Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
The runes along the rope pulse steadily with my magic.
“Has anyone found Ivy yet?”
“No, Luna.”
I cross my arms, fighting the urge to fidget under Kellan’s rigid professionalism. The guards pretend not to notice the tension, but their careful attention to their tasks speaks volumes. We’re all playing our roles, maintaining the hierarchy that keeps the pack stable.
Marcus isn’t here. Neither is Greg, or other faces I’m familiar with. I wish they were, even though I know they’d be treating me the same way Kellan is.
But I’m not ready to ask if they’re okay.
I’ll check, Selene offers.
Shaking my head, I reply, No. If it’s bad news, I’ll break right here.
Grimoire, oblivious to my emotional state, barges into my head again. I just can’t get a read on this thing. It has no presence at all. Like it doesn’t exist.
The silver-haired figure draws my attention again. No point in dwelling on pack politics when we have this mystery to solve. My magic pulses through the runes I’ve carved into the rope, steady and strong, but something feels off about our captive.
I take a step closer, reaching out with my magical senses. Nothing. Not even a whisper of energy or life force. If I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t know anyone was there.
It isn’t right. No magic, no life force, no… anything.
Perhaps they’re dead, Selene suggests.
But I shake my head. “Heart’s beating. They’re breathing.”
A few guards glance over, but they look away once they realize I’m talking to people inside my head again. I should probably stop talking out loud one of these days. It’s a quirk no other wolf has.
Grimoire, are you absolutely sure you don’t know what they are?
If I knew what manner of creature this was, don’t you think I would have told you by now?
Selene’s ears prick forward as she lifts her head to stare at my bag, where Grimoire is safely nestled. She bristles. Watch your tone, book.
I apologize, little witch. His voice softens immediately. That was uncalled for. I’m frustrated by my own ignorance in this matter. In all my years, I’ve never encountered anything quite like this. I’m concerned.
The idea that there’s an entire person who can leave Grimoire so puzzled is certainly a foreboding one.
I still think they’re dead, Selene mutters. Look.
“Stop that.” My voice comes out sharper than intended as Selene starts pawing at and tossing different body parts with her muzzle. Each one falls with a limp flop to the ground, like a ragdoll.
They’re not responding to pain stimuli, she says, nosing at their shoulder. Look at this.
She shoves her muzzle under their neck and gives a sharp toss. Their head flops and falls to the ground like a stone, with a meaty thud that makes me cringe.
This person, or whatever they are, harmed my people. But there’s still something weird about seeing their head hit the ground over and over, and my husky-wolf playing with their body like it’s some sort of toy. “I get the point. You can stop now.”
I’m telling you, they’re dead.
“They’re unconscious,” I mutter. But I clear my throat. “Beta Ashbourne, could you check their pulse?”
I’d do it myself, but I’d probably get tackled if I got to close to them again. Now that they’re tied up and sealed, I shouldn’t be approaching them anymore.
Kellan responds immediately, keeling beside the prone figure. His fingers press against their throat. “Steady pulse,” he reports.
“But they’re not responding to anything.”
“No.”
Selene noses their face again, and I resist the urge to scold her. The silver-haired person’s head lolls to the side, their features slack.
See? Selene paws at their chest. Breathing. Heart beating. But no response. Not even a twitch.
The guards maintain their positions, but I notice a few stealing glances our way. They must think we’re crazy—their Luna and her husky poking at an unconscious attacker like they’re some fascinating science experiment.
At least I’m not the one actually doing anything.
Selene lifts their hand with her muzzle. It falls with another dull thud.
“Please stop that.”
Why? They tried to kill you.
“Because it’s…” I struggle to find the right words. “It feels wrong.”
Wrong like everything else about them? She noses their silver hair. No scent. Everything has a scent.
She’s right, but watching her toss around their limbs makes my stomach turn.
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LUCAS
Something isn’t right.
Maybe it’s the smooth run through the night. Maybe it’s the peace in the air. I’m so used to something coming around every corner these days; for plans to move without a single hiccup, it’s no wonder my paranoia is on the rise.
The flat landscape stretches before us, an endless expanse of winter-kissed grass and scattered snow patches. My paws eat up the distance with practiced ease, though my mind wanders to the watch secured in the pack strapped to my back. One quick shift and I could check on Ava.
No. I promised myself I wouldn’t hover.
Aurum rumbles in agreement, but a whine escapes him anyway. The scent of honey and vanilla has long faded, but lingers in our mind.
Soon, I promise him. We’ll be back before you know it.
My wolf’s restlessness mirrors my own. The territory ahead shouldn’t be so bare, and I should be able to sense something with my pack link. Yet we’ve encountered nothing but empty plains and unsettling silence.
There’s not a single sign of Ryder’s passing.
Vester appears by my side, keeping our steady pace easily. We should have crossed paths with at least three different patrols by now.
His thoughts echo my own. We’re close enough to Jericho’s safe haven that I should sense him, should be able to reach out through our bond. But there’s nothing beyond our small group.
We knew this was a possibility. We’ll know more when we get closer. Any word from Vanessa?
His mate’s reach is farther than mine. I’m not certain of its exact limitations, but I know she’s messaged him at long distances in the past.
Nothing since well before dawn.
The sun beats down from its highest point, marking noon’s arrival. We’re maybe two hours out from our destination, but each step feels wrong.
Aurum’s hackles rise as we cross a familiar marker—an old oak split by lightning. I haven’t seen it myself, but its impression lies deep in my memory, given by my scouts.
There are no birds. No small game. Just the whisper of wind over crusted snow.
Something isn’t right.
Agreed, Alpha. But I scent nothing. Not even his vampire friends.
That’s what bothers me most. No trace of friend or foe. Just… emptiness.
Someone must have been through here in recent days. But not even a rabbit?
Nature shouldn’t be this clean of life’s traces. It’s unrealistic.
Just keep your senses open.
Understood, Alpha.