Íme a nem szó szerinti, lírai angol fordítás a Tizedik fejezethez, Rowena szemszögéből, megtartva a lassú gyógyulás,
Rowena's POV
More than a month had passed since I fled.
Not running.
Not screaming.
Not shattered in the way they expected me to be.
My body was wounded, my soul even more so, but my legs carried me forward with certainty. When I crossed the point where Derek's land no longer had a scent, I didn't look back.
Since then, I've remained in Selene's form.
Not because I couldn't shift back—but because she asked me to. And because she promised to keep me safe. The promise wasn't loud or ceremonial, but when a wolf gives her word, it is not something to dismiss lightly.
Selene became my shadow.
And I became hers.
In the beginning, we simply walked. There was no direction, no destination—only distance. With every step, the tightness in my chest eased, as if the strain of the bond were slowly loosening. It didn't break. I knew that. I felt it. But it no longer strangled me.
The pain dulled.
The anger quieted.
Only the memories remained—and even those no longer burned the same way.
Time moved differently after I left.
It no longer divided itself into days and weeks, but into breaths. Into the rhythm of Selene's steps. Into the slow, steady calming of my heart. Sometimes hours passed without a single thought; other times I buckled beneath the weight of one memory—but I didn't fall apart anymore.
The forest didn't ask questions.
That was its greatest gift.
The trees didn't know who I was. They didn't care about titles, promises, or bonds. They only noticed how I breathed. How I moved. How I learned to inhabit my body again. The softness of the ground beneath my paws slowly drew me back to myself, as if with each step I reclaimed a piece of what I'd left behind.
Sometimes Selene vanished among the trees.
Not because she left me—how could she? We were never separate. The same body moved, the same soul breathed; only my awareness learned to shift its focus. When I ran wrapped in fur, she was instinct. When I thought, I was the question. We didn't divide—we exchanged roles.
And whenever I returned fully to myself, that deep, certain calm was there. It didn't come from outside.
It came from me.
From us.
Even hunger was no longer an enemy.
It taught me patience. It taught me to listen to my body's true signals, not the voice of panic. When I finally ate, there was no greed—only gratitude. The quiet celebration of survival.
At night, the world wore a different face. Darkness didn't threaten; it covered me gently. The stars felt close enough to touch if I stood tall enough. Selene would lie beside me then, her body warm and solid, and I let sleep take me without fear.
Sometimes I woke suddenly.
Not screaming—just abruptly, as if my body remembered something my mind refused to revisit. Selene was always there. She didn't speak. She didn't ask. She simply stayed.
And that was enough.
Slowly, the world took on new meaning. The pain didn't vanish, but it no longer defined everything. The scars no longer throbbed as weakness, but as proof: I survived. And every day I walked beside Selene was another choice—for life.
When we reached higher ground, the wind caught in my fur and suddenly it felt as if the edges of my body blurred. As if I weren't just looking at the valley, but belonged to it. The land didn't reject me.
It received me.
Standing there, I understood something I'd only sensed before:
I hadn't lost everything.
Only what was never truly mine.
Selene's gaze didn't point to the future then—it anchored itself in the present. In that rare, fragile moment where moving forward isn't necessary, because being here is enough. Because I'm breathing. Because I'm choosing.
And for the first time, I dared to imagine that one day…
I wouldn't return.
I would arrive.
Selene hunted.
Not in haste. Not in rage. The way a seasoned, patient wolf does—reading the wind, the tremble of undergrowth, the subtle vibrations of the earth. She taught without meaning to teach.
Watch.
Don't trust your eyes alone.
Feel.
When she brought down her first prey, she didn't let me eat immediately. She waited while I circled the area, scenting it. I had to learn: survival isn't just strength.
It's respect.
We avoided pack territories.
All of them.
Not just Derek's land—every pack's. Selene knew exactly where those invisible lines lay, the ones most wolves respect instinctively. When we drew too close, her body tensed and we turned away. She didn't explain.
She didn't need to.
Why? I asked once, silently.
Selene didn't answer right away. She kept moving until the air felt free again, until the ground carried no foreign scent.
Borders are stories, she finally said. And right now, we don't want to be part of anyone else's story.
That was the moment I understood: Selene wasn't hiding.
She was waiting.
As time passed, the world opened before me—forests deeper than any memory, rivers that never asked where I came from, mountains that watched us with indifference, as if to say: you are only a moment here.
And that was comforting.
I didn't have to be a Luna.
I didn't have to be strong.
I didn't have to meet anyone's expectations.
Beside Selene, I simply… existed.
At night, when the moon climbed high, we would stop. Selene would lift her gaze to it, and I would follow. We didn't howl. We didn't call anyone.
We just watched as its silver light shimmered across her fur.
Where are we going? I asked one such night.
Selene didn't look at me.
I'm showing you the world, she replied.
And after that?
Silence.
Then:
You'll see.
The answer soothed and unsettled me at once. There was care in it… and secrecy. Selene knew something I didn't yet. I felt it in her movements, her decisions, in the way she sometimes lingered too long on the stars.
I didn't press her.
One day, as we passed through ancient, abandoned ruins, I stopped. A strange calm hung among the stones, as if the place remembered something no one else did.
Another wolf has been here, I said.
Selene nodded.
Long ago.
Did you know them?
Not in the way you're thinking.
Her voice was cautious—like stepping onto thin ice.
Selene… I began, then fell silent.
Not now, she said gently.
And I let it go.
Because I was learning. Learning to trust her. Learning that not every answer needs to be born immediately. Some things must ripen—like scars.
Sometimes—rarely—I felt him.
Not Don.
Not Derek.
The bond.
It came like a distant echo, no longer followed by pain. I didn't call. I didn't answer. Selene would draw closer then, grounding me with her warmth, pulling me back into the present.
Not now, she'd say. The past can wait.
And I believed her.
At dawn one morning, when the sun was only a promise beyond the horizon, Selene led me to a high place. Below us stretched a valley—untouched, wild, and breathtaking.
She stopped.
Stared at it for a long time.
This… I began.
This is where you'll rest, she said.
For how long?
Selene looked at me then. Truly. Not as a wolf. Not as a guide.
But as a companion.
Until you're ready.
Ready for what?
Her answer still wasn't direct.
To stop running.
And start choosing.
And then I understood: Selene hadn't hidden me.
She had awakened me.
The world isn't an enemy.
Borders aren't prisons.
The bond isn't a sentence.
They only become those things if I allow them to.
As the sun rose, its light swept across the land. Selene sat beside me, her fur warm, familiar.
I didn't ask any more questions.
Because for the first time…
I wasn't afraid of the answers.