The scent of wet pine and distant thunder clung to the mountain valley as if the forest itself were afraid to breathe. I stood at the tree line, my bare feet half‑sunk in mud, and watched the lights of Blackwater Pack flicker below like dying stars. Every instinct screamed at me to run run until the trees thinned and the memories blurred but the pull of home is a cruel chain. I wrapped my arms around a body that had grown too thin, too hollow, and whispered to the wind, "You can't hurt me anymore." The wind, faithless as always, only sighed.
My name is Aurora Thorn though the pack still calls me "Cracked Luna," a cruel joke carved into gossip after the night the Alpha broke my bond and my bones in one savage heartbeat. A Luna who couldn't shift, couldn't protect her mate, couldn't even bear an heir what use was she? So they caged me in a cellar laden with mountain ash, a wolf‑less woman among beasts, until pity or boredom set me free.
Tonight, after two years of exile wandering the human cities, I had come back for one thing: the ledger. It held proof that Alpha Garrick's trading caravans carried more than furs and ore; they carried chains, collars, and frightened faces bound for black‑market auctions. With the ledger I could bargain for sanctuary with the Council, maybe even dismantle the monster who called himself my husband. Without it… I was just prey returning to the slaughter.
But fear is easier to wear than hope, and I wrapped it tight as a cloak while night slid across the sky.
1
A twig snapped behind me.
I spun, heart leaping. "Show yourself." The words rasped from a throat unused to authority.
A shadow detached from the undergrowth. Moonlight brushed over lean limbs and briar‑snagged hair. Kellan. Twelve when I'd last seen him, now taller than me and twice as wary. He lowered a handmade bow but kept an arrow notched.
"Should've known a ghost would steal back at the witching hour," he whispered, voice breaking between boy and man. "Does Alpha Garrick know you're here, Luna?"
Luna. The word stung. "Don't call me that."
"What should I call you, then? Aurora? Aurora died when you left." His arrow trembled. "We all did, a little."
Guilt coiled in my gut, but I forced my spine straight. "I need something. After tonight, you'll never see me again."
He barked a humorless laugh. "That's what you said the first time."
"I mean it." I took a cautious step forward. "Help me, Kellan, and I swear the pack will be safe."
"The pack isn't safe." His voice cracked. "Beta Lennox patrols with silver‑tipped whips. He drags pups who stumble. And the mines—" He swallowed. "We dig past daylight now. For 'tribute.' No one knows to whom."
I did. The black‑market houses in Ashveil demanded fresh tribute monthly. My fingers tightened. "Give me an hour in Garrick's war‑room. The ledger's there."
Kellan's gaze flicked toward the sleeping village. "They'll scent you."
"Then mask me." I held out the waxed pouch of crushed wolfsbane I'd gathered on the hike. "Spread this on my trail. And… keep watch. Please."
He hesitated, eyes conflicted. Finally he lowered the bow entirely. "One hour. If the bells ring, I run and I never saw you."
Relief threatened to buckle my knees. "Thank you."
But gratitude was a luxury; survival, the mandate. I slipped past him down the slope, each footfall measured. Behind me, Kellan's scent juniper and worry ghosted through the air before vanishing under wolfsbane's acrid veil.
2
Blackwater's palisade rose from mist like petrified ribs, torches guttering along its length. I followed the outer wall until I found the breach I'd memorized as a pup: a half‑rotted log behind the tannery. Garrick never bothered to repair it he believed no one dared to leave, and no one foolish enough to return. Tonight, I proved him wrong on both counts.
Inside, the settlement lay in uneasy slumber. Smoke curled from chimneys. Somewhere a dog barked, silenced by a low snarl. I kept to shadows, a wraith passing familiar doorways: the old apothecary where Elder Maud once brewed calendula salves for my bruises; the bakery whose honey loaves I could no longer taste without ashes. Every memory cut, but memory could not kill only hesitation did that. I hardened my heart.
The Alpha's hall crouched at the village center, three stories of black stone and arrogance. Lanterns burned in the upper window his private quarters but the war‑room on the ground floor should be empty. I scaled the back terrace, fingertips numb. A window latch yielded to a twist of wire. Inside, the corridor smelled of leather, stale wine, and Garrick's bitter musk. My stomach lurched, but I kept moving.
The war‑room door stood ajar. Maps littered the oak table, pins marking mine shafts and trade routes. I spotted the ledger immediately a thick, iron‑clasped book beside Garrick's signet stamp.
Too easy.
I crossed the threshold and froze. Breath steamed in front of me. Behind the door, Beta Lennox lounged in a chair, booted feet on a crate, nursing a silver flask.
His eyes, wolf‑gold even in human form, slid to me. "Thought I smelled regret mixed with moonshine." He rose, uncapping the flask. "Cracked Luna. Couldn't stay away?"
Instinct screamed to run, but I forced calm. "Move," I said, voice low. "This doesn't concern you."
"Everything that concerns the Alpha concerns me." He toyed with a length of silver chain at his belt. "He'll be thrilled. Said you'd crawl back one day."
"Then step aside and let him greet me." I braced, gauging distance to the ledger.
Lennox smirked. "Oh, I'll fetch him. But first" He lunged.
I dodged, but silver chain licked my forearm. Agony sizzled; the metal blistered skin with purification's burn. I bit back a scream, rolled beneath the table. Lennox flipped it, maps and pins scattering like metallic confetti. I scrambled for the ledger; fingers brushed leather but he caught my ankle, yanking me hard.
Pain exploded in my hip. Lennox raised the chain again. "Alpha said break your spirit if it stirred."
"My spirit never broke," I hissed, kicking his knee. He grunted.
I clawed upright, swinging the ledger like a cudgel. Wood splintered; he staggered. I darted toward the corridor, clutching the book, blood dripping from my arm.
Bells pealed outside alarm.
Kellan.
I sprinted past the kitchens where servants shrieked, past the armory where warriors snatched blades. Wolves shifted in flashes of fur and bone. Adrenaline lit my veins with wildfire.
I burst into the courtyard. Garrick himself strode from the main doors, a dark colossus, amber eyes blazing. Scars lined his jaw, trophies of battles he inflicted, not fought. He saw the ledger in my grip and snarled, "Return it, Aurora, and I will be merciful."
Mercy? The word scraped my ears like mockery.
He lifted his palm a gesture Beta Lennox knew. Chain snapped around my middle from behind. I gasped as silver bit flesh, legs collapsing.
Garrick approached, boots crunching gravel. "You forget your place."
I forced my gaze up. "I chose a new one: survivor."
"Luna no more," he spat.
"Maybe." Strength gathered in my chest, a fragile ember refusing to die. "But you're no Alpha only a butcher with a title."
His palm cracked across my cheek; copper flooded my mouth. The ledger skidded from grasp. He stooped to grab it when a whistle shrilled and a shaft of moonlit wood buried deep in his shoulder.
Kellan's arrow.
Chaos erupted. Pack warriors converged. Kellan yelled, "Run, Aurora!"
Silver sliced deeper, but I shoved air into aching lungs and surged to my feet. Garrick roared, tearing the arrow free, but blood streamed down his arm. I snatched the ledger again, vaulted a trough, and bolted toward the breach.
A young warrior blocked the alley. I recognized her Elara, once my handmaiden whose hands had trembled while dressing my bruises. She shifted, gray fur rippling. For a heartbeat our eyes met hers soft with apology. She stepped aside.
I whispered thanks and fled into the timberline.
3
The forest devoured me. Behind, horns blared, canines bayed. Silver chain scraped bark where Lennox pursued. But the moon a swollen coin behind clouds lent me courage. With every stride the ground seemed to pulse, as if the land remembered me, as if it, too, had awaited rebellion.
Yet strength is fickle. Blood loss blurred vision. My legs faltered near a ravine where the river gnawed rock fifty feet below. The rope bridge I'd crossed earlier swayed, strands fraying. Beyond, safety beckoned.
I staggered onto the planks. Halfway across, Lennox lunged from shadows, chain whistling. It wrapped my waist, ripping me backward against the railing. "Enough running," he snarled, hauling me toward him.
Planks groaned. One snapped. We teetered.
Silver scorched like ice‑fire, draining what remained of my stamina. I clutched the ledger to my chest.
Weak. Always weak.
No. A faint, steady voice rose inside—the one I'd muted since the cellar. Strength isn't the absence of pain; it's defying it. I forced my head up.
Lennox sneered. "Drop the book."
"Let me show you what I've learned in exile," I whispered.
I loosened my grip not on the ledger, but on the chain coiling me. Weight shifted. Lennox instinctively pulled harder; balance surrendered. I vaulted sideways, chain slackening just enough to slide free as Lennox pitched over the railing, a strangled cry torn away by wind. His fall snapped the bridge supports ropes whipping.
The span lurched, tilting. I leapt for the far bank. Fingers caught rocky ledge; nails split. Ledger dangled from my teeth as I scrabbled up sodden earth. The bridge ripped free behind me, crashing into the churning river.
Silence, punctuated by distant howls.
I lay there, mud cool beneath burned skin, chest heaving. I had escaped broken but breathing. And the ledger, wet but intact, pulsed against my palm like a living heart.
I wasn't Luna, wasn't wolf. Not yet. But tonight I'd crossed a threshold. Weakness had not defined me; it had tempered me. Garrick might still rule Blackwater, but he could no longer claim my terror.
I rolled onto my back, letting moonlight bathe open wounds. Above, clouds parted, revealing the lunar disc luminous, whole. A promise.
"My name is Aurora Thorn," I whispered to the sky, voice gaining steadiness, "and I am not done."
Somewhere on the horizon, dawn stirred faint, fragile, but inevitable.
And so was I.
4
I reached the abandoned hunter's cabin by first light. Kellan waited, eyes wide at my lacerated arms, but he said nothing as I collapsed onto the dirt floor. Wordlessly he stitched wounds, cleaned burns with honeyed liquor, tearing strips from his own shirt for bandages.
When he finished, dawn filled the doorway with amber. I pressed the ledger into his hands. "Take it to Elder Maud. She'll know the Council courier routes."
Kellan's throat bobbed. "And you?"
"North. I'll draw Garrick's hounds. Once the Council reads this, they'll come for him."
He studied me no longer the boy who idolized a Luna, but a young man choosing a side. "You'll need allies."
"I'll find them." I managed a wry smile. "Turns out exile is good for making friends in low places."
He crouched, pressing a wolf‑tooth pendant into my palm. "For luck."
I closed my fingers around it, warmth stealing into weary limbs. "Thank you, little brother."
He blinked. "You knew?"
"I always did."
A tremor shook his shoulders, but he pulled me into a fierce hug. When he released me, purpose burned in his eyes brighter than fear. "Go. The world is wider than these pines."
I stepped into morning. Air tasted of ash and pine sap and the intoxicating flavor of possibility. Although pain throbbed in every joint, something deeper hummed ether first stirrings of the shift I had never mastered. Perhaps the wolf inside me had been waiting for this reclamation.
I set off along the ridge trail, horizon beckoning. Behind me, Blackwater's chapter was closing, its embers cooling. Ahead, another chapter untitled, unwritten awaited my pen.
My stride lengthened. With each step, strength returned fragile, yes, but mine. And for the first time in years, I felt power not as something granted by a title or mate, but as birthright reclaimed.
I did not look back.
Because prey no longer fled these woods.
A hunter did.