Page 87 of Full Moon
This kill is easier than the first. More fluid. We move together like we've been hunting as a pair for years instead of months, anticipating each other's movements, covering each other's weaknesses. The warmth of the moose's blood sprays across my face, hot and metallic, painting the ravine floor in crimson roses.Get the carts,I call out to my pack through our bond, throwing my head back as the moose goes still beneath me.Tonight, we feast!The howl that tears from my throat is primal and triumphant—a declaration of victory, a call to my ancestors, a promise of sustenance to every wolf who followed me into this hunt.
All around the ravine, my pack joins in, their voices rising to join mine until the mountains themselves seem to shake with our song. Five moose lie fallen when the howling finally fades. Three taken down by Torben and me. Two felled by Khal'sdeadly crossbow, their bodies lying where they dropped with bolts through their hearts. The sight fills me with pride so fierce it brings tears to my eyes.
I stand amidst the carnage, my fur soaked with blood and my chest heaving with exertion, and I feel something I've never felt before—a connection so profound it takes my breath away. I understand now what Astrid meant when she said I needed a pack. What Torben meant when he said I needed to hunt. What my wolf has been crying out for since the day I was born.
I neededthis.
I needed to run with my people, to fight beside them, to provide for them with my own claws and teeth. I needed to feel the bond stretching between us like golden threads, three hundred hearts beating in sync with my own. The tundra around me pulses with energy, alive in a way it never was before. Every snowflake that falls, every gust of wind that howls through the pass, every heartbeat of every wolf in my pack—I can feel it all, and it feels like coming home.
I've hunted with them now.
I've bled with them.
I've killed for them.
And as I look out at my pack—at the wolves who trusted me to lead them, at the mates who fought beside me, at the aunt who guided me through my mother's territory—I realize that whatever enemies lurk in the shadows plotting my death, they've made a critical miscalculation. They tried to destroy me before I could become what I was born to be.
They failed.
And now I have an army.
Today was amazing,I tell my wolf as Torben's bear lumbers over to press his bloody muzzle against mine in congratulation.
Today was just the beginning,she replies, her voice fierce with satisfaction.Wait until they see what we do next.
I feel a profound connection to my parents' people now that I've hunted with them—a connection that goes deeper than blood or bond or magic. I understand why my mother loved them, why my father left everything behind to be with her, why they died trying to protect this pack from the darkness that hunted them.
This is worth dying for.
This is worth killing for.
And anyone who threatens my people will learn exactly what happens when you corner a winter wolf. I throw my head back one last time and howl—not in triumph this time, but in promise.I am Thyra Feray Jökull, Luna of the Crescent Valley Pack and heir to the northern throne.
I am the last of the winter wolves.
And I am just getting started.
