SENSES

The next day, Mariamme eyed me suspiciously across the table while I wolfed down a huge pile of pancakes she had provided me. While she ate and watched, I strained to listen to the sounds of howls from a distance, my fingers quite literally trembling each time I heard one, and realized after a few seconds that it wasn’t him. 

Why wasn’t he showing up already?  

As I *wolfed* down the last of the pancakes and gulped down the freshly squeezed orange juice Mariamme had provided, my legs bounced beneath the table in excitement. Afterward, I pushed out of my seat—didn’t get out—the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “Are we going to the mountains today?” 

Mariamme looked up, stopping midchew, her head tilted to the side. “And why are you so eager today?” She squinted suspiciously. “Are we expecting something…”

“Something?” I drew out the word. 

Mariamme drawled. “Or someone?”

I squeaked. “Someone?”

Mariamme raised an eyebrow, her fork paused midair as she studied me closely. There was something about the way she watched me that made my heart skip a beat. She had always been keenly perceptive, and today was no different.

"Someone, huh?" Her voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, as if she knew something I didn’t want to admit.

I shrugged, my fingers tracing the rim of my glass. "What are you talking about?" I tried to sound casual, but my voice was higher than usual, betraying the nervous energy I couldn’t quite hide.

Mariamme’s eyes never left mine as she took another bite of her food. Her lips curved into a knowing smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you’re bouncing around this morning. Yesterday, I had to drag you out of bed. You sure you’re not expecting someone?”

My stomach tightened, and my pulse quickened. There was no way I could lie my way out of this. She knew. The only question was how much she knew.

I hesitated, looking down at the table, trying to figure out how to spin this. But Mariamme didn’t give me time to think. She pressed on, her voice suddenly firm, cutting through my indecision.

“Feyre, you’re not fooling anyone. What’s going on? You’re acting like a lovesick pup.” She leaned forward, her eyes sharp, scanning me like she was trying to read my very soul.

I opened my mouth, closed it again. I didn’t know where to start. The words were stuck in my throat, but I knew it was now or never. The truth had to come out, or Mariamme wouldn’t leave me alone.

Finally, I exhaled, the sound shaky. “I... I couldn’t sleep last night.” I paused, and her eyes softened, as though she knew I was about to spill everything. “I heard howls. A lot of them. And... and I thought it was him.”

Mariamme leaned back in her chair, her arms folded across her chest. “Him?”

“Trey,” I muttered, barely above a whisper.

The name seemed to hang in the air between us, and Mariamme’s expression flickered for a moment—something unreadable flashing across her face. But she didn’t push, not yet.

I took a deep breath and continued, feeling the weight of the confession crushing down on me. “I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I kept hearing the howls, and every time I thought it was him, I... I’d get excited, but it never was. Not him.” I stopped, biting my lip, the tension mounting. “But then... I saw the umbras.”

Mariamme’s eyebrows lifted, her interest piqued, but she didn’t say anything. She just waited for me to go on.

“I don’t know what happened,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But when he showed up—Trey—I... we kissed.” The words tumbled out of me in a rush, as if I were afraid they might escape if I didn’t say them all at once.

I glanced up at Mariamme, and she was watching me intently, her expression unreadable.

“Kissed?” she repeated slowly, her tone betraying no judgment, just a quiet curiosity.

I nodded, my face flushing despite myself. “Yes. We kissed. And... and I don’t know what it means, but I—I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I don’t even know if it was just... you know, a mistake, or if—” I broke off, my hands trembling as I gripped the edge of the table.

Mariamme studied me, her gaze piercing but not unkind. “A mistake?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head. “No. It didn’t feel like one. It felt...” I struggled for the right words, but nothing seemed to capture the intensity of what had happened. “It felt like everything shifted at that moment. Like something changed between us.”

Mariamme didn’t respond immediately. She just took a slow sip of her juice, her gaze never leaving mine. The silence stretched between us like a taut wire, and I felt as though I might explode from the pressure.

Then, finally, she spoke. “You really don’t know, do you?”

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

She set down her cup with a soft clink and leaned forward, her voice low and serious now. “Feyre, you’ve known him for how long? A day? And already you’re letting him get under your skin like this?” She shook her head, though there was a glimmer of something softer in her eyes. “That’s not just a kiss. That’s... something more.”

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of it. But I can’t deny how I feel when I’m around him. It’s like... I’m drawn to him, Mariamme. And when we kissed, it felt like something snapped into place. But I’m scared. What if it’s just because... of everything that’s going on? Or maybe I’m just being foolish, chasing something I shouldn’t?”

Mariamme’s lips twisted into a small, almost sad smile. “You’ve never been foolish, Feyre. But don’t mistake attraction for something more. You’re still figuring things out. Don’t let this—” she gestured vaguely, “—complicate things more than it already has.”

I nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. I didn’t have all the answers, but at least now I didn’t feel quite so alone in this tangled mess of emotions.

“You’re right,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Mariamme stood up, moving to the counter to clean up. “You don’t have to figure everything out all at once. Take your time, Feyre. Just... don’t let Trey take up too much of your headspace, alright?”

I stared at her for a moment, contemplating her words.

“I’ll try,” I said quietly, but deep down, I knew it was going to be harder than that.

We set out afterwards. Today, we weren’t heading up to the mountains, we were heading into the forest: Mariamme was going to teach me how to pick and differentiate sounds in the wild. I didn’t quite understand the concept but she mentioned something about blindfolds and straining to listen, picking the sounds in the forest, pinpointing where they came from and also what was making the sound. 

“To wake your dormant wolf, you need to be dead to the skin,” Mariamme said, her voice low and serious as we trudged through the forest. “Let it take over your five senses. Smell. Hearing. Sight, when it’s allowed. But more importantly, trust your instincts. They’ll guide you when your mind can’t.”

I nodded, trying to wrap my head around her words. It sounded so… abstract, like I had to tune out everything around me and let something inside take over.

We stopped in a small clearing, the trees looming high above, their branches whispering in the wind. The snow beneath our feet crunched with each step, but there was an eerie quietness in the air, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

Mariamme gestured to a nearby rock. “Sit. And close your eyes.”

I hesitated for a moment but did as she instructed. My legs ached slightly from the walk, but I ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. I felt her presence just beside me, the warmth of her body a stark contrast to the cold, but I refused to open my eyes.

“You’ll need to blindfold yourself to let go of your dependency on sight. Trust what you hear, smell, and feel. Let the world speak to you without your eyes interfering.”

Mariamme pulled out a cloth from her bag and handed it to me. I tied it around my head, plunging myself into darkness. The world shifted then, my other senses awakening to compensate for the loss of sight. The wind against my skin felt sharper, colder. My breath, heavier.

“Breathe deeply,” Mariamme instructed. “Feel your heart rate slow. Let the wild become a part of you. Don’t think about it. Just listen.”

I obeyed, closing my eyes beneath the blindfold. The sounds around me began to unravel. I heard the rustling of branches, the occasional creak of the trees shifting in the wind. A twig snapped somewhere to my left. I focused on it, trying to figure out what had caused the sound.

“Good,” Mariamme’s voice drifted through the air. “Now, take a deep breath. What do you smell?”

The sharp scent of pine filled my nose, mingling with the earthy dampness of the forest floor. My senses tingled, more alert than I’d ever been. A small, familiar scent flickered across the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place it. It was so faint, almost like a memory, teasing me just out of reach.

“Not just the trees, Feyre,” Mariamme’s voice was firm but patient. “You have to tune in. Don’t just inhale the air. Seek the layers beneath. The creatures hiding. The earth beneath your feet. Focus.”

I inhaled again, deeper this time. The fresh scent of earth and pine was still there, but now, I could sense something else—something sharper, more metallic. It reminded me of something… or someone. But I pushed it aside for the moment, focusing on the task at hand.

“Good,” Mariamme whispered, the praise slipping from her lips like a soft caress. “What else?”

I strained to listen. The snow beneath me shifted, and I could hear the light padding of footsteps far off in the distance, rhythmic and deliberate, but not human. My heart skipped a beat as the hairs on my arms prickled, a sense of danger bubbling up from somewhere deep inside.

“What is that?” I whispered, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

“Stay calm,” Mariamme’s voice was steady, reassuring. “Focus. Don’t let fear cloud your senses. Tell me what you hear. What else?”

I clenched my fists, the pulse of the wild thrumming beneath my skin. The noises were becoming clearer now, and my breath caught as I recognized the sound. Wolves. Their howls echoed in the distance, distant but unmistakable, filled with a longing that felt like it belonged to me.

“It’s them,” I whispered, a strange mix of exhilaration and unease settling in my chest. “I can hear them. Wolves.”

Mariamme let out a satisfied breath. “Good. That’s the first step, Feyre. You’re listening to the wild now.”

I let the moment sink in, my senses still alive with the sounds and smells of the forest around me. But something inside me stirred, something deeper, more primal. I felt a tugging sensation, like the forest was calling me, pulling me toward it.

“You’re not just hearing the wolves, are you?” Mariamme’s voice broke into my thoughts.

I shook my head, a little dazed. “No. I—there’s something else. I feel it.”

She smiled, her tone soft. “That’s your wolf. It’s waking up, piece by piece. Let it guide you. Trust it.”

I let out a shaky breath, my heart thumping in my chest. The tension in the air thickened as the distant howls grew louder, closer. The sound was almost like a song, pulling at me in a way I couldn’t explain.

Suddenly, I felt a presence—something moving, fast, dangerous, and close. I couldn’t tell whether it was a wolf or something else, but my instincts told me to be still, to wait.

Mariamme must’ve sensed my unease. “Keep your focus,” she warned, “and whatever you do, don’t move unless you have to. I’ll leave now, and be back in a few hours to allow you focus. Don’t move unless you have to.”

I held my breath, waiting, straining to hear more.