2
It had only been two weeks since Clarke had said goodbye to Lexa near the forest, and she already missed the wolf more than she thought possible.
Every morning, she ran to the fence, hoping to see that familiar silhouette trotting toward her. Every night, she stared out her window, wondering if Lexa was out there, watching.
But she knew it was too soon.
Lexa had her home, her own world. Clarke had to trust that she was safe, even if it hurt not knowing.
She tried to distract herself. School kept her busy, and afternoons at the ranch with Raven helped. Sometimes they assisted Abby with sick animals, and Clarke found comfort in their care. But the ache in her chest never really faded.
And then, on the night of her eleventh birthday, everything changed.
A rustling sound woke her.
Clarke blinked in the darkness, listening. The wind? A branch tapping against the window?
Then she heard it—soft, familiar. A low whine.
Clarke’s heart leapt.
She scrambled out of bed, rushing to the window, and there—standing in the moonlight—was Lexa.
Her breath hitched.
Lexa was bigger now, her fur a little thicker, her green eyes bright in the dim glow. And in her snout, dripping with golden sweetness, was a honeycomb.
The ten year old—just turned eleven—let out a startled squeal of joy and sprinted for the door, not caring that her feet were bare against the cold ground. She barely noticed Jake stepping out behind her, bleary-eyed from sleep.
She dropped to her knees in the grass, throwing her arms around Lexa’s neck. The wolf let out a soft huff, pressing her nose into Clarke’s shoulder, tail wagging.
“You remembered,” Clarke whispered, eyes stinging with tears. “You remembered I love honey.”
The wolf grumbled something in response, and Clarke giggled as she pulled back, finally taking in the mess that was Lexa’s fur.
Sticky honey clung to her muzzle, dripping down her chest. Bits of leaves and dirt were stuck to her coat, and Clarke had never seen a more ridiculous sight.
Jake, now fully awake, let out a loud laugh. “Well, looks like you got yourself into some trouble, huh, wolfie?”
Lexa only looked proud.
Clarke sniffled, smiling through her tears. “Did you really come all this way just to bring me honey?”
Lexa blinked at her, and Clarke swore she saw something knowing in those eyes.
Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it wasn’t.
But Lexa had kept her promise.
And that was all that mattered.
---
Lexa’s POV
The forest had been too quiet without her.
Lexa had spent six moons roaming the land, finding familiar paths, hunting beneath silver skies. She had found the old dens, but they were empty. The trees whispered her name, but she did not answer.
Because something had changed.
Because she had changed.
She was still wild, still a creature of the forest. But the warmth of a child’s hands, the sound of her laughter—those things had settled deep within Lexa’s bones, refusing to be forgotten.
She had watched from the shadows, lingering at the edges of the ranch when the wind carried Clarke’s scent.
And then, as the stars blinked awake, the memory came to her—honey. The girl had loved honey. She had once licked the golden syrup from her fingers, giggling as Lexa licked her own nose clean after stealing a taste.
So Lexa had searched.
She had clawed into a hollow tree, braving the stinging bees, ignoring the sharp bite of their anger.
And now, here she was.
Sticky, covered in leaves, standing before her girl.
Clarke’s arms were around her, warm and real, her voice thick with emotion. Lexa breathed her in, pressing close, letting herself melt into the touch she had missed.
She did not speak human words, but her actions had always been louder than sound.
She had remembered.
She had returned.
And Clarke still wanted her here.
A low, satisfied rumble left her chest as she nuzzled into Clarke’s warmth.
For the first time in six moons, Lexa felt like she was home.
---
Lexa stayed through the night.
She hadn’t meant to, but Clarke had curled into her warmth on the front porch, small arms wrapped around her, breath slow and steady in sleep. The girl had refused to let go, even as Jake draped a blanket over her tiny frame.
Lexa had stayed still, watching the stars fade into the deep indigo of early morning, listening to the quiet hum of the world waking up.
And for the first time in moons, she felt at peace.
Dawn arrived too quickly.
Clarke stirred against her fur, yawning as golden light kissed the ranch. Lexa nudged her gently, and Clarke grumbled sleepily, tightening her hold for just a moment longer.
But morning meant goodbye.
And Leksa had always known this wasn’t forever.
She waited as Clarke got ready for school, her tail wagging slightly when the front gate burst open and a bicycle skidded to a stop.
“Leksi!”
Raven grinned wildly, jumping off her bike before it even stopped moving. “You came back! Good thing I brought bacon!”
Leksa huffed as Raven all but tackled her, squeezing her in a tight hug. The girl still insisted on calling her Leksi, despite Leksa’s clear preference otherwise.
Clarke finally emerged, backpack slung over one shoulder, her face solemn. She hesitated for a moment before rushing to Lexa, arms wrapping around her once more.
“I don’t want to leave,” Clarke mumbled into her fur.
Lexa whined softly, pressing her nose to Clarke’s cheek in quiet reassurance.
She had to leave too.
There was still work to be done—finding a new den, a place that didn’t echo with memories of the pack she had lost.
The forest was vast, but loneliness was no longer a comfort.
Not after Clarke.
--
She knew Lexa would be gone by the time she got home.
She had always known.
Still, she lingered, one hand buried in the thick fur of her best friend, trying to memorize the feeling.
“See you around, Lexa.” Clarke pressed a quick kiss to the wolf’s nose, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “Love you.”
Lexa let out a soft bark in response, her head tilting slightly as if she understood.
Then Clarke pulled away, hopping onto her bike beside Raven, who had finished stuffing her last strip of crispy bacon into her mouth.
They pedaled off toward the school, Clarke glancing back one last time.
Lexa was still there, watching.
Then, just as the road curved, she turned and disappeared into the trees.
The forest welcomed her back, but it was not the same.
Her paws carried her swiftly through the undergrowth, her heart still warm from Clarke’s touch.
She had done what she came to do.
She had reminded her girl that she was never truly alone.
But now, she had to find a place of her own.
For months, she roamed alone.
She hunted, she explored, she survived.
And yet, when the leaves turned golden and the winds whispered of colder days ahead, her paws carried her back to the ranch.
She had something else to bring this time.
The hare was fat and fresh, the best she could find. She left it by the kitchen door, sitting just beyond the light, waiting.
The door creaked open.
Abby gasped softly in surprise.
Then—
“Lexa!”
Clarke’s voice rang out, and before Lexa could move, the girl was running, bare feet against the cold wooden porch, arms tight around her neck.
She smelled of home.
Lexa nuzzled against her, closing her eyes for just a moment.
And then, as always, she left.
It became a rhythm, a pattern woven through the years.
Through storms and seasons, Lexa would return, each visit marked by a gift—fresh game, a bundle of herbs, a soft-furred pelt left in the barn.
And each time, Clarke would greet her with that same bright smile, the same unshaken devotion.
Until Clarke was no longer a child.
Until Lexa was no longer a young wolf.
Until the bond between them stretched across time, unbreakable as the roots beneath the earth.
Until the day came when Lexa no longer ran back to the forest alone.
---
Clarke was seventeen now.
Gone was the wide-eyed child who once clung to a wolf on her front porch. In her place stood a young woman, golden hair catching the sunlight, hands smudged with charcoal and ink.
She spent hours at the edge of the forest, sketchbook balanced on her knees, capturing the wild beauty around her—the trees, the river, the animals.
Lexa.
The wolf had grown, too. No longer just a lone survivor, but something more—stronger, larger, more majestic than any creature Clarke had ever seen. Her dark coat gleamed in the dappled light, and those green eyes... Clarke had never seen another like them.
She still found herself surprised sometimes, the way Lexa seemed to understand her without words.
As if they were more than just a girl and a wolf.
As if they were something bound by fate itself.
Lexa moved silently through the undergrowth, watching from the shadows as Clarke sat beneath a large oak, lost in her art.
She had watched Clarke grow—watched her become this.
Beautiful. Strong. Steady.
Still, she came bearing gifts.
This time, it was different wildflowers—violets and lilies, their colors vibrant against the green. And, of course, honeycomb, fresh and golden, dripping with sweetness.
She stepped into the clearing, her paws light against the earth.
Clarke looked up, and the smile that spread across her face made something warm bloom in Lexa’s chest.
“Hey, sweet girl,” Clarke cooed, reaching out instinctively. Then she spotted the honeycomb and laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You stole the bees’ honey again?”
Lexa simply sat, watching as Clarke plucked the sticky treat from her snout, transferring it carefully into the empty container she always carried.
The soft touch of fingers ran through her thick coat, and Lexa closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth.
She could stay like this.
Just for a little while.
But not today.
A bark escaped her throat as she pulled away, shaking her fur before trotting toward the trees. She stopped just at the edge, glancing back when Clarke didn’t follow.
The young woman tilted her head. “You want me to go with you?”
Lexa only stared, tail twitching once.
Clarke huffed, a smirk tugging at her lips as she closed her sketchbook. “Alright, lead the way, Commander Lexa de Wolfie.”
Lexa huffed at the ridiculous name but turned, leading Clarke deeper into the forest.
She would show her.
Show her where the wild things lived.
Show her where she belonged.
With her.
---
Clarke followed Lexa deeper into the forest, her fingers brushing through the wolf’s thick coat as they walked side by side.
She had always loved the woods, but today—seeing them through Lexa’s eyes—she felt something different. Something almost sacred.
“This is beautiful, Lexa.” Clarke’s voice was soft, full of wonder.
She glanced down at the wolf beside her. “Are you showing me where you stay? Do you have a new pack?”
The moment the words left her mouth, Clarke felt a little silly. Talking to Lexa like she could answer.
But when she looked again, the wolf’s green eyes had narrowed, her ears twitching slightly, as if offended by the notion of a new pack.
Clarke laughed, shaking her head. “Guess that’s a no, huh?”
Lexa had never brought other wolves around. Clarke’s mom had asked her to pay attention, curious whether Lexa would remain a lone wolf or introduce a new pack.
But if Lexa did have a pack… Clarke had a feeling she would have been the first to know.
---
The clearing was just ahead.
Lexa had found it months ago, marked its borders, made sure it was safe. It was one of the few places she knew Clarke would love—warm, open, peaceful. A place filled with wildflowers, where the sunlight spilled freely through the trees.
As they stepped into the clearing, Clarke gasped, turning in slow circles.
Lexa’s tail flicked, pleased.
“This is perfect,” Clarke murmured, mostly to herself, already pulling out her sketchbook. Then she paused, eyes flicking to Lexa.
“Do you mind if I show this place to Raven? And our new friend, Octavia?” Clarke hesitated, tilting her head. “Maybe it could be our camping spot?”
Leksa considered it, gaze sweeping the area. It was safe. Not too far from the ranch. And her den wasn’t too far, either.
She let out a soft bark, nodding her head.
Clarke beamed, her entire face lighting up.
Leksa watched her, warmth spreading in her chest.
Her girl had grown so much.
She had prepared herself for Clarke to drift away—to be busy with life, with school, with things beyond the forest. That was the way of humans. They built their futures while wolves simply existed.
Leksa would wait.
Wait until the day her legs could no longer carry her.
She had already lived far longer than most wolves. Her body was larger, her fur darker, her bones aching more often than they used to. If she didn’t rest after a hunt, she would feel it in the morning.
Still, she had today.
So she spent it beside Clarke, listening as the girl spoke about school, her friends, her dreams. Clarke had always been wise, but now there was a quiet confidence in her voice.
Lexa was proud.
The sun had dipped low when Lexa walked her home, her presence a familiar comfort beside Clarke’s bike.
As they neared the ranch, the warm glow of the house lights flickered in the distance.
Clarke slowed, glancing down at Lexa.
She hesitated. Then, softly, “I’ll be leaving in three months.”
Lexa stilled.
Clarke swallowed, looking up at the sky. “For college.”
The words felt strange on her tongue. She wanted to go—had worked hard for it—but standing here, beside Lexa, a deep ache settled in her chest.
Lexa let out a soft, low rumble, something close to a sigh.
Clarke smiled, nudging her gently. “You’re proud of me, right, sweet girl?”
Lexa huffed, nudging her back.
Clarke chuckled, a little watery.
They stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them like something unspoken, something sacred.
Then, with one last look, Clarke turned toward the house.
That night, as Clarke disappeared inside, Lexa lingered only a moment before turning toward the forest.
She would not see her girl again for a while.
Clarke had so much to do before she left. So many things to prepare.
But she had promised—promised to return, with Raven and Octavia, to camp beneath the stars in the clearing Lexa had shown her.
And Lexa would be waiting.
As she always had.
As she always would.
---