Falling For The Demon Wolf-Chapter 67: Garrick’s thoughts

The rogue camp slowly began to feel less like a foreign place and more like... a strange version of home.

By the third day, no one stared quite as long. The whispers hadn’t vanished, but they’d softened. And some even nodded at me in passing. That was something.

I didn’t stay idle.

Every morning, I woke early with the smell of ash and pine still clinging to the sky. Garrick said it was how my grandmother always started her days—with movement, with purpose. So I did too.

At first, I stuck close to Maelra, who had unofficially taken me under her wing. She wasn’t warm, but she didn’t scowl at me either, which felt like a blessing in this camp.

"You’ve got working hands, girl," she said one morning, slapping a lump of dough onto the flat stones by the fire. "Might as well use them."

So I did. I helped knead dough with cracked knuckles, stirred pots of bubbling root stew, and even gathered herbs with a sharp-eyed boy named Aric who couldn’t have been more than ten. He rarely spoke, but once offered me a wildflower and scurried off. It sat tucked into the folds of my cloak now.

There were children here—more than I expected. Little ones darted between tents like sparrows, muddy-faced and laughing. Their joy was stubborn. Pure. I helped wash their clothes in the river, taught a few how to shape small bundles of bread, and even chased a pair of them down when they tried to sneak off with a stolen jar of honey.

Life here wasn’t glamorous, but it pulsed with something real.

Later that week, I found myself tagging along with a small hunting party—three rogues and myself. I hadn’t planned on it, but I’d overheard them whispering that one of the snares had snapped, and without a word, my feet had moved before my thoughts could catch up.

The leader of the group, a tall woman named Eska with braided black hair and eyes that didn’t miss much, narrowed her gaze when I asked to join.

"You ever kill anything before?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"Ever track?"

"No," I admitted, "but I can follow. I can help."

She stared at me for a long, silent beat... then handed me a worn knife. "Stay behind me. Don’t freeze."

The forest around the camp was denser than the woods back home—darker, older. The scent of damp moss and fur and distant snow filled the air. My senses twitched with every snap of a twig.

We didn’t speak much. The group moved with quiet precision. Eska knelt often, fingers brushing the dirt, checking for fresh signs. I mirrored her as best I could, learning by watching.

We found a deer caught in a twisted snare, its leg bloodied but still breathing. One of the men murmured a soft apology before ending its pain with a swift strike.

I looked away, stomach tight, but didn’t flinch.

"You didn’t scream," Eska said later as we dragged the deer back. "Didn’t cry either."

"I’ve seen worse," I replied.

That night, I helped skin the kill and portion the meat. My fingers stung from the cold, my arms ached, but there was something grounding about it. Like I was earning my place here inch by inch.

Around the fire, Eska handed me a bowl of roasted venison and gave a nod that almost passed as approval.

"You keep showing up like this," she said, "and people might just stop treating you like a ghost."

I didn’t answer right away. I stared into the flames, letting the smoke sting my eyes

That evening, as the firelight cast flickering shadows across the camp, Maelra touched my arm and nodded toward the far edge—where the elder’s tent stood slightly apart from the others.

"He’s asking for you," she said simply.

I didn’t ask who. I already knew.

I wiped my hands on the cloth tied around my waist, set aside the pot I’d been stirring, and made my way to Garrick’s side of the camp. The air grew quieter the farther I walked, the voices of the others fading behind me. It was darker here, colder too. A low wind stirred the edge of the old tarped walls like whispers that had yet to settle.

"Come in," Garrick called before I even reached the flap.

I stepped inside.

His tent was surprisingly warm, lined with old furs and the faint smell of lavender and ash. There was a brazier crackling in the corner, and several worn books stacked haphazardly near a small table. Garrick sat on a cushion by the fire, cloaked in a heavy shawl that looked like it belonged to someone else.

He didn’t look up at first. "How are you adjusting, Violet?"

I sat slowly across from him, folding my legs beneath me. "Trying," I said honestly. "It’s... different. But not in a bad way."

"You’re learning fast." He smiled faintly. "They like you more than they admit."

I raised a brow. "You sure about that? Half of them barely speak to me

I see you’ve made some allies," he said without looking up. "Even got Maelra to smile today."

"She made me carry water barrels twice my size," I muttered, brushing dust from my hands. "That was her version of a compliment."

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. "That’s exactly what it was."

I moved to sit across from him. The warmth of the fire was welcome after the cold air outside, but the heat in his eyes when he finally looked at me was something else entirely—something measured, searching.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" he asked after a beat.

My brow furrowed. "Feel what?"

"This... pull. Like the earth remembers you, and the wind won’t let you pass without bowing."

I hesitated. "I thought I was imagining it."

"You’re not. Liora had that too."

I looked away at the sound of her name. "You told me she was a Seer."

"She was," he confirmed. "But not in the way most think. Visions didn’t just come to her in dreams. They came in touch. Smell. Movement. She would brush her fingers over a tree and see ten winters ahead. Sit beside someone and feel the sickness they’d carry years from now. She called it being tied to the ’threads beneath the skin.’" He paused. "And I think you have it too."

A strange flutter moved through my chest. "I’m not like her."

"No. You’re not." He leaned forward slightly, tone softening. "You’re more raw. Untamed. Your sight is still buried, but it’s waking. I see it in your eyes when you look at the forest like it’s speaking to you."

"I don’t see anything," I whispered, frustrated. "I don’t dream of wars or blood or prophecy."

"You will."

That settled in my bones like an omen.

"What do you want from me, Garrick?" I asked, folding my arms tightly across my chest. "Why tell me all this? You could’ve left me in that tent and let me figure things out on my own."

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached behind him and pulled out a folded cloth. When he unraveled it, I saw a small pendant—old, worn, and shaped like a crescent moon laced with thorns.

"This belonged to Liora," he said. "She gave it to me the day before she walked into the woods and never came back. Told me to keep it until her blood returned."

My breath caught.

"I didn’t know what she meant. Not for years. But now—" he paused, eyes locking onto mine, "—you’re here."

I stared at the pendant. "What do I do with that?"

He placed it gently into my palm. "Whatever you’re meant to."

The metal was cold at first. But then... it wasn’t. It felt familiar. Like something that had been mine in another life.

"There’s going to be more coming your way, Violet," Garrick said as I clutched the pendant tightly. "More truths. More pain. And maybe more purpose than you’re ready for."

My voice came out quieter than I wanted. "And if I’m not ready?"

"You will be," he said simply. "Liora wasn’t born a Seer. She became one... when the world demanded it of her."

"So what you are trying to say is, whatever that is in me that was passed down by my grandmother mother will soon me awaken?" I asked still looking at the pendant in my eyes.

"Child" Garrick called softly, "there are things that exists beyond our mere eyes in this world, and something’s we need the ability to see them before anyone does"

"This thing in you is a gift, don’t see it any other way."

I stared into the fire that was growing brighter by the minute like it sensed the tension in the room.

No only do I have a wolf bloodline now my grandmother was a seer too?

I need Zain

I need my mate.

But instead I turned to Garrick and nodded, "is there anybook or anything I could read about this whole situation?"

He smiled widely seeing his was ready to accept my fate.

"I’ve been waiting for you to ask." Garrick got up and walked across the room to an old tired shelf that looked like even the slightest wind could take it down.

He hunched over his mini library, hiking an old song I’ve heard once back and the pack house.

"Here." He said handing me a large book, surprisingly the pages were still intact and not chewed away by rats.

"You’ll find every answer that you need here."

"Thank Garrick....for everything." I said turning to leave the tent

"And violet?" He called stopping me in my tracks. "You may need your mate sooner than you expect."