Under the wolf's moon

g pines and ancient oaks, rustling leaves like secrets too old to be spoken aloud. The air, thick with the scent of mos

athed her path in silver, shimmering on the dew-kissed grass. The glow didn't merely illuminate her; it embraced her, casting an o

sed from grinding roots and stitching wounds, bore testament

ng stream. There, under the twisted boughs of a willow, lay a young man cl

im. His face was pale, lips tinged blue

u to find me at the village

concern. "You shouldn't h

e others are too scared. Said the fores

rking, tugging aside his bandage with practiced ease. The wound was deep, clawed,

vial of thick amber salve and a roll of

ded, jaw

wound as his body arched in pain. His scream was muffled by

above the trees. It wasn't unnatural, not harsh like lantern light, but soft and warm, like candlefire behin

one had taught her. It simply was, as

tarily eclipsing pain.

her into the wound, dulling his agony. The healing wasn't complete, it n

eeze that wasn't there moments before. Distant, the lo

ed like a deer catchi

s t

she whi

etting bolder. That's th

nto the shadows between the t

o you

ust

before she caught the faintest glimmer of amber

nsed something deeper, something mournful, something sacred. The forest was theirs long before humans l

he said, looping Joren'

n the moonlight. As they walked, Aria felt the familiar pull in her ches

in the hush of sacred woods. And yet

zen fire. The cluster of cottages ahead flickered with lanternlight, hearth fires glowing behind shuttered w

had ratt

s who rushed to meet them. "He'll need rest and

eyes flitting nervou

, voice low, "did you see

watching, but they hav

paled.

atched her with eyes not of hunger, but recognition? That she sometimes dr

o her not just with be

of black and silver, alive with whispers only she could hear. She raised her hand and watched the mo

rose closer this time. Not t

mon

would lead her away from everything she thought she was.

was far