The months slipped by like leaves carried on the current of the river that cut through the hidden valley where Andreia had settled. It was a simple little place where no one dared to go. She was safe.
Here, time seemed to follow a different rhythm — slower, gentler. The forest guarded this small piece of the world with the same devotion a mother shows a sleeping child.
The house was simple, built from old wood and stone, covered in ivy and moss. It didn't exist on any pack's map or along any common witch's path. It had been chosen by the land itself and by the Moon.
It was there that Andreia gave birth. The night of the delivery was quiet, broken only by the distant sound of owls and the soft wind rocking the trees.
Andreia would decide later what to do and where to move. But that night, the moon bathed her and held her through every moment of pain and blessing.
The full moon hung high and constant, watching. There was no unbearable pain, no fear.
Only strength. When the baby's cry echoed for the first time, the entire forest seemed to sigh in relief.
She was beautiful from the very first instant — warm skin, hair dark as a starless night, and a soft glow behind her closed eyes, almost silver, as if the moon had left its mark there.
Andreia took her into her arms with reverent care, feeling a love so deep it nearly hurt.
"Kim..." she whispered, choosing the name that had appeared in her heart long before this moment. "My little light."
The baby calmed immediately, as though she recognized her mother's voice. In that instant, Andreia knew — it had all been worth it. The escape, the loneliness, the fear. All of it.
Days later, while her body was still recovering and a routine was beginning to take shape, Andreia felt that familiar presence again — not the moon, but magic.
The young woman appeared at dawn, emerging from the narrow trail that led to the house. She had red hair pinned up carelessly, clothes too plain to hide the aura surrounding her, and watchful, curious, ancient eyes.
"Am I late?" the witch said, before Andreia could ask a single question.
Andreia wasn't startled. She simply nodded.
"So she's the one who sent you."
The witch smiled.
"My mother doesn't usually get her omens wrong. When the Moon calls, we listen," the redhead replied. "Come on — I've already arranged everything for your new home."
Her name was Elowen. Too young to seem experienced, too experienced to be merely young. A witch of the deep forest, tied to the ancient lines of magic, sent not to watch over them but to help.
Elowen took mother and daughter to a safe house she'd prepared. She helped Andreia strengthen the natural seals of the valley, taught her simple enchantments to confuse anyone tracking them, and mixed herbs that concealed scents and supernatural presences. She didn't ask too many questions, and Andreia offered no answers beyond what was necessary.
It was the beginning of an unexpected friendship.
"She's calm," Elowen remarked one afternoon, watching Kim sleep in her mother's arms. "Very calm. My magic will always make sure of that."
Andreia smiled, running her fingers through her daughter's hair.
"It's still early."
"Yes," the witch agreed. "Her powers are dormant. Stored away. As they should be."
The Moon had been clear: Kim would awaken when the time was right. Forcing it would be dangerous. So Andreia dedicated herself to simply being a mother — teaching the sound of laughter, the comfort of touch, the warmth of home. She just didn't expect that this would be what strengthened the little one's powers.
Meanwhile, the world beyond the forest was far from peaceful. News arrived in fragments — carried by wandering spirits, animal messengers, and Elowen's carefully chosen words. Maximo was still searching.
After the wedding, something inside him had broken for good. He'd crossed neutral territories, challenged lesser alphas, destroyed human villages suspected of hiding "a powerful she-wolf." Everywhere he went, he left marks of violence, as if trying to fill the absence of something he would never have again.
"He can't accept that he lost you," Elowen explained one night. "And it's driving him mad."
Andreia listened in silence, cradling Kim against her chest.
"He'll never find me," she said at last. It wasn't arrogance. It was certainty.
"No," the witch agreed. "This place doesn't answer to hatred. My enchantments mask the scent of your blood."
"And my mother made sure no one can track my powers."
Andreia knew that if she wanted to, she could still feel Maximo. The old bond still existed on some level — a spiritual scar that never fully disappears.
But she had learned to close that door. Her powers, inherited and awakened, were safely stored away, sealed beneath layers of instinct and lunar magic.
She didn't need to be found. She only needed to exist.
Mornings filled with the smell of fresh bread, with the sound of Kim babbling half-formed words, with Andreia's light footsteps as she walked barefoot across the damp garden soil.
At night, she howled softly to the moon — not in supplication, but in gratitude. The Moon always answered.
Not always with words. Sometimes with dreams. Other times with a gentle breeze or a brighter gleam reflected in Kim's eyes as she slept.
Andreia watched her daughter grow slowly — healthy, serene. She knew the world would come knocking one day. Prophecies can't be avoided forever, only postponed until they're ready.
And when that day came, Andreia would no longer be the rejected she-wolf. She would be the mother of the Moon's heir.
The guardian of balance. The woman who chose love over a throne. For now, though, all that mattered was the safe silence of the valley, the quiet heart of her sleeping daughter, and the deep certainty that, for the first time, they were exactly where they were meant to be.
ANDREIA
KIM
MAXIMO
ELOWEN
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