Fell For You

Starving the Fox

The Council benched me from school for the week so they could train me—apparently "new hybrid" is a medical note now.

Kristen (supervised by the elders) ran me through basics of controlling my two sides.

We started at dawn, by the beach.

The air was cold enough to bite, but the salt wind cleared my head. Kristina stood in front of me with her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes glowing faintly blue.

"Your body houses two instincts," she said. "The wolf craves heat and pack. The fox sees lines — motion, precision, patterns. You can't run both at once without frying your brain. So we'll practice toggling between them."

She raised her hand. "Close your eyes. Count your breaths."

I did.

"One... two..."

"Now," she said, "call the heat."

A wave of warmth pulsed through me — heartbeat loud, air thick.

"Good. Now call the lines."

The warmth thinned into clarity. I could see the patterns — the sway of grass, the ripple of her hair in the wind.

Kristina smiled. "You just toggled. That's control, Mel. Remember: feed the wolf, or the fox will lead."

On day two the Alpha Sam called me in for orientation into the pack.

I swallowed whatever anxiety I had creeping into my bones and stepped into a clearing.

The clearing smelled of rain and pine, the kind that seeps into your bones. Morning fog coiled low across the forest floor. I stood there in my training clothes, barefoot, facing Sam Uley.

He looked as steady as ever — arms crossed, eyes deep and unreadable. Behind him, the Pack lingered at a respectful distance; Embry nodded sternly, Jacob looked tense, jaws set, Quil beamed at me, Paul lowered his head a certain glimmer of respect flickered in his dark eyes. Leah and Kristina stood at the center, both smiling encouragingly and then there was Seth. When his eyes met mine I felt a wave of ease, he smiled at me reassuringly but the worry in his eyes made me nervous. He looked tense, for the first time in my life I see the seriousness on his face.

I swallowed the flutter in my stomach. Seriously? Seeing him tense, jaws set and muscle flexed is getting me off right now? What is wrong with me?

"This session's different," Sam said, forcing my attention back to him. "You've got claws, instincts, speed — fine. But what you need now isn't strength. It's control. It's knowing who you are in the Pack."

I swallowed, nodding. "Okay. Control. I can do that."

"Good." His tone softened slightly. "Then we start with the basics."

He stepped closer, drawing a line in the dirt with his boot. "Every Pack has a structure — an unspoken rhythm. The Alpha leads, the Betas reinforce, the rest follow. Not out of fear. Out of trust. When we phase, that hierarchy keeps our minds from tearing each other apart."

I frowned. "Like... rules in the mind-link?"

"Exactly," he said. "When we shift, thoughts merge. No secrets. No walls. If I'm angry, the Pack feels it. If one of us panics, we all fight not to drown in it. That's why dominance matters — not to control, but to keep the link balanced. Someone has to anchor the noise."

"And my place?" I asked quietly.

Sam studied me for a long moment. "You're... different. You're not fully wolf. That makes you both inside and outside. You'll feel the pull to join the link, but it'll be weaker — like standing near an open doorway. You'll hear our thoughts, but faintly. And if you focus, you can answer back."