Chapter 3 A Glimmer in the Valley

The cold rain poured down, soaking my thin clothes until they clung to my skin, stealing the last bit of warmth I had.

I clutched my ragged bag of stuff, slogging through the muddy trail. Behind me, the Bloodclaw mansion faded into the rain, until I couldn’t see it anymore.

Thrown out with nothing but the clothes on my back. Broke. Alone. That’s my life now. The “severance” Lucas gave me? His mom’s thugs snatched it the second I stepped out—hiding in the shadows, saying it was “family property to liquidate.” They didn’t even let me keep that last little lie of dignity. They wanted me desperate.

Hunger, cold, tired—they gnawed at me like wolves. I had nowhere to go. The werewolf lands stretched for miles, but not one spot would take a girl the Bloodclaws had kicked out, called “barren.”

I could feel low-rank werewolves watching from the bushes, their eyes mean—like I was easy prey.

My foot slipped, and I fell into a mud puddle. Cold muck filled my nose and mouth. I scrambled up, covered in dirt, miserable.

My strength was leaving me. My vision got blurry. Maybe dying out here would be better? An abandoned girl, gone quiet—wasn’t that what they wanted?

No.

Lucas’s cold face, his mom’s cruel smile—they burned in my head, hot as brands.

I won’t give up!

Why should I die like this? Humiliated?

I bit down hard, used my last strength to crawl out of the puddle, and huddled against a dead tree. It didn’t block much wind or rain, but it was something. My eyes started to close. My body went numb…

Just as I was about to slip into darkness, a warm presence came near. Not the mean aura of a werewolf—something clean, steady, with a faint smell of herbs and wood.

I forced my eyes open. Through blurry vision, I saw a tall figure kneeling in front of me. He wore an old, faded cloak, his hood pulled low, only his strong jaw and calm, dark eyes visible in the rain.

He didn’t say anything. Just held out a warm flatbread and a water skin full of clean water. The smell of food woke up my stomach, made me want to survive.

I watched him, scared. In this world, kindness usually meant a trap.

He must’ve seen my fear. He set the food and water on the ground, close enough for me to reach, then stepped back—far enough to feel safe.

“Eat,” his voice was deep, like wind through pine trees, calm and soft. “Surviving’s the only thing that matters right now.”

"Was this salvation arriving in my darkest moment?" I looked into his eyes—no pity, no plans, just quiet kindness. I reached out, trembling, grabbed the bread, and ate like I was starving. The warm food in my stomach chased away some cold, gave me a little strength.

When I finished, he handed me a thick, worn cloak—dry, even if it was old. “Put this on. Follow me. There’s a cave nearby, out of the rain.”

I hesitated, but I was too cold to say no. I stumbled after him. He didn’t help me, but he walked slow enough for me to keep up.

The cave was small, but dry. He built a small fire. Orange flames danced, warming the air. Wrapped in the cloak, I sat by the fire, staring at the flames—shocked I was still alive.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, my voice scratchy.

He poked the fire, not looking at me. “The despair in your eyes doesn’t match the light in your soul.”

I froze. Light in my soul? Me? A girl the Bloodclaws called worthless, thrown away?

He turned to me, his eyes under the hood like he could see through me. “Blood tests aren’t the whole truth. Especially when… the people doing the testing don’t know what they’re looking at.”

My heart jumped! What did he mean? What saw he see?

“Who are you?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Just a wanderer,” he said, quiet, like he didn’t want to talk about himself. “Call me Elliott Johnson.”

Elliott. I memorized the name. The mysterious werewolf who gave me hope when I had none.

Maybe fate hadn’t forgotten me after all…