today?" "Thought I'd lend a hand," I say, maintaining a casual tone despite the quickening of my heart. "Ah." His green eyes flicker with something unreadable. "That's good, we could—" "Alpha Ford!" The call slices through our bubble, and a young shifter with an urgent expression jogs over, deference woven into his stance. "The western perimeter guards need your decision on the new patrol routes." Ford's shoulders stiffen, and I recognize the weight settling upon them—the weight of his father's legacy, the pack's safety, his world. "Give me a moment," he tells the messenger, who nods and steps back. "Sorry, Skye," Ford sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Duty calls." "Of course." I force a smile. "It's important." "See you at the festival though, yeah? We'll catch up properly then." There's a hint of the old Ford, the one I grew up with, in that half-promise. "Wouldn't miss it," I reply, watching as he strides away, the embodiment of responsibility and command. Left amidst the bustling preparations, I can't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for simpler times—as fleeting as they might have been. I weave through the clusters of shifters, all abuzz with excitement for the festival. The warm glow of twilight dapples over the cobblestone streets, setting the colorful decorations aglow. Bunting in a myriad of hues flutters above me, while lanterns shaped like paw prints begin to flicker to life, casting whimsical shadows around the town square. As I help string up another row of lanterns, laughter and chatter rise around me like a familiar melody. My fingers work deftly, tying knots that won't slip, but my mind isn't on the task—it drifts back to Ford's strained smile and the firm resolve in his eyes. It used to be so different between us, when we were kids scrambling through these streets without a care, our biggest worry being who would win at hide and seek. "Need a hand with that?" Tara, a fellow Omega, offers with a grin as she approaches me, her hands already reaching out to steady the ladder. "Thanks." I flash her a grateful look, relieved for the distraction. "It's almost done here." "Looks fantastic," she remarks, stepping back to admire our handiwork. "Skye, you've got an eye for this." "Guess it comes from watching so many festivals come and go." I descend the ladder, feeling the ache of memories that won't quite fit into the present anymore. "Hey," Tara nudges me gently, her brown eyes searching mine. "You okay? You seem miles away." "Fine," I assure her, offering a half-hearted smile. "Just lost in thought, I guess." "About Ford?" She doesn't miss much, Tara. Her perceptiveness sometimes reminds me of my own hidden senses. "Maybe a little." My gaze tracks to where Ford disappeared, now just a shadow blending with the rest of the evening bustle. "We used to be inseparable." "Times change, Skye. He's Alpha now," Tara says softly, as if reading the undertone of loss in my voice. "I know." The words are barely a whisper, acceptance laced with a tinge of sorrow. "He has the whole pack to worry about. His responsibilities have grown beyond us just...being friends." "Doesn't mean your friendship mattered any less," Tara reassures me, resting her hand on my shoulder in solidarity. "True," I concede, straightening up as a new resolve settles within me. "But I can't dwell on the past. We both have our roles in the pack." "Exactly! And tonight, we're going to make sure this is the best festival yet. Come on, let's finish up here." Tara's enthusiasm is infectious, pulling me back from the edge of melancholy, reminding me that there's still joy to be found in the now. "Let's do it." The determination in my voice surprises even me. There's work to be done, and I'm not one to shirk my duties—even if part of me yearns for yesterday. I grab more lanterns, focusing on the warm light they cast, letting it guide me back to the present, where my pack needs me, where I still belong.