Page 22 of Wolf Proclaimed

"Take care of her, Bastian," she said, her voice carrying the weight of a mother's love and something more. A plea. A trust.

With a final squeeze of my shoulder, Gretel turned and walked away. I watched her form recede into the shadows of the woods, heading back to Petra's pack atop Magic Mountain. Alone once more, I returned my attention to the underbrush. My Mira was in there, lost and confused. And I was helpless, my heart full of love but bereft of the memories that once made it meaningful.

I'd approached the underbrush with as much caution as possible, every step slow and measured. In her wolf form, Mira was inside a tangled ball of fear and confusion. I needed to reach her and convince her to return to the reality that awaited her.

"Mira," I started, my voice a steady whisper, purposefully calm to counter her chaos. "You need to shift back. You can't continue this way."

Her response was immediate and raw – a menacing growl that resonated deep within her chest. A clear sign that she wasn't ready for my suggestions. But I had to persist. I needed her to understand.

"I get it, Mira," I said gently, knowing she might not understand my words but hoping my tone conveyed my intentions. "You're scared, you can't remember... but this place," I gestured around us, "is where you belong. You live here with me."

Her growling quietened, replaced by a pitiful whimpering. The sound was gut-wrenching, a poignant reminder of the torment she was going through. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "Please, Mira," I pleaded.

The standoff continued, time seemingly slowing as I awaited her decision. Then, finally, she began to shift from the fearsome wolf back into the woman who had unknowingly captured my heart. Her eyes, wide with fear and uncertainty, looked into mine.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze locked onto mine.

"I'm Bastian," I replied, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "I'm your mate, Mira."

Her gaze glancing toward the village. "And this?" She asked, gesturing vaguely around us with her free hand. "This is my life?"

With a sense of relief washing over me, I nodded. "Yes, Mira. This is your life. Our life."

The journey back to the cabin was long and painstaking. Every few steps, she would stop, her gaze drifting over the surroundings as if the world was brand new to her. "What is this place?" She asked in a small voice that was nearly lost to the wind.

"Our home, Mira," I answered, taking a deep breath to steady my voice. "The cabin... we live here together."

Her brows furrowed, her eyes darting around the familiar path leading to our cabin, now appearing foreign to her. "Together?" Her voice was choked with confusion.

"Yes," I affirmed, a lump forming in my throat. "We're mates, Mira... and more. We're lovers."

At that, her steps faltered, and she halted, staring at me with wide eyes. I watched as various emotions flickered across her face—surprise, confusion, fear. Then, as though a dam had burst, tears welled up and cascaded down her cheeks.

"Mira..." I whispered, reaching out to her. But as my hand brushed against her arm, she recoiled, pushing me away.

"No..." she whimpered, shaking her head, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. "I don't remember... I don't remember any of this. I don't remember you!"

My heart ached as I watched her struggle with the reality of our relationship. I wanted to comfort her, to hold her close and assure her that everything would be okay. But she was terrified, and I was the cause of that fear.

As the day turned into night, I watched over her from a distance, a spectator in this cruel twist of fate. She was so close, her body only inches from mine on the bed we had once shared with such intimacy. Now, it was a chasm filled with the ghostly memories of our past.

The familiar rhythm of her breathing was slow and steady, a stark contrast to the rapid thumping of my heart. I could see the slight tremors in her body, a physical manifestation of her internal turmoil. Every shudder sent a jolt through my heart, a poignant reminder of her fear and confusion. And I felt helpless, unable to ease her distress.

The uncertainty of what the next day would bring haunted my thoughts, casting long, sinister shadows over my mind. My worries filled a hollow space of our once-shared dreams.

I yearned for her to remember, to return to me. I longed to see that spark of recognition in her eyes, feel her warm embrace, and hear her laugh. I wished for our shared secrets and the comfortable silence that spoke volumes about our deep understanding.

But I feared that Mira, the woman I loved, was lost in a void of her own. She was adrift in a sea of confusion and fear, with no memories to anchor her. And I, who promised to protect and love her, was forced to watch her ordeal from the shore, desperately reaching out but unable to pull her back.

As I lay beside her, listening to the rhythmic sound of her breathing, I made a silent vow. I would help her navigate through this tumultuous sea. I would be her beacon, guiding her back home, back to me. Even if it meant starting all over again, I was willing to fight, for her, for us.

When I awoke the following day, the first rays of sunlight were beginning to pierce the horizon. I turned to see Mira to assure myself that she was still there. But the space beside me was empty. The silence of the cabin left a sinking feeling in my heart.

"She's gone," I whispered to the empty room. The realization was like a punch to the gut. "Mira's gone." Somewhere out there, Mira was alone, lost in a world she no longer recognized.

Chapter Eleven

The Echoes Within

---