Page 21 of Wolf Proclaimed

Feeling defeated, I turned from them and stumbled upon a quiet pool of water nestled between two massive tree trunks. I approached slowly, my reflection wavering on the water's surface, a distorted mirror of my confusion and despair.

"Is that me?" I questioned, my voice hushed as if I feared the answer. I studied the wolf looking back at me, its amber eyes wide and fearful. "I don't know you," I murmured, my heart heavy with the realization. It was me in the reflection, but it was me I didn't recognize.

But as I gazed at myself, an odd sensation pricked at the back of my mind. A semblance of familiarity, a faint whisper of a memory that slipped through my grasp just as I was about to hold onto it.

Gazing into the water, I yearned for the reflection to give me anything to help me remember. But it only stared back at me, just as lost and scared. This was my new reality, a reflection of a life I couldn't remember and a future I couldn't predict.

I took a last look at my reflected image in the pool before my instincts kicked in, guiding me back toward the village. As I trotted through the forest, I found myself clinging to a sliver of hope that the familiar sight of the village might somehow bring my memories back.

The smell of wood smoke and fresh bread hit my nostrils long before I reached the village's outskirts. My ears perked up at the distant sound of laughter and children playing. My heart ached with a longing for the familiarity of those sounds, but my mind was a void.

A part of me yearned to be amidst them, but the fear held me back. The confusion, the vulnerability, it was overwhelming. Would they even recognize this wolf as one of their own? I couldn't bear the thought of rejection.

Instead of walking into the village, I found a thicket of underbrush nearby. Hidden within its shadowy depths, I could watch the village from a safe distance. Perhaps a sight, a sound, or a smell would trigger anything. But as hours passed, nothing did.

My muscles ached from the strain, and my mind throbbed from the confusion. With a sigh, I curled up in the underbrush, my head resting on my paws. Exhaustion crept up on me, pulling me into its embrace. The sounds of the distant village became a faint lullaby as I drifted into a restless sleep, still in my wolf form, yearning for memories that remained out of reach.

The voices came to me through the veil of sleep, rising and falling in a cadence that tugged at the depths of my consciousness. "Mira... Mira..." The names echoed in the stillness of the forest, stirring something within me. I stirred in my sleep, the names bouncing around in my hollow mind like echoes in a cavern.

The names sounded familiar yet strange, like a forgotten melody. My ears twitched, and I slowly opened my eyes, immediately tensing as the sounds became louder and closer. The voices belonged to the shadows of my lost memories. I didn't understand why they were calling that name or why it caused a stir within me.

Peeking out from the underbrush, I saw two figures emerging from the trees. The taller one, a male, had a strong, musky scent that tugged at my senses, while the smaller one, a female, smelled like earth and wildflowers.

They spoke again, and I realized they were calling me. Mira. That name again, my heart beat faster, but I didn't know why. I didn't recognize them. I felt a strange sensation, a connection that didn't make sense. I was lost, adrift in a sea of confusion.

As they neared, my confusion turned to fear. Instinctively, I bared my teeth, a low growl rumbling in my chest. I was a cornered animal, and they were the unknown. The female—Gretel, she called herself—reached out a hand, and I snapped at the air between us. The male—Bastian—stood still, his eyes full of something I couldn't comprehend.

My heart hammered in my chest as my growl grew louder. I didn't understand who they were, why they knew the name that echoed in my mind, or why their presence both comforted and terrified me.

Gretel's soft voice weaved through the quiet woods, carrying words that made my heart race. "Mira, sweetheart, it's me, your mother," she murmured. "Please, shift back to your human form. You're safe."

I recoiled from the words, the title 'mother' clashing harshly against the hollow emptiness of my mind. I watched as her eyes welled with tears, the hurt stirring an emotion I didn't want to face.

Mother? The word felt foreign, a fragment of a reality I didn't remember. A pang of fear coursed through me, and I snarled at her, my growl echoing through the quiet forest. I didn't recognize this woman; I didn't know her. How could she be my mother?

Bastian stood nearby, his eyes a tumultuous storm of emotions I didn't understand. Their presence was familiar, a haunting memory of something lost. But I couldn't put the pieces together or grasp the threads of the past they were trying to weave into my present.

They continued to speak, to plead, their words wrapping around me like a cage. I felt myself growing increasingly restless, my confusion blooming into anger. Anger at them for knowing me when I didn't know myself. Anger at myself for being lost, for not remembering.

Gretel reached out again, her voice trembling, "Please, Mira... Try to remember."

I growled, louder this time, my anger flaring. Remember? I couldn't remember, and it was tearing me apart. Their words were meaningless, their faces a blur in a sea of nothingness. My mind was a blank canvas, and they were trying to paint a picture I couldn't see.

My growls turned into a howl, the sound carrying through the woods. They retreated, their expressions a mix of fear and sadness. I watched as Gretel turned, her shoulders shaking. And then they were gone, leaving me with the silence and my numbing confusion.

Bastian

Gretel and I stepped back from the underbrush, a safe distance from Mira. Our eyes met, and I saw a mirror of my pain and helplessness in hers.

"She doesn't remember, Bastian," Gretel whispered, her voice choked with grief. I saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes, starkly contrasting her usually composed demeanor. "My daughter doesn't remember me."

The words hung in the chilly forest air like a damning verdict. Mira's growls had quieted, replaced by the occasional whimper of distress. My heart ached at the sound, a hollow memory of the love and trust we had built together. All of it was erased in an instant.

"We'll find a way," I told her, but the words felt fake. I felt Gretel's hand on my shoulder, her touch offering me a comfort I didn't deserve.

"I'm going to Petra's pack," she said, her voice steady, her gaze unwavering. "I'll talk to Luna and Mira's sisters. Maybe they can help. Maybe they can reach her."

I nodded, and we stood in silence for a moment. Gretel looked back at the underbrush where Mira was hidden, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

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