Page 59 of Full Moon
Chapter 28
Feray
My mates aren't builtfor this.
Over the course of the long, frigid night, Torben and I tighten ourselves around the others. Temperatures easily drop into the negatives. By the time morning comes, everyone is laying against Torben with me draped over their legs for added warmth. Diaval directs the guys to connect two of the sleeping bags to make one huge one. They plan to use the third to cover them when I go hunting.
As they shuffle to make the huge bag, guilt gnaws at me. How can I even think about staying up here when three of my mates are struggling?
"I know that look. Stop beating yourself up. We knew what we were walking into coming up here." Khal's words mirror what Torben is likely feeling as well.
I turn my head away, puff myself up, then lay my fur back down. I look at Diaval, and we share a silent conversation. He nods and then looks at Khal. "She's worried about keeping everyone warm and safe. The next leg is the dangerous part—the Crescent Valleypack is the largest pack currently living." Diaval looks back at me, and I relay more of my thoughts. "She's going to hunt for more food. She wants us to finish what's in the pack to help keep our temperatures up. Feray is going to bring food back for her and Torben. He's staying behind to keep us warm."
"I hate feeling useless," Easton chimes in.
I walk over and nuzzle my nose under his hand, urging him to look at me. I show him how much his presence helps me daily and how much I love him. "Okay, you win, my flame. I'll heat the food for the others while you hunt. Call if you need Diaval or me." He kisses my muzzle, and the others hug and kiss me before I walk out of the cavern, retracing our steps. The cold wind howls as I leave the warmth of my family behind. But their love and trust in me fuels my determination. I can't afford to fail them now.
The cavern echoes with memories of the worm that once lurked here. The knowledge that this was its lair urges me to put as much distance as possible between us. The snow crunches under my paws, each step taking me further north. The wind howls in my face, a relentless barrier. I push on, nose to the wind, hoping to catch the scent of prey. Time drags. Each moment stretched thin by hunger and worry.
Finally, a scent drifts on the wind. Sheep.
Relief floods through me. One will be enough to feed Torben, and perhaps if I'm strategic, I can take two—one for now and one to drag back after I've eaten my fill. I move forward, stalking with practiced precision. A young sheep and its mother lag behind the others, smaller than the rest.
Perfect targets.
As the wind shifts, I shift with it, staying downwind. The two sheep stumble and then lie down, their exhaustion apparent. My wolf whispers to me:It's a mercy killing.I wrestle with the moral dilemma, my human side hesitating. But my stomach growls, silencing the debate. Hesitation is a luxury I can't afford. I creep closer, muscles coiled and ready. When I'm within leaping distance, I strike.
I land between them, claws sinking into flesh, aiming for their necks. My jaws clamp down on the adult's neck, and I thrash, snapping it swiftly. Turning, I pounce on the younger sheep, ripping its throat out. Blood sprays, painting the snow and my fur a vivid vermillion.
Once I'm sure they're both dead, I use my claws to tear open their stomachs, spilling their guts onto the snow to lighten my load. I gorge myself on the heart and liver, the taste rich and metallic. Human me would cringe at this feast, but my wolf's instincts guide me, selecting the best parts to fuel us for the journey ahead. Once I've had my fill, I turn my attention to the smaller one. With practiced precision, I sever its head and the legs below the knee joints.
I pick the ewe up in my jaws, its weight surprisingly light, and begin the journey back. As I walk, I realize just how much I've changed. My wolf is much larger than it was the last time Fi and the guys saw me. Carrying an eighty-pound sheep is no longer a challenge. Following my tracks, I notice my paw prints are about the same size as my human hands.
The changes are astonishing.
I've been so focused on everything else that I didn't notice my own transformation. The wolves of my father's pack were smaller than me, and now I'm not that much shorter thanTorben's bear. He's still huge compared to me, but I'm not as small as I used to be. Maybe the Crescent Valley won't be so bad after all.
I arrive back at the cavern and head to where my mates are huddled together.
"Feray! Are you hurt?" Khal's voice is filled with concern, his eyes scanning me for injuries.
Tell him I'm fine. The blood isn't mine.I glance at Easton.
He nods and relays the message as I drop the ewe before Torben, nudging it closer with my nose.
I ate already. This is just for Torben.Goddess, I hate that I can't speak to them myself. This sucks.
Easton repeats my message, and Torben eats. Diaval is already back in his winter gear. "It shouldn't be much further to the other side," he says. "Dragons like to place their nests in the middle of their caves if there's two entrances."
Khal and Easton bundle up again, their movements brisk as they pack up our camping supplies. Easton stands beside me. "Just like last time, be prepared to fight the other wolves when you announce yourself." He looks down, a smile breaking through his stern demeanor. "You've grown again."
My head is level with his chest now. He sinks his gloved hands into my thick pelt. "If we are correct with our calculations, you are almost at your adult size for a winter wolf."
"She may stop where she is since we know neither of her parents were pure winter wolf," Diaval adds, resting his hand on my back. "Torben is almost ready to go. Are you shifting back?"
I shake my head.It makes no sense. I'll have to shift again when I need to howl. Staying shifted conserves energy for me.Diaval nods and relays the message to Khal. Torben rumbles when he's ready, and I take the lead.
The ice cavern twists and turns, its path lined with jagged icicles that glisten ominously. As we get closer to the mouth, more of these crystalline spikes hang down, reflecting the light. The harsh arctic wind whips past the cave mouth, producing eerie tones as it moves between the icicles—a chilling melody that sends shivers down my spine. The light of day illuminates the last thirty feet of the cavern. I take a deep breath and step out into the snow.
