It was midday when Michael found himself roaming the Woodlands. He was not headed in any particular direction, just simply waiting for the fairy to find him as she always did.

The late-night snowfall left the ground covered in inches of thick snow. With the sun being hidden behind the clouds, and the sudden drop in temperature over the last few days, he could not foresee the snow melting away anytime soon. It seemed winter did not want to go out without a bang.

He walked and walked, and continued to walk until the hairs on the back of his neck stood up—the telltale sign he was being watched.

There used to be something unsettling about walking through the territory of his enemy. Now, the unsettling feeling had less to do with being behind enemy lines and more to do with the unfair advantage the fairy had to easily find him and not the other way around.

He scanned the area around him, but doing so only confirmed he was visibly alone. Even though he could not see her, he knew she was close, and wondered if she was hidden behind an invisibility spell like the last time.

"You can come out!" He yelled.

He waited while minutes passed by, but she continued to remain hidden.

He began to feel annoyed and slightly angry. He had come to the Woodlands to fill her in on the plan, not play hide and seek.

But then he thought back to when she had last hidden herself—the cluster of trees that remained perfectly still despite the rustling trees surrounding them—and began to look for a similar sign in order to locate her.

He looked amongst the trees around him, but the lack of breeze made it difficult for that plan to work.

He sighed. "You can trust me, you know."

Suddenly, Michael felt a shiver run down his spine. He looked ahead, then to his left and right, but saw nothing. It was only when he turned around that he saw the fairy standing no more than ten feet away.

Underneath the hood of her black cloak, her hair was twisted into a side braid just like it had been the first time they met. Despite facing him, her head was lowered, as if she refused to look at or acknowledge him.

Thrilled their game was over, he took a step towards her, but she responded by taking a step back. That action immediately told him she did not, in fact, trust him.

And he could not blame her.

They had only met twice, and the second meeting consisted of him telling her she had to leave the only home she had ever known because of his wants and needs.

He had told her it was what she should want, but had not asked if it truly was what she desired.

Since he could not approach her, he, instead, looked at the fairy—took a really good look—and realized her head was not down in defiance but in submission. Her eyes had not refused to meet his, they could not. She had magic on her side but chose not to use it against him when she so easily could.

She was not a threat, and was only trying to protect herself in the one place she should have felt most protected.

He understood her caution, but, still, it bothered him.

"If you do not trust me, how can I trust you?"

She finally looked up. When her brown eyes connected with his, his earlier annoyance and anger began to recede as he realized his error in asking such a question.

Because it was not the same. It just was not. Her distrust of him was not the same as his distrust for her. For a century, her people had been confined to the Woodlands and unable to step foot outside of it because of his people and the Witches. A year ago, the Wolves meant to slaughter the Fae, which forced them to flee this world and seek safety in another.

It would never be the same.

And Michael felt ashamed for even feeling those few minutes of anger and annoyance over her doing what she believed necessary to protect herself from him.

"I am sorry. I just...I only want to talk. Can we go somewhere to talk?"

He could not do much to make her trust him, but what little he could do was give her the power to choose whether she wanted to or not.

She casted her gaze back to the snowy ground, and he took her silence to mean she was unwilling. But then she surprised him when she turned to her left and started walking. Her pace was not too fast, nor too slow, which suggested she wanted him to follow.

So, he did.

He followed close behind, letting her lead the way. Letting this be on her terms.

* * *

"When will you tell me your name?"

Like all the other questions Michael had asked in an attempt to break the ice before transitioning into discussing the plan, that one, too, was ignored.

He did not know how long they had been walking, only that the longer the journey became, the more he started to wonder if letting her lead had been the right choice.

"Are we almost there?"

Wherever there was.

If there even was a there.

Did he think she was luring him to his death? Not exactly. But his mind was hard at work, convincing him the deeper they went into the Woodlands—with no clear destination in sight—the less likely anybody would hear his calls for help should things take a drastic turn and she attacked him.

And the harder it would be to find his body.

So, he kept a watchful eye on her.

But instead of watching for any sudden movements, he found himself captivated by the graceful air in her walk. When he should have been monitoring her pace—whether it quickened or slowed at any point—he, instead, was working hard to shorten the distance between them. When he should have been asking the many questions he had—how she had survived and gone undetected for so long, why she had been left behind—he chose to maintain the silence rather than break it.

She suddenly stopped next to a tree, placed her hand against its trunk and bent over slightly.

He also stopped, and watched the quick rise and fall off her shoulders. She was trying to catch her breath.

It had been the third time she had done so since they started walking, the previous times had not lasted more than a few seconds. Even though he wanted to ask if she was okay, he assumed she would not answer.

But when this break lasted longer than the others, he figured now was as good a time as any to talk about the plan.

"The door that you were guarding. Do you know how to open it?"

Considering she was stuck in the Woodlands, he figured either she did not know how, or simply could not. Perhaps both.

He anticipated another ignored question, but was surprised when the fairy answered.

"The door cannot be opened." She turned her head to the side, but kept her back towards him. "Not without help."

The realization that she had no choice but to be stuck for a year—because she was alone with nobody around to help—made Michael feel bad for her.

"Because you need a witch. More specifically, you need dark magic. Am I right?"

He must have lucked out with the answer he received seconds prior because it seemed she was back to ignoring him.

"I am trying to enlist the help of one."

"And why would a witch help a fairy?"

"The Witches helped the Fae once. Is it so unbelievable they would help again?"

"Not unbelievable, just foolish."

He took offence to that. Not because it bothered him to hear her call the Witches foolish, but because it felt like she was calling him foolish, as well.

He walked up to her, grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. He stared down at her and waited for her to look at him.

She first looked down at his grip on her arm, then slowly lifted her head.

He was ready to ask her to elaborate the moment their eyes connected, but the moment never came because instead of meeting his gaze, the fairy looked off in the distance behind him.

He turned his head to follow her gaze, but saw nothing other than the trees as they began to sway back and forth. He thought nothing of it until realization hit him—there was no breeze to cause them to.

He looked back at the fairy. "What is it?"

She turned her head and looked him straight in the eyes. "Somebody has entered."

He released his hold on her arm and took a step back.

Was that how she knew whenever he or anybody entered the Woodlands?

Again, he looked at the surrounding trees until they stilled completely.

It must have been one of the Wolves. Had someone come looking for him?

He was certain he had not been seen leaving the castle, and there had been nothing in the day's schedule that required his presence.

Had his father and Damien come into the Woodlands again?

Michael let out a sigh.

He had not gotten the chance to even discuss the plan and he already had to go. Leaving the castle to enter the Woodlands was becoming more difficult, and he did not know when he would be able to come back. But he could not risk being tracked, or the fairy being seen.

He turned his head and looked at the fairy. "You should get to safety."

He had no doubt she would. She had gone undetected for so long, and even had certain measures put in place to let her know whenever someone entered the Woodlands.

He waited for her to move but, instead of leaving, she continued to look at him.

"Go," he said firmly before turning his back to her. "I will take care of it."

* * *

As Michael ran through the Woodlands, he kept his eyes on the rustling trees and followed their lead as the fairy instructed before he left her.

He was determined to find the intruder and get them out as quickly as possible.

If the situation had not been so urgent, he might have taken the time to at least commit the path to memory, but time was not on his side.

Just as he came upon a turn, his body, of its own accord, came to a stop.

Moments like that were rare, and only happened when his wolf—caged up until the next full moon—wanted Michael's attention.

He looked around, but, other than a fallen tree off in the distance to his left, saw nothing out of the ordinary.

He did not know why his wolf wanted his attention, but once he regained control, he was off once again.

After what seemed like an endless series of twists and turns whenever the trees prompted him to do so, Michael was finally able to come to a stop when the trees stilled.

They had taken him to the intruder.

It was Lukas.

Up ahead about thirty feet or so, the guard stood facing him. He would not say he was happy to see him, only relieved it had not been his father.

Michael looked directly at Lukas and began walking towards him. When he reached him, he cut straight to the chase.

"Why are you here?"

He hoped the guard would not ask him the same question in return.

"To tell you to return to the castle immediately."

"And why is that?"

"Aria and a few other witches have arrived. They have requested an audience with the pack."

Michael stared at Lukas. Nothing in his expression nor body language suggested he was lying.

When did the castle become a place for people to come and go as they pleased? And what could Aria, the High Priestess of all the covens in the North, possibly want from the Wolves?

Michael pulled his gaze away from Lukas and focused it on the snowy ground.

Whatever Aria had come for was important enough to break the nearly year-long silence between the Wolves and Witches.

So, refusing was not an option, and his only choice was to return to the castle.

And the sooner he returned, the sooner he could get Lukas out of the Woodlands.

Michael looked up, but when his eyes landed upon Lukas, he noticed the guard was not looking at him but behind him. Not as if he was looking at something, but for something.

A difference as subtle as a whisper, yet as loud as a scream.

He did not know what that something was, and was not going to give the guard a chance to find it.

"If it is as urgent as you make it seem, then let us return."

Michael did not give Lukas a chance to respond before he started to walk off.

Almost immediately, a tree to his right began to rustle, and seconds later, the trees around it followed suit.

And just as they had done earlier, they guided him out.

A/N: Uh oh! Aria's back! I remember a lot of you were TEAM ARIA until you found out what she did, lol. What do you think she wants? And are we trusting Lukas?