For several long seconds after the rogues disappeared into the forest, neither of us moved.
The clearing remained exactly as it had been during the fight, but now the energy had changed. The air felt calmer, yet the tension still lingered like the echo of a storm that had only just passed.
My breathing slowly steadied as the last traces of adrenaline faded from my body. The shift back to human form always left a strange heaviness in my muscles, especially after a sudden fight.
Across the clearing, Rowan still watched the forest.
He hadn't relaxed. Not even slightly.
His posture remained steady and alert, his eyes focused on the dark line of trees where the rogues had vanished.
"They're gone," I said after a moment.
"For now," he replied.
The way he said it made it sound less like reassurance and more like simple fact.
I frowned slightly.
"You think they'll come back?"
"Rogues don't like losing."
His gaze remained fixed on the forest.
"And they don't like witnesses."
The implication settled over me slowly.
Witnesses.
Meaning me.
I crossed my arms lightly, trying to ignore the cold night air against my skin.
"Well, they're not getting another chance tonight."
Rowan finally turned toward me.
His eyes moved briefly over my shoulder, checking the surrounding forest once more before settling on my face.
"You're injured."
I glanced down instinctively.
A shallow line of blood ran across my forearm where one of the rogues' claws had caught me during the fight. I hadn't even noticed it before.
"It's nothing," I said.
Rowan stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
Just close enough to examine the cut.
"It will heal," he said calmly, "but it's deeper than you think."
I almost rolled my eyes.
"It's a scratch."
"Rogues carry infection."
That made me pause.
He wasn't exaggerating. Rogues who lived outside packs often carried untreated wounds and diseases that could make even a small injury dangerous.
I sighed.
"Fine.."
Rowan crouched briefly, tearing a clean strip of cloth from the inside lining of his sleeve before handing it to me.
"Wrap it."
"You're very direct," I said.
"I find it saves time."
I tied the cloth around my arm while watching him carefully.
Up close, it was even easier to notice the details I had missed earlier. The way he moved, the calm confidence in every motion, the quiet awareness of everything happening around him.
Rowan didn't behave like a wandering wolf.
He behaved like someone used to command.
My wolf stirred again.
Searching some clues.
Trying to find recognition.
I pushed the thought away.
"So," I said after a moment, tightening the cloth around the wound, "do you always spend your nights scaring off rogue wolves?"
Rowan's mouth curved slightly.
"Only when they're being inconvenient."
"That's one way to describe it."
The corner of his mouth twitched again, though the expression faded quickly.
For a moment we simply stood there, the forest quiet around us.
Then Rowan spoke again.
"Where were you planning to go?"
The question caught me slightly off guard.
I glanced toward the split in the path I had noticed earlier.
One trail curved north, disappearing into the mountains. The other stretched west toward the distant human towns.
"I hadn't decided yet. And it is none of your business."
Rowan followed my gaze.
"The mountains are dangerous this time of year," he said.
"I can handle mountains."
"I'm sure you can."
His tone wasn't mocking.
Just calm.
"But you're injured, exhausted, and alone."
I frowned.
"You've made that point already."
"And it's still true."
I turned toward him slightly.
"You don't know me well enough to make that judgment."
"No," Rowan agreed quietly.
"But I know enough."
Silence settled between us again.
The truth was, I didn't like how accurate his words were.
Tonight had been… too much.
The rejection.
Leaving the pack.
The long walk through the forest.
The fight.
Every part of me was beginning to feel the weight of it.
Rowan studied me for a moment.
Then he said something unexpected.
"You shouldn't travel alone tonight."
I stiffened slightly.
"And what do you suggest?"
"That you wait until morning."
"Here?"
"Somewhere safer than an open path."
I crossed my arms again.
"And how exactly do you plan to help with that? I suppose you give command to me for that too."
Rowan didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he glanced once more toward the forest, listening.
Then he looked back at me.
"I know a place not far from here," he said.
"Shelter."
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
"And why would you help me?"
The question hung in the air between us.
Rowan held my gaze steadily.
"For someone who just fought four rogues beside me," he said calmly, "you ask a lot of suspicious questions."
"That's because I don't know you."
"That's fair."
He didn't seem offended.
"If it helps," he added, "I'm not asking for anything in return."
"Yet."
"Yet."
At least he was honest.
My wolf stirred again, restless but not alarmed.
Trusting strangers had never been something I did easily.
But walking deeper into rogue territory alone tonight would be worse.
I looked toward the dark forest path ahead of me.
Then back at Rowan.
"You said it's not far?"
"No."
"How far exactly?"
"An hour," he said.
"Maybe less."
I hesitated.
Then finally sighed.
"Fine."
Rowan nodded once.
Relief didn't show on his face, but something about his posture relaxed slightly.
"Stay close," he said.
There it was again.
That quiet command in his voice.
I raised an eyebrow.
"You say that like you expect me to listen."
Rowan glanced back at me as he began walking toward the deeper forest.
"I say it," he replied calmly, "because it's the safest option."
I followed him reluctantly.
The forest swallowed us quickly as we left the clearing behind.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The only sounds were the quiet crunch of leaves under our feet and the distant movement of night animals somewhere deeper in the woods.
Eventually I realized something.
Rowan walked like someone who knew this forest very well.
Not like a traveler passing through.
Like someone who belonged here.
That thought made me uneasy again.
Because it meant one thing.
Rowan wasn't just wandering through the borderlands.
He had a reason for being here.
And somehow, I had the feeling that reason was about to become my problem too.