1
The sun had barely climbed over the treetops when Clarke and Raven pedaled their bikes down the dirt path, dust kicking up behind them. The air still smelled of last night’s rain, fresh and earthy, and the leaves glistened in the morning light.
“We are so gonna ace this project,” Clarke declared, her blonde hair messy from the wind.
Raven snorted. “Yeah, if our project is about how many times you can fall off your bike.”
Clarke swerved dramatically. “Hey! That was one time—”
“Three times,” Raven corrected, grinning.
They weren’t exactly serious about their school project on local wildlife. So far, their "research" had mostly been climbing trees, throwing pebbles into the creek, and pretending to be explorers. But, in their defense, learning was way more fun when it didn’t feel like school.
They rode deeper toward the forest’s edge, where the Griffin ranch met the wilderness. The Griffins had lived here for years, raising cattle and horses, and Clarke had grown up knowing every trail, every tree, and every hidden creek. The forest was home—but not without its dangers.
That was why the rule was never go too far.
But Clarke had always been curious.
And curiosity, it seemed, wasn’t just a human trait.
The wolf pup ran.
Her legs burned, her breath came ragged, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
The bear had come out of nowhere, massive and roaring, scattering her pack like dry leaves in the wind. The leader had fought back, and her mother had tried to shield the weakest members of the pack—pups and females. But the bear was stronger, her mother were heavily injured.
The wolf pup and the rest of the weakest packmates were safe from the bear, as her sister had barked and lured the bear away from the fallen adult female wolf; their mother. The rest of the pups and females were injured on their run. They need help, and the alpha of the pack, her sire, along with few male wolves were already dead because of the first battle with the bear. She had tried to run, tried to follow her big sister's scent, to somehow help to fight off the bear— but she had fallen, tumbled down a steep drop, her small body rolling and crashing through the underbrush.
Pain flared up her side. Something was wrong with her leg.
She whined softly, ears flicking back. The forest felt different here. Wrong.
Her mother always said, Never go past the trees, never go where the ground turns to open sky. That is not our world.
But she had fallen past the trees.
And now she was alone.
She tried to move, but her body refused. The earth was damp beneath her, her fur shivering against the cold.
Maybe this is where I go to meet Gaia.
That was what the elders said—that when their time came, they would return to the earth and be taken to the Great Forest beyond. Where their pack would be whole again.
She let out a slow, tired breath.
Then, just before her eyes slipped closed, a shadow fell over her.
For a moment, she thought she was seeing Gaia herself.
But then—
Soft words, unfamiliar but soothing.
Gentle hands, warm and careful.
A scent, like sunlit grass and home.
Not a goddess.
A girl.
“She’s hurt,” Clarke whispered, her voice barely above the wind.
The wolf pup didn’t move, just lay curled in the dirt, her fur matted with blood. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.
Clarke’s heart squeezed.
“She’s gonna die if we don’t help her,” she said, already pulling off her sweater.
Raven shifted uneasily beside her. “Uh, Clarke? It’s still a wild animal.”
Clarke ignored her, gently draping the sweater over the small, shivering body. The pup barely reacted, just a slow flick of her ear.
“It’s okay,” Clarke murmured. “You’re gonna be okay.”
The pup’s green eyes flickered open—just for a second. Clarke froze.
There was something in that gaze. Something knowing.
She swallowed.
“I’m gonna get help,” she promised.
Raven’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You’re leaving me alone with it?”
Clarke stood, already sprinting toward her bike. “You’re brave, you got this!”
Raven groaned. “Yeah, well, I was brave—what it it looked at me like I was its last meal?”
But Clarke was already pedaling as fast as she could toward the ranch.
---
By the time Clarke skidded to a stop at the ranch, her legs burned from pedaling so hard.
“MOM! DAD!” she shouted, jumping off the bike so fast it crashed onto the dirt.
Abby Griffin stepped out of the clinic, still in her vet scrubs. “Clarke, what—?”
“There’s a wolf—she’s hurt—bad—” Clarke panted, words tumbling over each other. “Please, we have to help her!”
Jake Griffin appeared from the barn, wiping his hands on a rag. “A wolf?” he repeated, brows raising. “Clarke, you know we—”
“She’s just a pup,” Clarke cut in. “She’s all alone! Please, we have to go now!”
Abby and Jake exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them.
Then Abby nodded. “Get the first-aid kit.”
Jake grabbed his truck keys.
---
They found Raven sitting a little ways from the pup, her arms crossed tightly.
“She’s… still breathing,” Raven reported. Then she side-eyed the unconscious wolf. “But I swear to God, that thing understands me.”
Jake chuckled as he knelt down, carefully checking the pup’s injuries. “You scared, Reyes?”
“No,” Raven huffed. “Okay, a little.”
Abby crouched beside the pup, her expert hands moving gently but efficiently. Clarke hovered beside her, watching with anxious eyes.
“She’s young,” Abby murmured. “A little over a year, maybe.”
“Can we save her?” Clarke asked, voice small.
Abby met her gaze and softened. “We can try.”
Clarke let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
---
The clinic smelled like antiseptic and hay, but it was warm.
Clarke sat beside the pup, her fingers resting lightly against the soft fur on its side. The pup was bandaged now, her breathing steadier.
“She’s a fighter,” Jake murmured from the doorway. “Tough little thing.”
Clarke smiled. “Yeah.”
The pup stirred slightly, not waking but shifting closer, as if seeking warmth. Clarke’s smile grew.
She had found her.
Or maybe the wolf had found her.
---
"My sweet little pup, wake up. Wake up Leksa, it is not your time yet."
She knew that voice—her mother's. But she couldn't find her. She tried to run, look for her, but a force pulled her down, and suddenly—
Warmth.
That was the first thing she felt.
Not the damp, cold earth beneath her body, not the biting wind of the forest. But warmth, soft and unfamiliar, pressing against her fur.
She stirred, blinking sluggishly. Something was wrong.
The scents were strange—wood, hay, something sharp in the air that burned her nose. And the space—enclosed, unnatural. Not the open forest, not home.
Where—?
She tried to move, but her limbs were heavy, slow, as if her body no longer belonged to her. A quiet whimper escaped her throat before she could stop it.
Then—movement.
The soft shuffle of steps, the scent of something known.
The sunlit-haired girl.
The small human with eyes as blue as the summer sky.
Leksa blinked blearily as the little human crouched near her, her expression bright with relief.
“Hey there,” the little human whispered, her voice gentle. Warm.
Leksa tilted her head, intrigued.
The other little human—the dark-haired one—had been uneasy, skittish. But this one… this one was different. She was not afraid.
Slowly, the human reached out, small fingers brushing against Leksa’s fur.
It was warm. Gentle.
Familiar.
A part of her wanted to flinch away, but another part—the tired, aching part—wanted this warmth.
Then—
“Clarke, honey,” a voice came from somewhere, carrying both fondness and exasperation. “Don’t pet her carelessly. She’s still wounded, and she might be aggressive.”
The little human—Clarke, Leksa noted—just shrugged, her grin unbothered. “She’s soft and cute. She didn’t even growl, Mom.”
Leksa huffed, flattening her ears.
Soft and cute?
She was a wolf. A proud, fierce hunter of the forest. She was not soft. She was not cute.
She would have told them so if her body didn’t feel so heavy, if exhaustion wasn’t pulling her back under.
Through half-lidded eyes, she watched as Clarke giggled, the sound light and unguarded.
“I think I embarrassed her by calling her cute.”
Leksa grumbled quietly, shifting deeper into the warmth beneath her.
The humans left soon after, their voices fading beyond the wooden walls of this strange place.
Finally, she let herself sink into sleep.
And in her dreams—
She was running through the trees again, chasing the scent of home, of her mother.
Clarke’s POV
Clarke Griffin had always loved animals.
She loved running barefoot through the ranch, feeling the earth beneath her feet, chasing chickens and geese—before running back screaming when they chased her in return. It was a game now, one the animals seemed to enjoy as much as she did.
She climbed trees, explored the edges of the forest, and once tried to sneak into the horse stables at night just to see if horses snored. (They did.)
Now, for the past two weeks, she had a new partner in adventure.
The wolf pup. Wolfie.
She was healing well, but her mom still wanted to monitor her a little longer, and Clarke wasn’t complaining. Every extra day meant more time to play.
But Clarke knew this couldn’t last forever.
Wolves weren’t like their farm dogs. They belonged in the forest, where the wind was crisp and the shadows stretched long between the trees. They needed the wild to survive, to thrive.
Wolfie was strong.
She would leave one day.
But not today.
Today, Wolfie had taken up a new job—guarding their livestock at night.
Somehow, the farm dogs didn’t mind her presence. They didn’t growl or chase her off.
She had earned her place.
And Clarke was so proud.
---
Leksa’s POV
A few days ago…
Leksa stood in front of the farm’s lead dog, Ben.
They spoke in the way animals did, through low growls and sharp whines—though to human ears, it was just noise.
"I want to help," Leksa had said. "Let me guard the animals. I owe this pack my life."
Ben eyed her, untrusting.
Leksa held his stare.
Finally, the gruff old dog let out a short woof and turned away. "Do what you want, wolfie. Just don’t make any noise."
Leksa took that as approval.
That night, she took her place on the farm’s borders, circling the enclosures, checking the fences, ears twitching at every distant rustle in the trees.
It felt good to be useful.
By morning, exhaustion weighed on her limbs, but satisfaction filled her chest.
Leksa padded up to the front door and flopped down onto the cool wooden porch.
And then—
A familiar scent.
A sleepy voice.
“Mornin’, Wolfie…”
Leksa cracked an eye open.
Klark stood there, blinking at her, hair still messy from sleep.
Leksa snorted. Little Klark is not a morning person.
Before she could move, Klark collapsed onto her in a loose, warm hug.
Leksa tensed—but only for a second.
“Mmm. You’re warm. So comfy,” Klark mumbled into her fur.
Leksa flicked an ear.
“Don’t wanna go to school. Wanna stay with you.”
Leksa huffed. She tilted her head, letting out a short bark.
I will go with you to this school place. Guard you. You are too weak to be so far from home.
Then—her ears flattened.
Home.
For the first time in days, she thought of the forest. Of her mother. Of the pack.
Of the loss that still ached deep in her bones.
The sadness lingered, curling around her like mist—until Klark laughed, bright and careless.
Leksa blinked.
“You wanna come?” Klark grinned, scratching behind Leksa’s ears. “You can’t, silly. People at school would freak out. They’re not as brave as me.”
Leksa huffed again. That was… fair.
Her mother had always told her—humans were not to be feared or hunted, but they were dangerous when scared.
And scared humans were just like wild animals.
Vicious when cornered.
Leksa let out a slow breath, watching as Klark stood, stretching.
At the ranch gate, Reivon was already waiting, sitting on her bike.
For the first time, she waved at Leksa instead of running away.
“See you later, badass wolfie!” she called.
Leksa’s tail gave the smallest flick of approval.
Maybe she could like this other little human.
She called Leksa badass, after all.
---
That night, Clarke had a strange dream.
She found herself walking through a forest—an ancient, beautiful place where the trees stretched endlessly into the sky. Their leaves whispered with the wind, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. A soft golden light filtered through the canopy, making the world feel like something out of a fairytale.
Beside her, a woman walked in silence. She was taller than Clarke, with dark brown hair that shimmered under the glow of the forest light. But it was her eyes that Clarke couldn’t look away from—green, deep and endless, like the very heart of the forest. They were warm, kind, but filled with sorrow.
The woman looked down at her and smiled, gentle but heavy with sadness.
"Thank you, Klark, for saving my baby," she said softly. "I wish I could do more for her… stay a bit longer to love her. But you showed her love and taught her to live."
Clarke frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"
The woman chuckled lightly, though her sadness never left. "The wolf, Klark," she said, her voice carrying the weight of something ancient. "She is my child. Leksa."
Clarke’s breath hitched. "Lexa?"
The woman nodded, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Yes, Leksa. Please… guide her back to the forest when you are sure she is ready. The forest needs her, and she needs the forest."
Clarke wanted to say something, to ask more questions, but all she could feel was the growing ache in her chest. The thought of letting Wolfie—Lexa—go was unbearable.
As if sensing her pain, the woman reached out, gently wiping away the tears Clarke hadn’t even realized she was shedding.
"She will visit you once in a while, don’t be sad," she reassured her.
Clarke swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay…"
The woman smiled, her eyes filled with something like gratitude. She led Clarke forward, back toward the edge of the forest, and as they walked, everything around her faded away.
Clarke woke with a sharp inhale, her heart pounding.
The dream lingered, vivid and strange. But more than anything, one thought remained—her wolf had a name.
Lexa.
It sounded like a human name. Clarke furrowed her brows, wondering if it meant something. But she was ten, and dreams were just dreams. Maybe her mind made it up. Maybe it was just her imagination.
Either way, it didn’t change the fact that Lexa would have to go back to the forest someday.
But at least… she would visit sometimes. Or maybe Clarke could visit her.
---
It was Sunday, and Clarke didn’t have school. The first thing she did when she woke up was call Raven.
"Come over and play," Clarke had said, and Raven, as always, never needed convincing.
Outside, Clarke watched Wolfie—no, Lexa—playing chase with Ben, their old herding dog. Or maybe it wasn’t just play. Maybe Ben was actually teaching her how to keep the animals in place. Clarke didn’t know, but it was cute.
By the time Raven arrived, Lexa had managed to corner a few stubborn sheep back toward their pen, her movements careful but precise.
Raven crossed her arms, amused. "Wolfie knows how to have fun?"
Clarke giggled. "Looks like it."
Then, she called out to the wolf, grinning.
"Lexa! Your favorite breakfast is here!"
Raven, who always brought bacon for the wolf, smirked as she pulled a pack out of her backpack.
Abby had already warned them not to give her too much of it—wolves needed fresh meat, real meat—but a little treat every now and then never hurt.
---
Lexa’s POV
Ben was a good teacher.
He had been showing Lexa how to keep the strange, fluffy creatures in their spots, how to guide them back to their ‘house’ before nightfall. She wasn’t sure why she liked it—maybe because it made sense. Order. Control. It was satisfying.
It had been a month now since she was injured. She had regained her strength, grown bigger. Maybe too much bigger.
Perhaps she had indulged too much in bacon.
And then—
"Leksa! Your favorite breakfast is here!"
Her ears perked.
Reivon.
Reivon always brought bacon.
But—
Did Klark just call her name?
She tilted her head, confused. How did Klark know?
She would think about it later. Right now… bacon.
---
Clarke’s POV
Clarke watched as Lexa froze, ears flicking up in surprise.
Did she understand?
The wolf hesitated for a moment, her head tilting as if trying to process something. But then, just as quickly, she shook it off.
And then, she ran.
Lexa bounded toward them, her paws kicking up small clouds of dust, eyes locked onto Raven’s backpack. Within seconds, she launched herself at Raven, who barely managed to brace herself before bursting into laughter.
"Alright, alright, calm down, girl," Raven said, reaching into her bag and pulling out the bacon.
Clarke grinned, watching as Lexa tore into the treat with excitement.
"Good girl, Wolfie," Raven chuckled, scratching behind her ears.
Clarke leaned in, brushing her hand over Lexa’s fur. "I think her name is Lexa," she said, voice soft but certain. "It suits her, right, Rae?"
Raven smirked. "I like it. But I’ll call her Lexy, then."
Lexa lifted her head, giving Raven a look, then let out a playful growl.
Clarke and Raven both burst into laughter.
---
The second month had arrived, and Abby was giving the wolf—Lexa, according to Clarke—a final checkup to see if she was strong enough to return to the forest. Clarke knelt beside the wolf, her fingers combing through thick, dark fur as she murmured reassurances. Lexa didn’t seem to mind, merely letting out a slow huff as Abby examined her.
“You’re really attached to her, huh?” Abby chuckled, watching as her ten-year-old daughter doted on the animal.
“She’s family now,” Clarke insisted, scratching behind Lexa’s ear, the way she knew the wolf liked. Lexa pressed into the touch, her tail giving a slow, contented wag.
Abby smirked. “Why’d you name her Lexa?”
Clarke’s hand stilled for a moment. She looked up at her mother, brows furrowing. “I had a dream,” she admitted. “A pretty woman told me the wolf’s name was Lexa. And Mom, no, I’m not making things up. I’m ten, I know the difference!” Clarke groaned when Abby merely hummed, clearly amused.
But Abby wasn’t laughing at her. No—Abby believed her.
Because once, long ago, when Abby was Clarke’s age, she had the same dream. A woman in the forest, thanking her for saving a wolf. She had brushed it off as childhood imagination, but it was one of the reasons why she became a veterinarian in the first place. Now, looking at Clarke and the wolf curled up beside her, Abby wasn’t so sure it had been a simple dream after all.
Clarke pouted at her mother’s silence. “Mom! I’m serious.”
“I believe you, sweetheart,” Abby said softly, running her hand through Clarke’s hair before standing. “Let’s get her ready.”
---
The Griffins and Reivon accompanied Leksa to the other edge of the forest, where the trees thickened and the path back to her home was easier to follow.
Leksa sat in the back of the truck with Klark, who clung to her like she never wanted to let go. And maybe… maybe Leksa felt the same.
Klark had called her by name. She understood now that it was no coincidence. Maybe it had been her mother, or Gaia herself, whispering her name into Klark’s dreams. Maybe it was fate. Maybe humans and wolves were never meant to be separate after all.
Leksa knew only one thing for certain—this human, this girl with bright blue eyes and a laugh like sunlight filtering through leaves, was important. She was hers to protect.
The truck stopped. Leksa let out a slow exhale, pushing away the ache in her chest as she jumped down onto the dirt road. Her paws sank into the cool earth, and the scent of the forest filled her senses. This was home. But so was Klark.
Klark sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, kneeling to wrap her arms around Leksa’s neck. “But you have to, don’t you?”
Leksa gave a soft bark, pressing her nose against Klark’s cheek. I will come see you sometimes, Klark. Don’t be sad.
Klark let out a watery laugh. “I’ll miss you. Be safe out there, okay? And don’t eat spoiled meat, you’ll get sick. And don’t forget to visit me.”
Leksa whined softly, nuzzling into Klark’s arms, memorizing her warmth.
Reivon joined them, crouching beside Klark. The other little human was never the soft type. She was proud, like wolves, too stubborn to cry even if her eyes looked a little glassy.
“Be safe, Leksi,” Reivon muttered, reaching out to scratch her behind the ears. “I’ll have bacon ready for you when you visit, ‘kay?”
Leksa huffed in amusement. Always thinking about food, huh, Reivon? The little human was stubborn, like Anya—her sister. A pang of grief ran through her. Anya was gone now, with Gaia, along with the rest of her pack. Leksa swallowed down the ache. She had to be strong.
After a long, heartfelt goodbye, Abi crouched in front of her, meeting Leksa’s eyes.
“Stay out of trouble, little wolf,” Abi murmured, scratching gently behind her ears. “Clarke will be sad if you don’t come visit.”
Leksa blinked, tilting her head. Humans were strange creatures, but she knew Abi meant well. She huffed in response, acknowledging the words.
Jeik grinned, ruffling her fur roughly. “Show ‘em who’s boss out there, wolfie!”
Leksa gave a short snort, shaking out her coat. Then she turned, facing the forest, the place that had called her home from the moment she had been born.
Time to go home.
She paused one last time, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes met Klark’s, the girl’s blue gaze shimmering with unshed tears.
“Thank you, little Klark,” Leksa thought, hoping her human could somehow hear her. “May we meet again.”
With one last bark—a promise—Leksa turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows of the trees, her heart relieved yet heavy all the same.