BEFORE

Elena's birthday was tomorrow. 

The little girl, on the brink of turning eleven, couldn't be less thrilled about it.

Why, you might wonder?

One would think she'd revel in the festivities. The fairy-tale themed party, complete with cupcakes with frosting so blue it looked like a Smurf had exploded, apple tarts that seemed to have been baked by actual fairies, a cake that towered like a fortress (RIP last year's castle cake, thanks to Marco's antics), and a whole assortment of other sugary delights perfect for a cavity or two.

And let's not forget the costumes of her friends. 

Rex, prancing about as a majestic pink unicorn, his horn threatening to poke pack members'butts and balloons alike, Marco as the quintessential medival prince charming with his wooden sword and leotard, and Giulia, donning the Cinderella attire—ironic, considering her aversion to household minimum chores like making her own bed and her less-than-amicable relationship with mice.

It was almost enough to distract Elena from the impending doom of turning eleven.

She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring her costume. A red cape draped over her shoulders  like a royal cloak, a striking contrast to her golden locks bouncing with every spin.

A twinge of excitement rippled through her at the thought of being seen as a forest fairy princess by the pack members invited. Beneath the cape, her cream-colored dress looked yummy, reminding her of the cupcake mixture she had helped whip up earlier in the packhouse's kitchen.

The Moon Goddess found the little Alpha daughter's choice of attire rather amusing... little did Elena know, her costume would soon become all too fitting. 

The big bad wolf might as well just be lurking in the woods in that moment....

Despite the excitement buzzing around her, Elena couldn't shake off the heavy feeling in her chest. Another year on her shoulders and she was already feeling the weight of it!

Elena suffered from a severe case of Peter Pan syndrome—a reluctance to grow up. In her eyes, the world was a sheltered magical place where imagination reigned supreme, filled with endless games in the pack house with her best friends and runs in the dim twilight of the summer midnights, listening to the murmurs of the forest with her daddy.

The thought of trading in those carefree moments for the responsibilities and complexities of adulthood was just unacceptable and she had already decided not  to let adulthood take over.

On that gloomy November afternoon, without telling anyone, with heavier shoulders and all, Elena set off on a solo adventure, zigzagging around the edge of the woods. 

With a basket swinging from her arm and the red hood atop her head, she skipped along, humming Sailor Moon song.

As Elena wandered, she plucked flowers, gathered herbs, and scooped up soft mud, her mind drifting between thoughts of potential birthday gifts and concocting new muddy potions, which she couldn't wait to trick Rex into drinking later.

She also collected mushrooms that Marco would have liked. Back then, he enjoyed identifying and collecting all types of mushrooms, documenting them in a secret notebook hidden under a loose floorboard in his bedroom. 

Step by step, flower by flower, little Elena ventured further away from the safety of the pack.

Meanwhile, a boy was also navigating through the forest.

While Elena searched for flowers and mushrooms, he was on the hunt for something entirely different.

The two children seemed to belong to opposite worlds, and indeed they did.

Between them lay No Man's Land, where trees and tangled bushes fought for space and sunlight, creating a barrier between their worlds.

The boy looked like a tall, lanky teenager, his hair reaching his shoulders in a wild tangle.

Despite his height, his cheeks still held baby fat, and his melancholy dark blue eyes had that dreamy look only kids can manage.

His bare feet trampled the raw earth and occasionally kicked pebbles off the main path as he explored every nook and cranny. 

Every now and then he sprung up into the trees and travel ahead as fast as on the ground, leaping from limb to limb, never falling. He seemed as much at home among the trees as on the ground - his friend Rolando teased him, calling him a tarzanic wolf. 

Sometimes the boy crept and spied on bird nests or watched herds of deer, while other times he let his inner beast take control, prowling through the undergrowth to hunt the same deer he had spied on. His wolf would also thrust his nose into the cool wood moss, or the dark soil where tall grasses grew, and snort happily at every new earthy discovery.

Despite the myriad scents and interesting things happening all around, reading signs and sounds as humans liked to read books, that day an irresistible impulses seized him and pushed him towards the south. 

Miles away, Elena marvelled at an almost mournful-looking lilac cyclamen, its delicate petals resembling the wings of tiny fairies.

Still not having a wolf of her own, she was oblivious to the monstrous black wolf with the strangest pair of purple eyes observing her every move with keen interest from the top of a dark grey boulder.

He had dispatched men before, and they had all died too easily. Killing a wild wolf proved harder than killing them. This child that reeked of his enemy, as everyone outside or something inside his pack was his enemy, had to be silenced and turned into nothing more than a lifeless husk.

This particular Alpha had ventured into these unclaimed woods to clandestinely monitor from afar his only male heir and future Alpha of his pack. Through his watchful gaze, he noted that his son was steadily approaching from the opposite direction of the plump girl with that funny-looking, impractical attire and even more impractical basket.

He was no ordinary werewolf; no detail escaped his keen senses. It was one of the reasons he still drew breath.

Of all the directions his son could have chosen, his father noticed the significance of the frequent visits to this particular part of the woods.

Something within him stirred. With a newfound leniency, a quality utterly foreign to him, he allowed the little girl to grow up and celebrate her eleven years of life.

As the most feared Alpha journeyed back to his pack, to scheme and rule, his thoughts lingered on the blonde child with that peculiar red cape and a basket filled with useless items.

He would have never guessed that it was the first and only time he saw the future Luna of Black Devil... the first his pack had ever had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An exasperated Alpha Giacomo grabbed his daughter's arm, his face a mix of concern and frustration. "How many times do I have to tell you not to wander off in this direction? It's like a buffet for trouble out here!" He scolded, gently tugging her back towards safety.

"I know, Daddy. I'm sorry," she mumbled, her lower lip protruding in her classic pout, tears welling up in her forest green eyes.

Alpha Giacomo, utterly smitten with his precious daughter, cursed under his breath before squatting down to her level. "Do you want Daddy to assign you a bodyguard again? I thought at almost eleven, you'd be ready to fend off danger on your own, sweetheart." He planted a kiss on her temple, trying to soothe her after his speech.

"No," she muttered sheepishly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I don't need one. I promise! And this red cap made me look witchey!"

Alpha Giacomo couldn't help but chuckle at his daughter's innocency, shaking his head fondly as he scooped her up into his arms. Hastening their pace, he refrained from glancing around.

He already took note of the pregnant silence of the forest, of how the bird life had flitted, and the squirrels were in hiding.

He knew all too well what lurked out there, and he wasn't about to confront it. Not with his daughter right there.

Unbeknownst to Elena, the lilac cyclamen she had collected had slipped from her grasp and lay forgotten on the forest floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime later, as the first veil of night draped over the land and father and daughter had reached the border of the pack, a shadow materialized from the darkness.

Something had piqued his curiosity.

In the middle of the path lay a lone cyclamen.

The shadow had dark eyebrows that furrowed as he picked up the delicate flower, its presence puzzling him. 

Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled deeply and a strange sense of calm washing over him. Without a second thought, he tucked the flower behind his ear and bounded back to the tree branch he had leaped from, resuming his nocturnal excursions, a few rogues tried to escape from him.

Little did he realize, it was the first time he had caught a whiff, albeit faint and almost imperceptible, of the scent of his future love.

Meanwhile, Elena remained oblivious to the fact that her flower had been plucked by the very boy who would one day capture her heart.