Page 5 of Moonlit Fate

It left a bitter taste in my mouth, but the forest offered no solution, only the eternal patience of nature observing the follies of those who claimed dominion over her.

The tangle of emotions that had been strangling me loosened with every step I took deeper into the dense woods. The spirits had grown quiet lately. It used to be that their whispers were akin to a second heartbeat beating within the pack, a rhythm of life that promised prosperity. But now? The silence was deafening. We clung to any symbol of their favor, such as the birth of a child, no longer a common joy but a precious rarity that was heralded as a divine blessing among our dwindling numbers.

“Come on,” I called out to the spirits, half in challenge, half in plea. “What do you want from us?”

As if in response, a subtle breeze weaved through the trees and caressed my skin, almost like an acknowledgment from the forest itself. This ancient, enigmatic entity pulsed with secrets that predated any group or belief. Around me, Lycanterra stood watchful and wise, its roots entrenched in the core of our lands as if it cradled the very soul of the world.

For centuries, we’d lived isolated from humanity, hidden deep in vast, unspoiled lands surrounded by towering mountains to the north and west and the Lycan Sea to the south. Once an uncharted realm on most maps, our lands had become vulnerable as the spirits weakened and their gifts lessened, thinning out the forest.

Despite the mystery surrounding the dwindling spirits, there were times, like now, when their presence could be felt. It was a hushed anticipation in the air, as if they were holding their breath and waiting to see how we would handle this reality.

“Are you watching me now?”

They didn’t respond, not that I’d expected them to.

“Can you feel this tornado inside me?”

Not long ago, I’d have scoffed at the idea of confiding in anything that couldn’t reply. But thanks to my upcoming forced mating, I was desperate. Desperation had a way of peeling back skepticism to reveal the raw hope beneath.

“Help me understand,” I said to the forest, to the spirits, to any force that might be listening. “Show me how to protect what’s ours.”

The wind picked up, rustling through the foliage. Shadows danced between the trunks, playing tricks on my eyes, inviting me to see signs where there may be none. Yet, I was connected to something greater than myself, greater than the pack.

I let the wild scent of the air fill my lungs, let the earth beneath my feet ground me. The spirits might have withheld their blessings, but Lycanterra remained. As long as the forest stood, as long as its wisdom flowed through the land, there was still hope. And with hope came the ability to face whatever lay ahead.

The forest seemed to sigh around me, a gentle murmur of leaves and life that ricocheted through my soul. With each step farther away from the border of Silver Claw territory, an exhilarating sense of freedom filled me, a wildness that mirrored the unbridled furor inside me. I was just another creature among many, my burdens insignificant in the vast canvas of nature’s artistry.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans for me.

A sharp pain lanced through my ankle, and in a split second, I was airborne, gravity betraying me as I was violently wrenched upwards. I tried to scream, but the sudden inversion stole my voice. My long, silver hair cascaded down towards where my feet had just been, flowing like a shimmering waterfall.

“Great. Just perfect,” I said, the irony of my predicament not lost on me. Arms flailing, I struggled for something to grab onto, something to anchor me and stop the spinning world. But the trap held firm, a snare meant for prey far less cunning than a shifter.

By failing to stay alert to my surroundings, I had broken the first rule of the forest. I’d put myself in harm’s way.

“Come on, for fuck’s sake,” I cursed as I twisted in mid-air. I stretched my arm toward the rope that held my foot prisoner, my core muscles straining with effort. I grazed the coarse fibers with the tips of my fingers, so close but agonizingly out of reach.

There I hung like a deer carcass, suspended and helpless, the future alpha ensnared by a simple human contraption. I would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire. If the pack could see me now, caught in such an undignified state, would they question my claim to leadership? Would they whisper doubts about my abilities?

No, I wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t let a hunter’s trap or the expectations of the pack defeat me. Even if I shifted, the rope would simply tighten around my wolf’s leg.

With a roar, I contorted my body. This was not how the story of Aria Winters would end. This was merely a setback, another test of my willpower, and I refused to fail.

As I swayed from the rope, the forest blurred into a whirlwind of vibrant greens and earthy browns, spinning around me like a dizzying carousel. Each twist and turn intensified the disorienting sensation that made my stomach churn and my lips twist in discomfort. The trap, a cruel example of humaningenuity, held me captive, its grip unyielding as gravity turned traitor against my suspended form. A bitter irony lingered on my tongue, mocking me and reminding me that even an alpha-to-be could succumb to primal panics.

“Caught like a rabbit in a snare,” I sneered at myself, my voice jagged and out of place in the serenity that surrounded me.

A rustling in the foliage grabbed my attention. I wasn’t within the safety of Silver Claw territory. I had no way of knowing if it was friend or foe. The rush of blood to my head and the constricting panic that seized me was overwhelming my senses. I glanced around frantically, searching for any sign of what approached while I conjured images of what might emerge from the gloom-draped woods.

My breath came in frosted clouds, the air around me chilling with the sudden onset of terror. Humans. In my mind’s eye, I could practically see their silhouettes lurking just beyond the thicket, almost hear the crunch of their boots in the undergrowth. They had always been a distant threat, their presence nothing more than a whisper in our domain. But now, they were bold and unafraid, setting traps where once they dared not tread, the changing fortunes of the climate affecting the outcome of their hunts as much as ours and pushing them dangerously deeper into the forest and our territory.

“Well, fuck.” My heart hammered against my chest. My mind raced, each thought darker than the last. Were they nearby, watching me struggle, waiting for the moment to claim their catch? I imagined their cold eyes, their rough hands.

I couldn’t give in to this insane fear. I was stronger than this.

“Of all the times to lack grace,” I muttered, my usual humor twisted into a self-deprecating grimace. Fate was mocking me, reducing me to nothing more than ensnared prey. The irony of tonight’s ceremony, where my father and his group of trustedelders would announce the intended mating of Larkin and me to the pack, only reinforced the feeling of being trapped.

I was becoming increasingly aware that unless a miracle happened, I would remain stuck here, suspended in mid-air. I’d miss the ceremony, disappoint my father, and have to face the disapproval of his council.

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