Page 25 of Full Moon
Chapter 12
Feray
Three potty breaksand several excuses later, I've run out of ways to delay our departure. My heart races with anticipation and dread as I swap out the clothes I love for something more expendable at Easton's insistence.
"Remember that when you shift for defense, sometimes even I forget to protect my clothing," Diaval says gently.
"Your wolf knows what to do. Trust her instincts. If a fight happens, let her take control and do what needs to be done," Torben adds, his voice firm but encouraging. "Few wolves can say they've fought a Kodiak and a basilisk and lived." He winks at me and laughs.
"Training with my mates doesn't count. Neither of you went full force with me. There's no way a little wolf can survive against you," I respond, reaching up to cup his cheek.
"I don't know about Tor, but I didn't hold back. It would be a huge disservice to have held back during training. The only thing I didn't do was use my stone gaze or venom." Khal's voice is calm and unwavering.
Hearing him say he didn't hold back makes me gasp. "You mean..."
"You held your own against a basilisk. A wolf shouldn't be an issue for you, Precious." Khal's smile is genuine and full of pride. "I believe in you. I love you." He crushes his lips to mine suddenly, almost stealing my breath. My heart thunders in my chest, and I feel my wolf bristle under the surface.
Pulling away hesitantly, I smile up at him, then look at the others. "I will meet them on four paws, on my terms." The confident words taste odd leaving my lips, but they carry a weight of determination.
It's time to channel my inner Fi.
I ask myself one question.
What would Fiadh do?
That's easy.
She wouldn't leave a single fucker standing.
As we step furtherinto the ice cavern, the temperature drops steadily, biting at my nose. I shake my fur out, feeling its thickness grow—a primal response to the cold that feels almost foreign, yet oddly comforting. Wiggling my toe beans in the light dusting of snow blown into the cavern, I brace myself to lead my family deeper into wolf territory.
The soft snow underfoot soon gives way to rough, jagged ice, carved out by claws over centuries. The cavern walls glisten with crystalline beauty, casting fractured light that dances like ghosts. It reminds me of an icy tomb.
I pause at a fork in the path, my instincts sharp. The left tunnel is filled with the scent of magic, reminiscent of Rev's unique aura. I pause for several heartbeats, then change my mind and head right, ignoring the side tunnel altogether. The howling winds echo through the right path. The guys murmur behind me, discussing what we might face, the high likelihood of a battle I'll have to fight alone.
"Feray, establish dominance early," Diaval and Torben insist.
"Show no fear," Khal adds, his eyes briefly flashing with serpentine slits.
"Above all else, show no mercy," Easton growls, his voice filled with the weight of ancient memories. He has shared with me the brutal truths of wolves fighting over the eons—a tapestry of blood and survival woven through time.
The exit looms ahead, a portal against the endless expanse of white. A gnawing sensation in my gut tells me this is a trap.
"I need to exit alone," I say firmly, hoping my ancient mates will stop the others from following. They nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. I unleash my wolf drawing in a deep breath of arctic air. Dunnum, the smaller of the two wolven strongholds, waits for me beyond. I steel myself for the inevitable confrontation with the pack's betas, and possibly the alpha himself. Easton's voice echoes in my mind:Remember to howl, alerting the pack to your arrival. Howl your family name and greeting.
I glance back briefly, catching the worried eyes of my mates.
I love all of you. I'll be okay.
Taking a deep breath, I step out into the biting arctic wind, the snow crunching beneath my paws. This is my father's homeland, and its harsh beauty is both familiar and alien to me. Tilting my head back, I let out a howl, pouring my heart and soul into the song of my bloodline and my mates. The sound carries through the valley, a mournful, powerful cry. Soon, other voices join in—two in greeting, four in challenge. The latter voices send a chill down my spine as I feel them closing in. Blending into the snow, I move forward cautiously.
The four wolves approach, their fur a mix of light gray, black, and brown, contrasting with my pure white coat. As they get closer, they hesitate, taking in my larger, more imposing form. But one male lunges at me, his jaws snapping in what feels like slow motion. Leaping out of the way is almost effortless, a testament to the rigorous training from my mates. My wolf starts to fight for control, and I remember Torben's advice.
I let go.
The moment my wolf takes over, it's like I'm in the back seat, watching the world through her eyes. She is a fierce, cunning warrior, going straight for the kill. With a quick, decisive movement, she clamps down on the male's neck. One powerful jerk, and his neck snaps, blood spraying across the snow.
The sight is brutal, but my wolf is relentless.
