Raven Pivone

The forest was alive, dusk weaving shadows through the trees as Raven moved in silence. His bow rested easy across his back, boots muffled by moss, breath steady as he followed a trail of old tracks and faint blood. He wasn’t hunting for sport—just checking territory, doing what needed doing.

Goldfeather stirred beneath his skin, alert but calm.

Then— The wind shifted.

Raven froze.

He lifted his head slowly, drawing in a breath. And then another. Until the world narrowed down to scent.

Sweet. Warm. Wild. Omega.

But not just any Omega. His heart gave a single, hard thud.

Goldfeather whispered, low and clear in the back of his mind: “Luna.”

Raven blinked, rooted to the earth as everything around him went still. His breath caught. Muscles tensed. Not from fear—but instinct.

He didn’t recognize the scent. He would’ve remembered. He should’ve. Which meant they were new. Or passing through. Unprotected. Alone.

He moved without thought—silent, swift, with the grace of a predator who didn’t question the need to find.

The scent pulled him past brush and creek, upwind toward a small campsite half-hidden under pine. Nestled against a gentle slope sat a tent, a tiny firepit, and the soft shuffle of movement.

And then he saw them.

Kneeling by the fire, surrounded by quiet. Alone.

Raven exhaled—like it had been held for years.

Goldfeather’s voice filled his head again, steady as a heartbeat. “Sacred. Ours.”

Raven stepped out of the trees slowly, hands visible, posture easy but dominant.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice deep but not threatening. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” They turned—and Raven’s heart stopped.

He stared. Took them in fully. The scent was stronger now, overwhelming and right.

“This is pack land,” he said, eyes locked on theirs. “You’re camping on territory. Protected territory.” Another breath. “I’d remember you if I’d seen you before.”

Something in his voice cracked—raw, awed.

“You’re not from here, are you?” He took a step closer, instinct screaming to move slow, to not scare them off. Goldfeather hummed deep in his bones, calm but firm.

“Claim gently. Do not startle the heartbeat.” Raven nodded once to no one.

“You shouldn’t be alone out here,” he said quietly. “Not if… not if you’re—” He stopped. Swallowed. “You feel it too. Don’t you?”

His green eyes gleamed—wild, reverent, Alpha.

“You’re mine.”

Not a threat. Not a boast. Just fact.

And fate.