Page 85 of Full Moon
Chapter 38
Feray
Two nights later—
I stand in the chill of early morning, the air crisp and invigorating against my bare skin as the sun peeks over the horizon and casts pale golden light across the snow-covered landscape. The world glitters like it's been dusted with diamonds, each ice crystal catching the dawn and throwing it back in tiny prisms of color.
We've spent the past two days poring over my mother's belongings—her journals, her letters, the trinkets she collected over a lifetime—but we haven't discovered anything of vital importance to give us a hint as to what actually happened here. No hidden messages. No secret enemies revealed. Just the ordinary possessions of a woman who never knew she was running out of time.
I push aside the lingering mystery as I focus on the task at hand. Today isn't about the past—it's about the future, about proving myself to my people, about ensuring they survive the brutal winter that's already sinking its teeth into the mountains.
We've studied the map of the area for hours, debating strategies and terrain until finally settling on a pinch point to drive the herd—a tactic the pack has never tried before, oddly enough. They've always run the moose to exhaustion, chasing them for miles until the beasts simply give up. Such a waste of energy when the land itself can do the work for you.
Torben and Khal walk out of the alpha house with me, their boots crunching on the frozen snow as we gather the pack before they head to their ambush points. The range we've chosen has a crack in the ice shelf—a natural trap with sheer vertical walls and no exit. Once we herd the moose in, they can't get back out unless we let them pass.
And we won't.
"Are you ready?" I ask, glancing up at the highest balcony of the alpha house where Easton and Diaval stand silhouetted against the brightening sky. Even from here, I can see the tension in their postures, the way they watch the horizon for threats we can't yet see. They'll be our eyes from above, ready to rain fire and fury if anything goes wrong.
"All set, little wolf. Be safe," Torben replies, pulling me into a tight embrace that lifts me off my feet. His lips capture mine in a lingering kiss that leaves me breathless and flushed despite the cold, and I'm reluctant to let him go when he finally steps back.
Khal approaches next, his dark eyes intense as they search my face. "I'm proud of you, Precious," he says, his thumb gently brushing my bottom lip before he kisses me softly—a kiss full of promise and barely contained heat that makes my toes curl in my boots.
"Stay safe, you two," I call after them as they head toward their positions, my voice echoing in the crisp air. They'll be waiting at the kill point with crossbows and claws, ready to take down any moose that makes it through my driving line.
Around me, the pack gathers, the sound of their approach a soft murmur of crunching snow and hushed voices in the stillness. Nearly three hundred wolves have assembled for this hunt—more than have gathered in years, according to Astrid.
My aunt steps out of the alpha house and links her arm with mine, her smile warm despite the cold. "Let's walk to the edge of town before we shift and join them," she suggests.
Like me, Astrid isn't bothered by the temperature that would freeze a normal person solid. We stand outside in nothing but t-shirts and leggings, the cold a pleasant tingle against our skin rather than the assault it would be for anyone else. Winter wolf blood runs in both our veins, and the ice recognizes its own. "Are you excited? I know it's your first true pack run."
"Excited, scared—a boatload of emotions whipping through me like a blizzard," I admit, a short laugh escaping my lips as I try to tamp down the nerves threatening to overwhelm me. "What if I mess up? What if I lead them wrong? What if?—"
"You won't," Astrid interrupts gently, squeezing my arm. "You're your mother's daughter. This is in your blood."
We reach the edge of town, and the world beyond opens up into a vast expanse of white that stretches to the horizon in every direction. The snow reflects the growing light in shades of pink and gold, and my heart quickens with anticipation of the run ahead. "It's easy to get turned around up here," Astrid warns, her tone shifting to something more serious. "Don't stray fromthe pack, no matter what you think you see or hear. The tundra plays tricks on the mind, and more than one wolf has wandered off chasing phantoms and never returned."
I nod, filing away the warning. Even here, in my mother's territory, danger lurks in the endless white.
"Once we've killed the moose, some of the deltas will head back to get the horses and sleds to haul the kills home," she continues. "The rest of us will guard the carcasses until they return. We're not the only predators out here, and fresh blood attracts attention."
Standing with my aunt at the edge of town feels surreal, like I've stepped into a dream I never knew I was having. I sense my wolf bristling beneath the surface, eager to be unleashed after days of meetings and politics and holding herself back. She's more excited about this hunt than I am, if that's possible—practically vibrating with the need to run, to chase, to kill.
It's time,she speaks to me, and I couldn't agree more.
I shift slower than usual, savoring the way my wolf stretches and breaks through my body like something beautiful being born. This is a day I will remember forever—my first pack hunt, the moment I truly become one with my people. Every pop and pull as my muscles stretch and bulk feels like a warm, loving embrace rather than the agony it once was. Gone are the days when shifting was painful, when my wolf was trapped and diminished and crying out in silence. Thanks to Easton's feather burning in my chest, the transformation flows like water—natural and right and exactly as it should have always been.
Once fully shifted, I shake out my fur and look back at my gathering pack. Until now, I never truly realized how muchI've grown and changed since leaving Briarvale. I'm easily three times the size of a normal wolf, probably in the three hundred and fifty to four hundred-pound range now—a creature of legend standing among ordinary wolves.
I wonder what Fi will think when she sees me shifted again. I wonder if she'll even recognize me.
My fur blends perfectly with the snow as I look down at my massive paws, their size and strength a testament to everything I've become. The world around me transforms into a symphony of sensation—crisp air that burns cold in my lungs, shimmering ice crystals that dance on the wind, the faint scent of pine drifting from distant woods, the heartbeats of three hundred wolves pulsing in sync with my own. Each breath fills me with power and belonging. For the first time in my life, I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.
The biting cold air rushes past me as my aunt nudges my side, urging me to gather the stragglers of our pack. I throw my head back and howl, the sound echoing across the vast white expanse like a call to war, and watch as the remaining members fall into formation with military precision.
Once the bulk of our able-bodied pack is present—nearly three hundred wolves stretching out behind me like a living river of fur and muscle—we set off. Our paws crunch through the snow in a rhythm that sounds like thunder, each step sinking deep into the cold, powdery drifts as we head deeper into the tundra.
The surrounding landscape is a vast, endless sea of white, broken only by the occasional cluster of barren trees clawing at the pale sky like skeletal fingers. The moon still hangs low on the horizon despite the rising sun, casting long shadows across the snow that seem to move and shift of their own accord.
