Momo

Haru and Momo had always known each other, bound by fate before they even understood what it meant. From the moment they could toddle through the undergrowth as cubs, their souls were intertwined in a way neither of them could explain. Momo had always been a dreamer, an eager but struggling apprentice to her grandmother's teachings—mystic practices and rituals, things that other cubs mocked as foolish. She would spend hours attempting to harness the knowledge passed down to her, whispering to the wind, watching the patterns in the water, trying to call upon something unseen. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never quite succeed in mastering the skills.

The other cubs jeered at her efforts, calling her names, laughing at how she wasted her time on "useless tricks." Some were crueler, knocking her over or disrupting her focus when she tried to practice. But Haru had never laughed. He had never sneered at her like the others. Instead, he had stepped forward, standing between her and the bullies, his fangs bared and his hackles raised.

"If you touch her again, you'll answer to me," he'd growled, still small but fierce beyond his size.

From that moment on, Haru was her shield, and she was his heart. They didn't have words to explain it then, but they knew.

As they grew into juveniles, they still spent every moment together. They hunted side by side, curled up beneath the same sky, and spoke about the future in hushed voices when the others were asleep. It was during one of these nights, the stars glittering above them, that the words finally formed.

"I think... I like you, Momo," Haru admitted, his voice hesitant but sure.

Momo turned to him, amber eyes warm and knowing. "I like you too, Haru."

That was all it took. They didn't need grand confessions or declarations—just that quiet understanding, that unwavering certainty. From that moment on, they were each other's.

As they became adolescents, their bond only grew stronger. Where Haru went, Momo followed. Where Momo led, Haru was never far behind. They were inseparable, their love maturing with them, their future seeming inevitable. But not everyone in the pack saw it that way.

The alpha of their birth pack, a powerful and aging wolf, had taken notice of Momo as she reached adulthood. He saw her beauty, her quiet wisdom, and the strength she carried in her bloodline. To him, she was not Haru's future mate—she was his. It was his right, his claim.

Haru and Momo refused. But in a pack, refusal meant nothing if the alpha willed it otherwise. It became clear that if they stayed, their future together would be torn apart.

And so, under the cover of night, they left. They ran, paws pounding against the earth, hearts racing with fear and exhilaration alike. They did not know where they were going—only that they would go there together.

Through harsh terrain and treacherous days, they found their own territory, carving out a place where they could live freely. Haru became the alpha, not because he demanded it, but because Momo trusted him to lead. And Momo, his queen, ruled beside him, her past struggles shaping her into a wolf of quiet strength.

They had built their own pack, a haven where no one could tear them apart, where love was not a claim but a choice freely given. And as they stood side by side, gazing at the land they had made their own, they knew they had never truly been running away.

They had been running toward the life that was always meant to be theirs.