Broken Moon: Part 1

by King, Claudia

  These days it was why he was so eager for their mating, so ready for children even though they were still young. He wanted to take the next step in his life, to prove to himself that he would make a good mate and father, and to satisfy the niggling urge of his instinct.

  "And what about you?" Cyan said. "Or is your instinct just to be friendly?"

  April flushed, caught a little off balance by the directness of his question. Instincts were a very intimate thing to ask someone about up front.

  "If you don't want to tell me that's fine," Cyan added. "I understand it's personal."

  "No, it's not that." April shook her head. "It's just..." She looked his way, biting her lip. "Mine's not very fun."

  "Not very fun? I've never heard that one before."

  She sighed. "I mean, it isn't very interesting. Everyone's instinct is always— I don't know, it feels like it's them, while mine is a whole bunch of... bleh."

  Cyan waited for her to carry on, and she gave him a sheepish look before continuing.

  "I just like to nest. You know, make a home. Get cosy. Have everything be just right. It agitates me when things don't fit into my world view the way they're supposed to."

  "That's a good instinct. I'd be much happier if that was all my wolf ever wanted."

  "Yeah, that's what everyone here says too." April sighed. "But I'm still interested in other things. I'd love to visit the other packs some day, even go down into the city with all the regular people, but it's like my wolf just wants to be a good little stay-at-home girl for the pack. Every time I get the urge to try something new I end up reminding myself that it's best to just settle down and keep things the way they are. I don't know, maybe it's better that way. At least I don't end up getting into trouble as much as I did before my instinct was there to hold me back."

  "You're probably right," Cyan said. "It sounds like you've got a good life here. Was that your mate I saw you with earlier?"

  "No," April responded quickly. "Well— yes. I mean, he will be. We're not mated yet."

  "Everything a young werewolf could want."

  "Yeah..." April tucked in her boots against the bench, giving herself a reprimanding huff. "Sorry, I probably sound silly going on about it to you. I guess my human side still has some growing up to do. I've spent half this time talking about myself."

  "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."

  He shrugged off her hand, a touch too sharply. "We're almost there," he repeated, and set off down the foot-worn path again, boots crunching through the snow loudly amidst the whistle of the wind.

  April swallowed the growing lump of anxiety in her throat, waiting for a moment to see if he'd turn back, but knowing it was pointless.

  He was stubborn, especially when he felt like he had something to prove. She wished she hadn't said anything that morning. If she'd just played along like everything was fine, settled into her expected role of doting mate, everything would have been so much easier for her...

  She blinked her eyes against the stinging wind and fell in behind Harper, hurrying to catch up as loose locks of red hair blew into her face.

  "Harper, I—" she
had barely begun before her partner shifted into his wolf form, light brown fur spreading across his body in place of his clothing as his body changed in one fluid motion. In the blink of an eye he was on all fours, sniffing the ground intently as her apology died on her lips.

  For all the things a wolf could do better than a human, having conversations wasn't one of them.

  She looked away, rubbing her eyes as though the wind was bothering her again, waiting for him to catch the scent of whatever trail he was following.

  If there was even a scent to follow

  * * * * *

  Cyan heard April's voice somewhere in the distance, only for a moment, but his ears pricked up at the sound of her and her partner conversing for a few seconds. He growled, the intrusion of their voices an unwelcome reminder of the human way of life he would soon be forced to return to. He would have loved nothing more than to stay out here hunting until night fell and he was free to curl up in some cosy crag in the mountains to sleep.

  But at the same time her voice enticed him. It had been a long time since he'd slept with the warm body of a female beside him, and longer still since he'd dreamt about the possibility of a mate—

  He jerked his head to the side with a snort, startling away the critter he'd been stalking through the bushes. The human part of him was getting impatient. It wouldn't be long before it forced him to shift back, and then who knew how long he'd have to go without the taste of fresh blood and the thrill of the hunt to satisfy him again. He dared to challenge the human in the back of his mind a moment longer, baring his teeth and listening for the sound of April's voice again, but it was gone, lost amongst the wind.

  With another snort he lowered his muzzle back to the snow, trying to pick up the scent of his escaped prey again.