Chapter 7: The Trap and the Rescue
The air thrummed with unspoken suspicion, a growing static charge that promised a storm. Alpha Black, driven by the unsettling reports and Rose's increasingly withdrawn demeanor, decided to act. He suspected a rogue wolf, a trespasser, drawn to his pack lands. Or worse, a traitor within. He orchestrated a trap, a seemingly abandoned deer carcass left near the Silverwood border, subtly laced with a potent, non-lethal sedative designed to incapacitate any wolf that fed on it. It was a test, a snare laid to expose the truth.
Rose, her mind heavy with the weight of the prophecy and the encroaching external threat, felt a gnawing unease about her usual route. But the desperate need to leave a message for Max, to warn him of Talon's relentless pursuit and her father's heightened vigilance, overshadowed her caution. As she neared the drop-off point, a familiar scent of fresh kill reached her, too strong, too perfect. Her wolf, usually so keen, felt a strange pull, a primal urge for the easy meal. She shifted, approaching the carcass cautiously, but it was already too late. As she nudged the deer, a concealed net sprung from the undergrowth, wrapping around her in an instant. A faint, cloying scent, sweet and cloying, filled her nostrils. Panic flared, and then, a heavy drowsiness began to pull her down.
A thousand yards away, across the dividing line, Max felt it. Not just the physical sensation of Rose's distress, but a searing, visceral pain that tore through their bond. It was a primal scream echoing in his mind, a terror so profound it brought him to his knees. His human thoughts dissolved, replaced by a singular, overwhelming primal need to protect his mate. His shift was instantaneous, a blur of charcoal fur and sinew as his massive wolf form erupted from his human skin. All caution, all reason, vanished in a wave of incandescent primal fury. He roared, a sound that ripped through the forest, a declaration of war against anything that threatened his mate.
He ran, a dark arrow loosed from the bow of pure instinct, his paws devouring the distance. The scent of her fear, the cloying scent of the sedating trap, drew him with terrifying clarity. He burst through the trees into the glade, his eyes locking onto the struggling form of Rose, caught in the net, already succumbing to the drug. And then he saw them: Talon, his eyes alight with malicious triumph, and two other Silverwood warriors, closing in on Rose. The sight of Talon, his rival, the one meant to claim his mate, was the spark that ignited Max's full, unrestrained rage.
Max launched himself forward, a living projectile of teeth and claws. He slammed into Talon, sending the smaller wolf sprawling. His fangs snapped dangerously close to Talon's throat, a raw, guttural growl vibrating in his chest. But even in his rage, the ingrained command of his human self, Don't kill, don't kill Rose's kin, fought for dominance. He clamped his jaws down on Talon's shoulder, a warning bite that left no doubt of his power, but stopped short of a killing blow.
The other two Silverwood wolves, startled by the sudden, terrifying appearance of the Bloodmoon alpha-wolf, hesitated only for a moment before lunging. This was no ordinary rogue; this was a war wolf. Max met their charge with a calculated ferocity. He swiped at one, his claw raking across its flank, a sharp reminder of his strength. The other he head-butted, sending it reeling. He fought with controlled power, his every move a deliberate display of dominance without the intent to kill. He had to reach Rose.
Rose, though weakened, fought to clear her head. She saw Max, a dark whirlwind of power, defending her. "Max, no!" she rasped, trying to create a diversion. "The hunters! They're here!"
As if on cue, a piercing shriek echoed through the trees, a sound unlike any wolf. Then, the glint of metal, and the sickening thud of a net impacting a tree. Max saw it – not a wolf trap, but a hunter's trap, designed to capture a full-grown wolf. These weren't just Silverwood scouts; the wolf hunters were here, drawn by the conflict. This was far more dangerous.
Max, recognizing the new, greater threat, snarled at the Silverwood wolves. "Run! Hunters!" His voice, a low rumble even in wolf form, carried an undeniable urgency. The Silverwood wolves, including a disoriented Talon, froze, their instincts recognizing the true danger. Max tore at the net holding Rose, his powerful jaws shredding the thick ropes. Rose, still wobbly, stumbled free.
They heard the crackle of dry leaves, the stealthy approach of their true enemies. Max nudged Rose, urging her away from the clearing. Talon, seeing the approaching human figures armed with gleaming weapons, let out a terrified whine and fled with his companions. The clash with pack members had turned into a desperate, shared escape from a common foe.
They ran, deeper into the forest, leaving the hunters' strange, acrid scent behind. Finally, they collapsed in a hidden alcove, panting, the adrenaline slowly receding. Rose's head still spun, but the terror was giving way to a profound sense of relief, and something more. Their secret was partially exposed. Talon and the other Silverwood wolves had seen Max, a Bloodmoon Alpha-wolf, protecting Rose. They had seen his ferocity, his defiance of the ancient hatred. The wrath of each pack would now simmer with a volatile, dangerous edge.
In the aftermath, they clung to each other, their vulnerability raw and exposed. "You came," Rose whispered, her voice thick with emotion, her fingers tracing the scars on his face. "You risked everything."
"I would burn the world for you, Rose," Max replied, his voice hoarse, his gaze intense. "We almost lost it all." Their bond, forged in defiance and now tempered in the fires of shared danger, felt unbreakable. The experience had peeled back another layer of their souls, deepening their vulnerability and trust.
As they caught their breath, Rose noticed something unusual. Near where Max had broken through the net, a small, intricate carving on the bark of an ancient oak had been exposed, hidden by years of moss. It was a symbol she'd seen only once before, in her grandmother's lore book: a stylized moon, split down the middle, with a single, entwined wolf howling beneath it. It was a direct clue, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. "Max," she breathed, pointing to the carving. "The prophecy. This is it. This is a map."