Page 67 of Moonlit Fate

“Positive.” But the word was a shield against the uncertainty. With one last reassuring nod, I turned to Atticus. “I’m going to need your help walking.”

“Of course.” He wrapped his arm gently around my waist.

We made our way out into the forest. I leaned heavily on Atticus, each step sending a dull ache up my leg that I stubbornly ignored. But I couldn’t ignore the sweat dripping down my brow and how the world spun slightly each time I blinked.

“Atticus,” I said, a warning in my tone.

He glanced down, and panic flashed through his deep-set eyes. “Your wound is bleeding through,” he said fearfully.

“Is it bad?” I tried to sound nonchalant, but my voice pitched.

“Let me carry you,” he said, his arms already moving to lift me.

“No, we can make it if we—” My words died on my lips as a wave of dizziness crashed over me, my vision blurring.

“Trust me.” He scooped me up against his chest as though I weighed nothing.

“Okay.” I surrendered to his care as he moved us toward my pack lands.

Just when I thought my consciousness would slip away, a structure emerged from the thicket as if conjured from the very magic that thrummed through the land.

“Look.” I pointed to the mysterious shack that stood where nothing had stood before.

“How did that get here?” Atticus looked stunned, but he didn’t slow his pace.

“Doesn’t matter.” Curiosity punched through the fog in my brain. “Maybe it’s fate.”

“Fortune smiling on us.” He stepped up to the weathered door with me still cradled in his arms.

The heavy door creaked on its hinges, and a thick silence descended on us as we stepped inside. Its sudden appearance in a new location was disconcerting at best, downright eerie at worst. But the forest had its own logic, one that didn’t always align with the laws of man or beast.

I tried to bite down on it, but a groan escaped my lips as my foot bumped into the doorpost, sending a searing pain singing through my limb from the wound, a memento from the battle and the curse that remained in my flesh. My skin glistened with a layer of sweat as my nerves pulsed in time with my heartbeat.

Atticus hesitated in the doorway, his expression revealing an inner conflict. “Maybe we should press on to the manor. There are healers there, your wound...”

Everything screamed for me to return to the safety and familiarity of my pack, but my instincts compelled me to remain here. The hut’s appearance must be significant. It had eluded us before when we’d searched for it, when the cunning forest had hidden it.

“I think we should check it out,” I said. “We’re here now, and who knows if we’ll find it again? Let’s not forget that the last time it appeared, it gave us what we were looking for. There’s every chance we’ll uncover something to aid us here.”

I gritted my teeth as Atticus lowered to my feet. I leaned heavily against him, the raw ache from my wound flaring up with each heartbeat. The rational part of my brain knew he was right. We couldn’t afford to ignore potential help. My pack needed me, yet here I was, wading through the unknown. But something told me this detour was no accident.

“Okay, let’s do this.” The words came out more resigned than I intended. “But if this is some kind of trap...”

“Then we’ll face it,” Atticus said smoothly, his hand finding mine in the dim light, his touch sending a jolt of warmth up my arm.

I nodded, bracing myself against the pain and doubt. “If there is even the slightest chance that we can uncover something, anything that could tip the scales in our favor, then we owe it to the pack to explore every possibility. We need to be thorough but swift.”

“Agreed,” he said. We stood united, two souls entwined through destiny and necessity.

I moved deeper into the shack with Atticus at my side. The hope that bubbled up in me quelled the fear a bit. Perhaps this was the forest magic at work, guiding us to salvation when all seemed lost. If so, I would welcome it fully, trusting that the same mystical forces that had brought Atticus into my life were now leading us toward a solution that could save my pack.

Curiosity pricked at me like a thousand tiny needles. This was no mere coincidence. I was completely sure this was fate’s design.

“Look at this,” Atticus said.

I turned to the counter where an array of flasks and jars sat, their contents shimmering. Among them lay a salve, its unassuming container catching my attention.

I picked it up and read the elegant script on the label.

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