The forest air was rich with the aroma of damp earth and the lovely, untamed scent of pine. Ancient towering trees hung above Cassandra like quiet sentinels, their broad branches whispering in the breeze. Her thoughts swirled in uncertainty as she strolled the thin trail, her feet silent on the woodland floor.
The vision. The fire. The kingdom is falling apart. Images of Damon's face—those eyes that had tormented her dreams since their gazes connected in the turmoil of her vision. She could not ignore it. Was the rogue wolf—the one that had attacked her—real? Was that included in the vision, then? She had no answers—only more questions.
Cassandra fought through the thick foliage, her heart pounding from the forest's draw and the urge to understand the chaos in her head. She wanted solutions, but the more she delved into her thoughts, the more she drifted from the tranquility she had hoped to find.
Stopping near a group of trees, she leaned against one to control her breathing. Her pulse rang in her ears, and the last heat of the vision seared her flesh. The world around her seemed to be changing, folding in on itself. Though the shadows of the trees seemed to press in and suffocate her, she shut her eyes and attempted to center herself.
A twig snapped, breaking the quiet. Instinctively reaching for the strength within Cassandra, the power she didn't quite grasp but knew she couldn't always manage, she froze, her body tight. Though her fingertips tingled, it was insufficient to dispel the terror.
The sound came again, this time closer. Her breath caught in her throat as she spun around. His figure stood in the clearing, dark against the fading light, the last person she ever expected to see.
Damon.
The minute their eyes met, an electrifying charge caused her heart to leap in her chest. Tall, Damon buried his broad shoulders with a worn cloak that swirled in the breeze. His wild and untamed hair fell into his eyes, and his jaw was pointed. He seemed to have a risky and alluring intensity as if the forest itself bowed to his presence.
His deep, smoldering eyes were fixed on hers as if he had been waiting for this moment as long as she had. The attraction between them was unavoidably stronger than the universe itself. But his expression held her at arm's length. There was something cautious, as though he feared what they could become if they got too close.
"You are not safe here," Damon's low and commanding voice pierced the stillness and made her spine tingle.
Cassandra's body instinctively stepped back as she swallowed. "What do you mean, exactly? Why would I be—"
The snarling noise cut the air before she could complete her sentence. As the growls got closer and louder, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Damon's posture changed from stiff to alert as his gaze darted towards the trees.
Stalking towards them, a rogue wolf appeared from the shadows, its body low to the earth and eyes wild. Its teeth shone in the twilight, and its fur was matted with grime.
Cassandra instinctively retreated, her heart racing in her chest. She couldn't think, only react.
Damon, however, was already on the move.
He lunged towards the rogue without a second thought, his motions quick and flowing. A predator among predators, he had virtually merged with the jungle. His strong body struck the rogue wolf, sending it to the ground. There was a chorus of turmoil as Damon and the rogue wrestled in the dirt; the growls filled the air.
Watching the fight play out before her, Cassandra stood motionless for a minute. Damon's movements' raw force was incredible; every stroke was deliberate and calculated, as though he had battled like this a thousand times. And yet, there was something so familiar about the way he moved. A recollection awakened in her, but it was transient, gone almost as fast as it had appeared.
Though Damon's hold remained unrelenting, the rogue wolf snarled in anguish. With a last twist, he pushed the rogue into the earth. The wolf yelped, and with a snap of its neck, it went still.
Damon stood, panting, his chest rising and falling with every breath. Wild with excitement, his eyes met Cassandra's again. But this time, his look was colder, more detached.
"Stay away from me," he warned, his voice gruff and forceful. The words struck Cassandra like a punch in the stomach.
Damon spun and vanished into the forest, leaving her alone with the body of the rogue wolf before she could respond.
Once more, the woods were quiet. However, Cassandra's heart raced as confusion and longing gnawed at her. What was that supposed to mean? Who was Damon? What made her heart race in ways she didn't understand?
Cassandra stood in the clearing, the weight of the rogue wolf's body lying lifeless at her feet, and Damon's words echoed in her mind. What had only recently taken place baffled her. He had been there one moment, his presence authoritative and protecting; the next, he was gone, leaving only quiet and the bleeding ruins of the conflict.
Her fingers shook as she extended to touch its fur, and she gradually moved towards the rogue. Its body was still quivering with the aftershocks of its last seconds, and the fur was warm. A strange sense of amazement flooded her—Damon had killed the wolf gracefully and effortlessly. It wasn't just the speed of the moment that had captivated her, but also the raw force emanating from him.
He was somehow otherworldly. Cassandra couldn't get rid of the impression that maybe she had seen him before in another life. But that idea made her mind spin. Beyond the image, she had no recollection of him; nonetheless, he had rescued her again.
A distant sound pulled her from her thoughts. It was the unmistakable crunch of limbs underfoot, the rustling of leaves. No one was there; she turned back, her heart racing in her throat. The woodland was quiet once more, as though nothing had ever occurred.
Cassandra still had the impression, though, that something had shifted. Everything was connected in ways she didn't understand: the vision, the rogue wolf, Damon. And the pull between them? There was no question about it.
Standing in the clearing, Cassandra looked into the shadows of the woodland. Though the rogue wolf wasn't on her mind, the smell of blood and soil lingered in the air. Damon did it. His presence hung in the tense, obvious distance between them.
The intensity of his gaze, the weight of his eyes on her, remained to be felt. "Stay away from me," his remarks said. But that was impossible. When everything in her body shouted for her to follow him, how could she stay away?
Her thoughts were a jumble of confusion and desire. She didn't know Damon—at least, not really. Still, the attraction, the connection, was undeniable. It pulled at her like a gravitational force she couldn't escape.
The breeze changed, and Cassandra detected a slight smell of something—a familiar musk—Damon's scent blending with the dirt and plants. Though she couldn't see him, he was still out there, nearby. She wished to call him to find out who he was and why he had saved her, but something stopped her.
At last, Cassandra heard his voice again, quiet yet clear as the sun sank, throwing long shadows across the woodland.
"Cassandra, we shall meet once more."
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her body was motionless, and she stood there silently as his words reverberated in her head. The woodlands appeared to be holding their breath, and the air was heavy with unspoken things.
Then, as though the world had been holding its breath for too long, he vanished.
Left in the quiet, she was a tempest of feelings spinning within. What had just happened? What had she experienced?
And why did her heart hurt with an unexplainable void?
The sun went down, darkening the woods. For Cassandra, though, the night was beginning.