Page 53 of Full Moon
"She looks like a dire wolf," I whisper to Diaval.
"Size-wise, yes. Pound for pound, the dire wolves are heavier but cannot live outside of their natural habitat. Whereas a winter wolf, though adapted for this weather, can live anywhere."
A glimmer of pride flickers in my chest despite the somber occasion.
Alec and Dorian arrive with Feray's grandmother, wrapped up carefully, and lay her gently on the cart. Two light gray wolves walk ahead of Feray, leading her toward the cavern. The bond is deadly silent. Usually, I would feel a pulse of emotion from Feray, but now there's nothing.
"Do you feel her?" I ask Torben.
He shakes his head. "Her wolf is in control. It's learning the path to her family's resting place. Unfortunately, it's not instinctual for her." His voice catches. "I wish we knew her pack did this. I would have insisted on carrying her parents' bones with us." The way he says it makes something twist painfully in my gut.
"She needs us focused," Easton says, dropping back to talk to us. "With everything that has happened lately, we need to be on high alert for a potential attack. Whoever hunted her parents and killed them is still out there." The steel in Easton's voice catches me off guard. He's usually the laid-back, quiet one.
The great maw of the cavern yawns open before us, an ominous and gaping entrance. Ice hangs from the top like the jagged teeth of a mighty dragon, each icicle glistening with a cold, blue light. The narrow entry path is well worn from years of use. Someone had gone ahead and lit candles to guide us deep within. Their flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the ice tombs that line the walls, each one marking the resting place of extended family and pack members.
The air is heavy with the weight of history. Alec explains that the pack reserves the front of the cavern for their dead. The royal vault lies deep in the depths, and it will take several minutes to reach it. The crunch of rocks and ice under the wood of the sled is the only sound we hear after Alec goes quiet.
The silence is oppressive.
Before long, the cavern takes a turn and heads downward. Alec explains that once upon a time, an ice dragon used to guard the burial chamber. Its presence still lingers in the bones that remain as a silent sentinel. Legend has it the dragon cursed itself to rise again when the true ruler summons it. Feray tilts her head, listening intently, her eyes reflecting the candlelight with curiosity and apprehension.
"Hopefully, she doesn't get any ideas," Diaval mentions.
"Why?"
"They are nearly impossible to defeat once they rise. The more lives they take, the more they regain their flesh. Once it has the taste of life, it will go on a rampage beyond what the summoner intended. Most times, they kill the summoner and drain them so they can live again." Diaval shivers.
"Our fearless leader is leaving out an important factor. Phoenix fire can destroy them," Easton chimes in.
Feray growls, looking back over her shoulder at us, her eyes flashing with irritation. If what they say is true about the dragon, I hope our mate doesn't get any ideas. The last thing we need is to be hunted by both an unseen enemy and a giant, menacing dragon skeleton.
Alec leads us to the area carved out for her grandmother's final resting place. I move quickly, unbuckling Feray from the harness. As she shifts back to her human form, I notice the weariness in her eyes. She looks around, taking in the somber surroundings with a distant gaze.
"You picked a good place for her," she says to Alec, her voice barely above a whisper.
Torben and Diaval gently lift her grandmother off the wagon, sliding her into place with the care of those who understand the weight of their actions. Feray watches with a strange detachment, her eyes unfocused, as if she's here but not here at the same time. I can feel the turmoil within her—a storm of emotions barely kept at bay.
Before I can reach out to her, she approaches the crypt. Shifting back to her wolf, I watch her puff herself up as she steps closer. With a deep, shuddering breath, she releases a howl infused with her ice breath. The sound echoes around us, and in moments, her grandmother is sealed in a solid block of ice—a crystalline tomb for her final rest. The display is both beautiful and haunting, a testament to Feray's power and her grief.
She stands there for a long moment, staring at the ice, at the grandmother she only just met, at the connection that wassevered before it could fully form. I think about all the years Feray was robbed of—the family she never knew, the heritage stolen from her, the grandmother who waited decades to see her son's heir. And now that grandmother is gone, leaving behind only memories shared in a handful of precious moments.
Shifting back to her human form, Feray turns away, her steps purposeful as she explores the family crypt. My gut twists with unease, sensing that she's searching for something specific. Her movements are deliberate, yet there's an underlying desperation. I want to comfort her, to ask what she's looking for.
But the look in her eyes tells me this is something she needs to do alone.
So I stand watch.
Because that's what a mate does.
