Page 4 of Moonlit Fate

“Love is a luxury,” Seren said plainly. “And who knows, maybe you could fall in love with Larkin over time? He seems amiable enough.”

“Amiable?” I scoffed, the word tasting sour on my tongue.

“Your mother, Mona, was stoic, lovely, and strong.” Seren squeezed my hand. “She would want you to be happy, certainly. But even she understood duty.”

The mention of my mother stirred a well of sorrow, a longing for guidance and tenderness that had been abruptly severed when I was seven years old. The void my mother’s death had left in me seemed to widen into a vast chasm as the gap between Seren’s practicality and my yearning for autonomy became more pronounced.

“Mother would’ve listened.” A rare tear mingled with the rain coming under the awning. “She would’ve understood the words I couldn’t speak.”

“I’m listening.” Seren pulled me into a comforting embrace. “I just think if anyone can make this union work, it’s you. Because you are every bit as formidable as she was.”

The storm raged around us, and I allowed myself a moment to simply be held. To bask in the comfort of friendship that required no pretense. Yet, Seren’s words, intended to comfort me, had the opposite effect. They intensified my determination. In the wild dance of lightning across the sky, I saw not just Larkin’s image but the silhouette of a future where my choices mattered.

“Thank you.” I finally stepped back. “But I will not let fate dictate my decisions. Not without a fight.”

Seren nodded. “I kinda figured.”

2

ARIA

Later in the afternoon, when the second storm finally subsided, I went for a run. The air still hummed with a restless energy, mirroring the chaos I couldn’t escape. With every step, the forest floor revealed a patchwork of puddles, reflecting fleeting glimpses of the sky above. My desperation for release made me feel like a caged animal, claws outstretched and ready to pounce.

My skin prickled with anticipation. It wasn’t the run itself that caused this electric sensation, but the escape it promised. A temporary reprieve from expectations, from decisions that were like shackles around my ankles.

“Going somewhere awfully fast, aren’t we?” Ilaric rumbled. He was one of our oldest pack members, and I’d loved him with all my heart for as long as I could remember. If anyone had been a grandfather to me, it was Ilaric. Where my father was strict and focused on status, Ilaric was the epitome of kindness.

I turned to see him leaning against a tree, his tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves, telling tales of war and pain, of freedom and the wild. Each inked line was a story, and Ilaric’s history was mapped out across his body. Some stories Iknew, some I didn’t. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, missed nothing—not the slight tremor in my hands, nor the stiffness in my posture.

“Ilaric,” I said, forcing a fake nonchalance. “I needed to clear my head. Thought it would help me to go for a run.”

“Depends. Are you running from or toward something?” he asked, his eyebrow cocked in a manner that suggested he already knew the answer.

“Does it matter?” I asked, sharper than I intended.

He scrutinized me for a moment longer, the corners of his mouth lifting in a wry smile. Then he nodded once, acknowledging the chaos he sensed in me, the freedom I sought. With that, he stepped aside, granting me passage without another word. He would be there when I was ready to talk.

Embracing the shift, I let go and allowed my primal instincts to reign, immersing myself in a world of raw simplicity. The change came effortlessly, my body adapting with a graceful fluidity as my bones and tissues reconfigured themselves, my skin rippling and giving way to a luxurious coat of silver fur. Within seconds, I was standing on four legs instead of two.

The world sharpened into crystal clarity, each sound, smell, and texture becoming distinctly pronounced. My wolf form was powerful, my muscles coiled and ready to spring. I ran faster, leaped higher, and for a moment, I left the complexities of being me behind.

With a surge of adrenaline, I took off. Wind whipped through my fur, and I pushed myself harder, faster. Trees blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors. The undergrowth clawed at my coat like a persistent fisherman’s hook as I darted forward. The only sounds to reach me were my paws pounding on the packed earth and my breaths coming in rapid huffs.

I tested my limits, running until my legs burned and my lungs begged for mercy, only slowing down when the farthestborder of our territory loomed ahead, a line drawn by nature yet respected by all who knew its significance.

Reaching the edge, I skidded to a halt, the thrill of mutiny fizzing through my veins like champagne bubbles. Here, on the precipice of the known and unknown, I was master of my own fate, if only for a fleeting moment. I threw my head back and howled, a sound of pure, untamed defiance that ricocheted through the forest and beyond.

The world realigned with a shiver of energy as I returned to my human form, the magic clinging to my skin like morning dew. As a favor to the pack, a local coven had cast a spell that meant our attire shifted with us. No humiliating scramble for modesty here. Yet, even clothed, something about me felt exposed. Raw.

With a protestor’s silent triumph, I crossed the invisible threshold that marked my pack’s territory. With each step deeper into the wilderness beyond Silver Claw borders, I welcomed a privacy that was as sweet as it was heavy. The trees became my silent guards, their lofty tops swaying in a gentle dance with the wind.

I hurried across the mosaic of leaves and pine needles. The forest hummed with life. Birds hidden in the canopy serenaded the world like an orchestra that played for no one but itself, and now for me, a solitary audience seeking solace.

This secluded spot was my personal refuge, a place where I could temporarily escape the demands of my role as the alpha’s daughter and simply immerse myself in solitude and the tranquility that surrounded me.

A sigh escaped me as I pondered the fading glory of our realm around me. These forests had once been borderless and teeming with life. Now, the once-pristine landscapes bore the scars of encroachment. Humans and their machines ate away at the lush green like a plague, leaving behind a trail of destruction.Our territories shrank, prey grew scarce, and the once-mighty packs found themselves fighting over scraps. The thriving pulse of the wilderness had faltered, drowned out by the relentless march of progress, leaving us all in its wake.

How ironic. We fought amongst ourselves for the remaining scraps while the true enemy continued its advance.

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