Entwined By Moonlight

Chapter 2: Into the Unkown

The first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow across Amelia's living room. The quiet hum of the house greeted her as she stretched, her muscles protesting the long night spent tending to Fenrir. She had stayed by his side, watching for any signs of distress, though his breathing had remained steady throughout the night.

Amelia moved quietly, not wanting to disturb him, though she was starting to wonder how long he'd remain unconscious. His injuries had been severe—too severe for him to have survived this long without more professional care. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the lines of the first-aid kit she had used, her mind still reeling from his cryptic plea from the night before.

No hospitals. His voice, barely above a whisper, had been urgent despite his weakened state. She had agreed to it then, driven by something she couldn't quite place, an instinct to trust him despite the situation.

Max lay at her feet, his eyes flicking between her and Fenrir with a calm vigilance. Amelia sighed and moved to check on him again. As she leaned over him, her gaze lingered briefly on his torso. The bandages she'd wrapped tightly around him the night before were still in place, but she couldn't help but notice something strange. Where she had expected to find dried blood and worsening wounds, there was instead smooth, unbroken skin.

Amelia blinked, frowning as she gingerly peeled back one of the bandages. What she saw beneath it made her pause. The deep gashes that had cut across his side, marks that had clearly been inflicted by claws, were now almost completely healed. She touched the spot gently, half expecting him to flinch from the pain, but there was no response.

"How is this possible?" she muttered to herself, disbelief washing over her. The wounds had been life-threatening, but now... now it looked as if they'd been healing for weeks, not hours.

She stepped back, her hand still hovering near her lips as she tried to wrap her head around what she was seeing. Was he some kind of miracle patient? Her thoughts raced, and just as she was about to go for her phone to search for any medical explanation, a soft groan broke the silence.

Fenrir shifted slightly on the couch, his eyes fluttering open. At first, they seemed unfocused, struggling to adjust to the dim light of the room. Then, as if sensing her presence, his gaze locked onto her. The warmth of his brown eyes was the first thing she noticed, but there was something sharper behind them, an alertness that seemed unusual given his injuries.

"You're awake," she said, her voice softer than she expected.

Fenrir blinked, his brows furrowing as he slowly pushed himself up. Amelia immediately reached out to stop him. "Wait, don't—"

But her words trailed off as he moved with surprising ease, his muscles flexing beneath the remnants of the bandages. He grimaced slightly, but it was clear he was in far less pain than he should've been. Far less than any normal human would be, given what he'd endured.

"I'm fine," Fenrir rasped, his voice still rough but steady. He leaned back against the pillows she had propped up the night before, his body relaxing.

Amelia stared at him, utterly confused. "You shouldn't be moving like that. You were... you were barely breathing when I found you. And your wounds—" She gestured toward his torso, still stunned. "How are you healing so quickly?"

Fenrir's eyes flickered, a brief hesitation crossing his face before he schooled his features into something neutral. "I've always healed fast," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

"That's not possible," Amelia countered, frustration bubbling up as she crossed her arms. "No one heals like that, not from those kinds of wounds."

Fenrir remained silent for a moment, studying her with those intense brown eyes. His expression was unreadable, but something about the way he looked at her made her pulse quicken. There was a depth there, an unspoken truth that she felt teetering just out of reach.