Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Bella checked the contents of her worn canvas pack for the third time before tightening the drawstring. She had three large jars, two spools of cotton twine, a bundle of wax paper squares, her lunch, a few bottles of water, and her pocketknife— freshly sharpened the night before. Her calf skin gloves were tucked into her pocket, and she’d already tied her hair back to keep it from catching on any tree branches.
She stepped into her boots and tugged on a faded jacket, then called over her shoulder, “I’ll be back for dinner.”
Charlie didn’t answer at first. The muffled sound of the baseball game he was watching filtered in from the living room. Then came a grunt— acknowledgment, not objection. That was good enough.
He’d been quieter since Gran passed. Not cold, just… turned inward. Bella understood. She didn’t push. She appreciated the silence sometimes too— but she missed his laugh. She missed the casual joy that used to fill the corners of the house, especially when Billy used to drop by and tease him.
Maybe that would come back again. Eventually.
The day was gray, but dry. Bella slid behind the wheel of her truck and headed toward the reservation. She preferred to hunt for herbs at the edges of the forest there— the woods grew thicker and were less touched by development. Fewer hikers also meant more intact flora.
As the tires hummed against the road, Bella let her thoughts drift, as they often did when she was alone. Which she often was these days. Jake had been too busy to spend time with her often, though she enjoyed when they got the chance.
Her mother had left when she was small— chasing warmth, art, and things Bella couldn’t fault her for wanting. So Bella stayed with her father and his mother. Charlie gave her stability and a warm, calm home. Gran gave her everything else.
Gran had never called herself a ‘witch.’ She said too many people used the word nowadays, that it no longer meant their kind.
Bella had asked what their kind was. Gran had just told her to pay attention to what she was trying to teach her.
Inwardly, Bella accepted the title. Her gran had never given her a better alternative, after all.
From the time Bella could match colors and shapes, she’d been taught to associate them with something more. Every breakfast came with a quiz— what stones matched sleep, what color soothed anger, what herbs healed burns.
Gran had taught her how to gather herbs so that they could keep growing, how to cleanse stones before use, how to pair different colors, flowers, and crystals, with intention.
Bella had learned poultices and salves while she learned how to cook. She had learned how to read and write by copying down recipes for those remedies.
Balance mattered most. Everything done with intention had a cost, even if it wasn’t obvious. Gran had made that clear early on.
Charlie didn’t talk about what she and Gran did. But he didn’t stop it either. He warned Bella to keep it private, especially around town, and that was fine. She didn’t want to explain herself anyway.
But he appreciated the muscle salve when his back acted up, and Bella noticed how he refilled the jars of herbs that could be purchased from the store without ever saying a word about it.
Magic, for her, was never showy. It wasn’t Latin chants or waving a wand, like in the movies. It was quiet work done with care. She carved protective runes into the edges of fence posts to keep out sickness. She tucked calming charms into pillowcases for better sleep. She made tinctures that worked faster than over-the-counter medicine ever claimed to.
Today, she needed stinging nettle for inflammation tinctures. Yarrow, if she could find any healthy bunches, for its blood-staunching properties. Maybe salal, if the local patches had recovered enough from the blight it had suffered last season. Gran used to swear by salal’s use in poultices for healing wounds, though Bella always found it more useful for treating colds.
She pulled into the turnoff near the trailhead.
The forest smelled wet, like it always did, even if it hadn’t rained in the last day. She shut off the engine and stepped down carefully, bracing against the soft earth as her boots met moss. Bella adjusted the strap on her bag and hummed to herself as she slipped past the treeline and into the green.
Bella adjusted her footing as she stepped over a crooked root, eyes lighting up as she spotted the wide, round leaves of plantain. A thick patch was just beyond the normal path she took. She headed toward it happily, excited at the idea of everything she could do with the plant.
It was long lasting once dried. As a tea it was excellent for respiratory problems, but she preferred to turn it into a salve all on its own. It drew out infection in a way she had never seen before, drawing taint to the surface so that it could be lanced. It also healed wounds very quickly, accomplishing what would normally take weeks in only a few days, but it had a tendency to scar.
As she slowly made her way along the thick, healthy patch, gathering only a few of the thick, broad leaves from each plant, the canopy overhead grew thicker. Sunlight filtered through in broken ribbons, pale and thin.
Her skin prickled suddenly with awareness— she was being watched.
She stopped moving.
There was a rustle to her left.
Bella turned slowly, breath held.
She expected a deer. Maybe a black bear. Even a mountain lion wouldn’t have shocked her out here.
But it wasn’t any of those.
A wolf stepped out from behind a thick spruce tree, one heavy paw at a time. Its fur was a brilliant, clean silver that gleamed faintly even in the low light. It was massive— at least as tall at the shoulder as her shoulder — with thick muscle beneath its coat, and paws large enough to be large dinner plates.
It didn’t bare its teeth. It didn’t growl.
It simply stood there, watching her.
Her lungs caught mid-breath. It was beautiful.
The eyes were what held her in place.
They were wild, yes, but not empty like the glossy look some predators had. These eyes were reading her. Judging her. Trying to decide something.
Bella didn’t move.
The wolf didn’t either.
After several heartbeats, she slowly shifted her foot back, sliding backward a bit. Not enough to flee— just to give herself some space. The knife in her bag felt like a false comfort— it wouldn’t help her much if the wolf decided to attack her.
It didn’t.
Its large, thick ears flicked once. Its chest rose and fell with a single, unhurried breath.
Bella exhaled through her nose. “Well,” she murmured. “Aren’t you gorgeous?”
The wolf blinked at her, tilting its head.
She should’ve been afraid. Maybe she was, a little. But not the way she should be. Her hands weren’t shaking. Her thoughts weren’t scrambled. She didn’t feel like prey.
If anything, she felt… excited. Like this moment, this meeting, had been destined.
There was something there— a strange tug behind her ribs, low and steady. Pulling at her, encouraging her to go to the wolf. To be near it, to press herself against its warm side and breathe in its scent.
Gran used to say a real familiar couldn’t be bought, summoned, or trained. “It comes when you are ready,” she’d said, wiping her hands on a cloth after sealing a ward near the garden to keep deer out. “And not a moment sooner.”
Bella’s throat felt dry. She didn’t think this was a familiar bond. She didn't remember her gran talking about feeling like she needed to be close to her familiar.
It was obviously something other than a wild animal though. She decided to trust her instincts.
She looked away first, her gaze shifting to the ground where her jar— half full of plantain— sat waiting. She moved slowly as she knelt, keeping her posture relaxed and her breathing even.
She reached into the patch of plantain and began gathering again, hands practiced and sure.
She didn’t glance over her shoulder.
But she could feel it behind her— solid, quiet, unmoving.
The wolf stayed behind her, close enough that she could feel it, but not close enough to touch.
It moved when she moved, but not in a way that felt threatening. It drifted around her with slow, deliberate steps. Wide loops around her position, like it was keeping watch.
Bella kept her posture relaxed as she continued to collect plantain, letting herself settle back into the rhythm of foraging. Her jar was nearly full.
She glanced over her shoulder once. He had settled a few yards away beneath a cedar, paws crossed and head raised, watching her silently.
She spoke softly to herself— a habit she had formed after Jake had become so busy.
“Plantain is for wounds and infection,” she murmured, setting the last leaves into her jar and closing it. “I think I’ll go for Yarrow next. It’s good for clotting. If I can find any good bunches. Sometimes the wet gets to it and it will struggle.”
She pulled her gloves on and pulled out her knife from her bag. The stems of yarrow were particularly fibrous, and she didn't want to accidentally cut herself while struggling to harvest the flowers— she wouldn’t feel it, with yarrow’s numbing properties.
The wolf moved closer without warning.
When she looked up, it was within ten feet now. Its head was lowered slightly, watching.
Bella arched her brow. “Are you curious?”
The wolf didn’t blink.
She turned back and angled the knife carefully at the stem, slicing it cleanly. She bunched the stalks together and wrapped them in twine, tying them with two precise knots, and hung them from a nearby branch until she was ready to leave. The flowers were too delicate to hang it from her bag as she worked.
When she looked up again, the wolf was still there. Still watching.
She held his gaze for a moment before blowing out a breath through her nose and wiping her knife on a cloth tucked into her coat pocket. “Suit yourself,” she muttered.
Her stomach rumbled.
Bella glanced at the sky. It was hard to tell the time with how little light made it through the canopy, but her body knew it was past noon. She straightened slowly and made her way to a boulder nearby. It was half-covered in lichen, but flat enough to sit on.
She pulled her bag into her lap and unwrapped her lunch. A turkey sandwich on slightly squashed sourdough. A red few pre-cut apples. A squeeze pouch of peanut butter.
The wolf had settled down in the clearing, its massive head on its paws as it relaxed.
She stared at it for a long moment, sandwich held halfway to her mouth. Then she tore it in half.
Bella extended her arm outward, holding the bigger half flat on her open palm. “Want some?”
The wolf didn’t move at first. It just looked up at her consideringly.
Then it stood slowly, and stepped forward.
It lowered its massive head and took the sandwich between its fangs with surprising care, the tips of its teeth brushing her skin. She shivered at the contact.
Then it retreated a few yards and laid down in the dirt, paws crossed neatly in front of it. It threw the sandwich into the air and swallowed the entire thing in a single bite.
Bella stared. Then let out a breath that turned into a laugh.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you always eat like that?”
The wolf gave no answer, but she swore it looked pleased with itself.
She bit into her half and chewed slowly, watching it from the corner of her eye.
“It must take a lot to feed something so big,” she said between bites. “I’m surprised you’re not out hunting instead of following me around. You must be constantly hungry.”
The wolf blinked once. Then stretched its front paws out and rested its chin on them. It obviously wasn’t going to go off to hunt.
VI
After lunch, Bella packed away the trash in her bag and stood slowly, brushing moss from her jeans. She turned toward where she thought the path was.
There was no path.
Bella frowned. She pivoted again, scanning the edges of the clearing, looking for the patch of ferns she’d passed earlier, or the broken log she’d stepped over. None of it looked familiar.
She turned once. Then again. A third time.
Still nothing.
Her brow furrowed. “Great,” she muttered, tugging the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. “Well done, Bella. Lost again.”
Behind her, deliberately heavy footsteps approached. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
The wolf came up beside her without a sound and paused. Then, after a beat, it stepped forward.
Deliberate. Straight ahead.
It took a few steps, then stopped and looked back over its shoulder.
Bella blinked. “You’re not serious?”
The wolf stared at her.
She let out a short breath through her nose and followed.
The massive wolf moved at a steady, unbothered pace, weaving between tree trunks and over low brush with lazy confidence. Its gait was smooth and silent, paws barely making a sound. Bella kept her eyes on its large form and followed where it led.
It was stupid, probably. Letting a giant predator guide her through the woods. But her instincts weren’t screaming for her to flee. If anything, the moment she fell into step behind him, she felt calmer.
It wasn’t like she had a better idea of where to go.
After about ten minutes, the trees began to thin. Then the glint of metal shone through them—
Her truck.
Bella stopped walking.
She stared at it with wide eyes. At the beat-up red frame, the crusted mud along the wheels. It was definitely her truck.
She turned toward the wolf— and found it already watching her.
It was a few feet off to the side, body still, ears up. Its eyes looked amused as they met hers.
Bella huffed a breath that was half a laugh. “Well then,” she said softly. “Thank you, beautiful.”
Its tail gave a single, slow wag behind it.