Broken Moon: Part 1 (4 page)

"Not at all, I like to
listen," Cyan said. "And it's nice to have someone to welcome me to
the community. I can't recommend leaving all this behind to go and
visit the forest packs and the city, but I've got plenty of stories
to share about them if you want."

April smiled. "I'd like
that. It'll be fun to have some new stories to tell around the fire
for once."

Cyan returned the
smile, swinging his legs over the log with a groan to warm the back
of his damp shirt against the flames. "Don't let me keep you all
morning, I'm feeling nice and welcome now. It was good meeting you,
April."

"You too, Cyan," she
said, rising from her seat and tucking her jacket in close as a
gust of wind blew through the camp. "I'm going to hold you to that
storytelling session later."

* * * * *

Cyan wasn't sure what
to make of the Highland Pack after his first morning spent with
them. If it hadn't been for his conversation with April he might
have been thinking about moving on already.

It was clear that their
closed community wasn't used to outsiders. The other werewolves
spoke in hushed tones whenever he was near, keeping to themselves
and sending suspicious glances his way when they thought he wasn't
looking.

He could handle
suspicion, but something about the Highland Pack unsettled him. It
felt as though most of them had been cut off from the outside world
for so long that they barely even recognised him as a person. It
wasn't unusual for a werewolf packs to be insular, but this went
above and beyond the usual territorial instincts.

He was eager to speak
with Ingrid again. The leadership structure they had here—three
elders and no alpha—intrigued him, and he was hopeful that another
conversation with April might help the others warm up to him.

The only other person
he'd interacted with was Blackthorn, who treated him with
politeness and respect, even if the stern wolf did seem to have one
suspicious eye on him at all times.

Cyan was shown to an
empty cabin at the end of a rocky ravine that led off from the main
area, sheltered from the elements by steep cliffs on either side
that sloped inwards. It was quiet and isolated, and that suited
Cyan just fine.

He was uncomfortable
around the hubbub of the busy pack. It stirred too many unwanted
memories of a time when he'd had to deal with that many people on a
regular basis.

After eating he slept
an exhausted, dreamless sleep on his hard mattress while the rest
of his clothes dried in front of the cabin's small fireplace,
waking mid way through the afternoon. As tired as he was, he could
never sleep for long, and his inner wolf was itching to be
acknowledged.

He dressed and
extinguished the fire, washing his face with water from a jug that
some helpful soul had left outside his door while he slept.

The snow was falling
thick and fast by the time he stepped out of the ravine and back
into the main camp. A heavy carpet of white flakes had already
settled despite the rain, and even the large fire from earlier was
beginning to sizzle and gutter as snow blew in beneath the creaking
gazebo.

He hung back, watching
the camp for a moment as he caught sight of Blackthorn standing in
the middle of the main gravel path, blocking the camp's exit. April
and her mate-to-be were talking to him, but he seemed reluctant to
let them pass. Finally he relented, and the pair hurried off into
the gathering snow while Blackthorn turned his stern gaze back to
the few hangers-on around the main fire.

Slipping off the path
and behind the nearest cabin Cyan made his way around the camp,
moving from tree to tree until he had circumvented Blackthorn,
hoping that the snow would cover his tracks before anyone noticed
them. He buttoned up the collar of his jacket, curling his fingers
into fists against the cold, and set off at a jog away from the
camp. His wolf was getting impatient.

Just
wait,
he told it.
Not long now. I'll let you off your leash, but not near these
people.
He grit his teeth and picked up
the pace.

If only he'd had an
instinct as boring as April's.

* * * * *

"Maybe Blackthorn was
right," April called to her partner as she picked her way through
the snow, clutching at the insides of her mittens for warmth. "We
won't be able to find anything in this weather."

"There's still time!"
Harper called back, flashing her a smile over his shoulder,
windswept flecks of snow peppering his hair. "Come on, we'll go up
to the bridge and see if there are any scents to follow."

"That's a long way.
What if we get stuck out there?"

"We'll stay in the
hunting cabin, then I'll have you all to myself till the weather
dies down."

April smiled beneath
her scarf. She didn't like the idea of spending the night away from
the pack, but maybe some quality time with Harper would be good for
her.

"You'll be lucky to
find any kind of scent in this weather," a deep voice called from
behind her, and April turned around to see Cyan striding out of the
snow, his jacket buttoned up to the neck, teeth grit against the
cold.

"What are you doing out
here?" Harper said, and took a step back to put a hand on April's
shoulder.

Cyan grunted. "Hunting.
If I'm going to sit around and eat your food the least I can do is
replace it. Know any good spots nearby?"

Harper's hand relaxed a
little, and he pointed down the mountain slope to the south.
"There's hares in the forest down that way."

April gave their new
companion a welcoming nod and eased Harper's hand off her shoulder.
"Harper, this is Cyan. Cyan, Harper. We're just off on a little
patrol. We've got feral wolves in the mountains around here, and
Blackthorn likes to know whenever they get too close."

"Mm, I gathered," Cyan
said, his eyes flicking towards Harper. "Are they dangerous?"

"Sometimes." April's
partner shrugged. "We've had... accidents in the past. They keep
their distance as long as we scare them off every once in a while,
though."

"Well be careful out
there. You'll have a hard time catching their scent in this
weather."

"We will." April
smiled. "Harper knows what he's doing." She patted her partner's
arm, and they turned to carry on the way they'd been going. Cyan's
eyes met hers for a moment, and she caught a glimmer of concern in
his gaze.

Her skin warmed
slightly at the intensity of the look, but a moment later he was
gone, shifting into his wolf form
—a shaggy,
muscular, dark-furred beast—and bounding off down the slope towards
the hunting grounds before another word could pass between
them.

Despite her assurance
that Harper knew what he was doing, part of April was relieved to
have an experienced traveller like Cyan out here as well. He was
right, it would be hard to pick up scents in this weather,
especially after the earlier rain, and the prospect of running into
feral wolves in the middle of a blizzard unnerved her.

They had always been
taught never to be frightened of the ferals, to stand up to them
and assert their dominance, but ever since the previous
winter...

As Harper had said,
accidents happened. There was a reason the pack was down to three
elders now instead of four.

* * * * *

The scent of April
still clung in his nostrils like sweet spice. He should have put
more distance between them before taking his wolf form.

The wind ripped at his
black fur as he tore down the slope, baring his wickedly sharp
teeth against the cold air as his paws flung up flurries of snow,
claws tearing at the damp grass beneath.

She's
different,
his thoughts whispered, the
voice entirely that of his wolf now. Cyan the human was the one in
the back of his head, the quiet voice of reason trying to calm him
and sooth his feral instincts. He didn't want to be soothed. He
wanted to be free, wild, taking what he desired, unleashing the
alpha that the human part of him had kept buried for so
long.

Not
like the other wolves here. Remember her scent. She could be yours,
like the one you let escape from you
—

Cyan barked, shaking
his head sharply as though the human side of him had given a
sudden, vicious yank on an invisible leash.

Those were thoughts he
shouldn't be allowing himself to indulge in. Even the feral part of
him felt the regret of those memories tugging at his heart like a
razor-sharp noose, cutting and terrible.

He buried his muzzle in
the snow, hot breath melting the flakes as he snorted and snuffled,
trying to purge the enticing scent of the red-haired girl and pick
up any trace of fresh prey.

It was hard relying on
his nose these days. The scars across his muzzle were a painful
reminder of everything he'd left behind, and his wolf's keen sense
of smell had never quite been the same ever since the day he gotten
them.

His eyes and ears,
however, were sharper than ever. A flicker of movement, almost
indistinguishable from the carpet of snow, caught his attention,
and his pointed ears pricked up, the dark wolf lowering his body to
the ground. He could hear the drumming of tiny feet against the
ground through the swirl and patter of snowflakes, and a moment
later he caught sight of the hare's pointed ears poking up from
behind a white-tipped tangle of branches.

He eased forward, his
powerful muscles rolling smoothly with oiled precision as he
stalked the critter, catching its dull scent on the wind and
latching on to the smell. He bared his teeth, anticipation building
in his chest as he closed the distance between him and his quarry.
He fancied he could almost hear its heartbeat pounding in his ears,
taste the fresh blood on his tongue already.

The human voice in the
back of his head was gone now. This was his moment, all of his
previous doubts and concerns swept away by the thrill of the
hunt.

The hunt. The pursuit.
The chase.

But there was only one
part of it that truly mattered: the victory.

That was his instinct.
The desire to dominate, control, and claim. It had been the perfect
instinct to make him alpha of his own pack so long ago, and the
perfect instinct to drive him to the terrible things that had
branded him the outcast he was now.

It was also his
instinct that had kept him alive in the wilderness well past the
point at which most others would have given up and died.

The hare's ears flicked
away from him, and he took his chance, coiling his body for the
pounce, rising up over the fallen branches with his teeth bared,
amber eyes fixed on his prey as he approached from its blind
spot.

A dull growl rumbled in
the back of his throat, and at the last moment the white snowshoe
flicked its head around to see the black wolf looming out of the
snow.

Cyan lunged, his teeth
flashed, and it was over in an instant. The hare's hot blood filled
his mouth, the taste of it bathing his tongue and flooding his
muzzle as the creature twitched one last time, the savage pleasure
of the successful hunt pumping through his veins stronger than any
rush of adrenaline.

He dropped the hare on
the crimson-spattered snow, raising his head to the sky as a savage
howl of elation rose in the back of his throat.

His world shrunk down
to a pinpoint of a moment. There was only him, his prey, and the
coppery taste of blood, hot and fresh on his breath.

For a few seconds
nothing else mattered. He couldn't remember April, or the Highland
Pack, or all of the things that had come before. For once his wolf
was satisfied, and the primal feeling of victory that gripped him
was more satisfying than the sweetest kiss of any lover.

But it was over far too
quickly. One hare was no great conquest, and the wolf was thirsty
for more.

He licked the blood
from his muzzle, keen eyes flicking back and forth across his
snowswept surroundings with renewed energy. The human voice in the
back of his head returned, a nuisance that threatened to remind him
of all the things he'd been able to forget for a few blissful
moments, but he pushed it away, sniffing the air for the scent of
fresh prey.

Even his dull sense of
smell felt crisp and keen in the aftermath of the first kill, and
after kicking a drift of snow over the dead hare and making a
mental note of where it lay he set off into the trees again,
prowling on silent paws with his ears pricked and muscles
tensed.

* * * * *

April clutched her
jacket tight to her body, the chill of the wind cutting far more
keenly than it had before.

"We should go back,"
she called to Harper through the blizzard. He was striding ahead,
almost leaving her behind in his hurry. This wasn't how she'd
planned on spending time with him, but something had caught the
attention of his inner wolf. Like a phantom scent, he was pursuing
it with dogged determination, all but forgetting about her as he
strode through the ankle-deep snow.

"Harper!" she called
again, and he glanced over his shoulder, frowning.

"What?"

"You're not even
listening to me up there. What are we looking for?"

"I thought I saw tracks
a while back."

"In this snow?" She
raised her eyebrows. "They could've been anyone's."

He shook his head. "I
want to check, just to be sure. Come on, we're almost at the
ridge."

April caught him by the
arm as he started to turn away. "You don't have to go chasing down
wild wolves to impress me. The snow's getting worse. If we don't
head back soon we'll be stuck out here."