Chapter 2- The silent moon

The wind howled through the Blackfang woods, carrying the faint scent of rain. It had been seven years since the night of Samantha’s failed ceremony, seven years since the pack had stopped calling her by name.

They called her The Wolfless One now.

Some whispered it in pity, others in disgust. She’d long stopped correcting them.

The only place she still found peace was in the healer’s hut. The scent of herbs filled the small wooden space, masking the sharp tang of disinfectant. Samantha stood over a wounded scout, wrapping a gash on his arm with calm precision.

“Hold still,” she murmured.

The young wolf winced. “You’ve got steady hands, for someone without a wolf.”

Samantha didn’t flinch. She tied the final knot and straightened, her expression unreadable. “You’re healed. Try not to tear it open again.”

He muttered an apology and slipped out.

“Your patience is terrifying sometimes,” came a familiar voice from behind her.

Samantha turned to find Taylor leaning against the doorway, her wild ginger hair half-tied, brown eyes bright with mischief. “I’d have hit him with that bandage roll if it were me.”

“That’s because you never stop talking.”

Taylor gasped dramatically. “Insulting the only person who still talks to you? Harsh.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Samantha’s lips. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m realistic,” Taylor said, hopping onto the table beside her. “You’ve become the most mysterious person in the pack. People either stare or avoid you like you’ll curse them.”

“Maybe I will,” Samantha said dryly, rolling up the leftover gauze.

Taylor laughed, swinging her legs. “I still think it’s unfair. You saved half this pack from the fever last winter, and they act like you’re invisible.”

“They prefer their healers quiet.”

“They prefer their wolves normal.”

Samantha didn’t reply. The silence stretched until Taylor’s grin faded into something softer. “Sorry. I just hate how they look at you sometimes.”

“I stopped noticing.”

“That’s a lie.”

Samantha’s lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Before Taylor could press further, a sharp knock sounded on the doorframe. One of the guards stood there, posture stiff. “The Alpha wants you, Samantha.”

Her stomach tightened. “Now?”

He nodded. “They’ve returned from Valdyr Academy.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “Cade?”

Samantha didn’t answer. She wiped her hands on her apron and followed the guard out.

The Blackfang courtyard was alive with noise and celebration. Wolves shifted between forms, laughter echoing through the stone archways. The returning warriors, the Academy graduates, stood proudly at the center, greeted with cheers.

Cade Kessler stood at their head.

He was taller now, broader, his presence commanding in a way that made even seasoned warriors instinctively defer. His golden hair caught the sunlight, and his once-boyish grin had hardened into something sharper.

Samantha stopped at the edge of the crowd. Her heart thudded painfully.

He looks like him, she thought. Like his father.

Rowan clasped Cade’s shoulder proudly. “Welcome home, son. The pack awaits its future Alpha.”

Cade bowed his head slightly. “It’s good to be back, Father.”

The crowd erupted in approval.

But as his gaze swept across the faces before him, his eyes caught on her. For a moment, the world seemed to still. The smile on his lips faltered, replaced by something softer, disbelief, maybe even pain.

Samantha turned before he could say anything and disappeared into the crowd.

She thought avoiding him would be easy. It wasn’t.

Cade sought her out the next morning, just as she was hanging fresh herbs to dry in the healer’s hut.

“You weren’t going to say hello?”

His voice came from behind her, deeper now, steadier. She froze.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” she said quietly.

“I noticed,” he said, stepping into view. “How could I not?”

He looked so different, taller, stronger, more Alpha than boy, and yet, when he smiled, it was the same grin that had teased her in the training fields years ago.

“You’ve changed,” he said softly.

“So have you,” she replied. “You’re—”

“Still Cade,” he interrupted with a faint smirk. “Don’t look at me like I grew another head.”

Samantha turned back to her herbs. “Congratulations. The pack’s proud of you.”

He frowned. “Are you?”

Her hands stilled. “Of course.”

“But you won’t even look at me.”

“I’m busy.”

“Samantha.” His tone was low now...commanding, like his father’s. “Look at me.”

Against her will, she did. And the warmth in his eyes undid her.

“You disappeared on me,” he said quietly. “No letters. No messages. Nothing.”

“You were training to be an Alpha, Cade. You had your own life.”

“You were part of it.”

She swallowed hard. “Not anymore.”

He blinked, hurt flashing across his face. “Why are you talking like this?”

“Because it’s true,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “You’ve become everything this pack needs. And I’m the one thing it doesn’t.”

“Stop.” He stepped closer. “You think I care what they say about you? About your wolf? You think that changes what you mean to me?”

Samantha turned away, heart pounding. “You don’t understand. You can’t.”

“Then make me understand.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. Please, Cade… just leave it.”

He stared at her for a long moment, jaw tightening. “Fine. For now.”

When he left, she exhaled shakily, unaware that Taylor had been listening from outside, worry written all over her face.

That night, the pack’s celebration roared to life. Bonfires burned, drums echoed, and wolves danced beneath the stars. Samantha stayed in the shadows, tending to the injured warriors who’d had a little too much to drink.

Taylor appeared beside her, a cup of wine in hand. “You’re really not going to join?”

“I’m working.”

“You’re hiding.”

Samantha sighed. “He’s the Alpha’s son. I’m a healer. There’s nothing more to say.”

Taylor’s smirk faded. “You still love him.”

Samantha didn’t answer.

Taylor nudged her gently. “You could at least dance with someone else. Make him jealous.”

“I’m not that cruel.”

“You’re also not that brave.”

Before Samantha could retort, a deep, guttural roar ripped through the night.

The music stopped instantly. Every head turned toward the forest bordering the camp. The sound came again, louder this time, animalistic, but… wrong.

Cade was already shifting before anyone spoke, his wolf bursting forth in a flash of gold fur. The warriors followed suit, forming a perimeter.

“Stay inside!” someone shouted at the healers.

Samantha ignored them.

Moments later, two guards stumbled from the treeline, dragging a third between them, bloodied, limp, gasping.

“Attack,” one choked out. “At the border—creature—no scent—”

The words barely left his mouth before he collapsed.

Samantha dropped to her knees beside him, pressing her hands to his wounds. “He’s still breathing! I need more light!”

Taylor rushed to fetch lanterns. Warriors gathered around, tense and watchful.

As Samantha worked, her pulse quickened. Something about the wounds was off, jagged, deep, but not like a wolf’s bite. The flesh was torn as though burned.

“What did this?” she whispered.

No one answered.

A sudden hush fell. Every wolf turned instinctively toward the treeline. A figure stood there, old, frail, leaning on a cane. Elder Corvin.

Samantha blinked. “Elder? What are you doing out here?”

The old man didn’t respond. His white eyes glowed faintly, unnaturally. He raised his hand, pointing at the fallen wolf

“The prophecy…” he rasped. “The Goddess stirs again. The blood moon is coming. And when it does—”

“Elder!” Cade’s voice rang out, shifting back into human form as he strode forward. “You shouldn’t be here!”

Corvin’s mouth twisted into a strange smile. “The time has come. The time has come.”

Then, just as suddenly, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

Chaos erupted.

“Get him to the infirmary!” Rowan barked.

But Samantha couldn’t move. Her hands trembled as the words echoed in her head. What time is he talking about?

That night, when she finally fell asleep, she dreamt.

She stood beneath a blood-red moon, the air heavy with power. A man emerged from the shadows, tall, broad-shouldered, his silver eyes glowing like molten light.

He stepped closer to her, his form over shadowing her.

When he reached out, she flinched and woke with a gasp, her sheets damp with sweat.

The moon outside her window burned crimson.

*

The morning mist clung to the forest floor like a soft, silver veil as Samantha stepped beyond the safety of the Silverthorn border. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, and somewhere in the distance, a bird called, breaking the stillness. She tightened the strap of her satchel, the small leather pouch bouncing against her hip, filled halfway with crushed leaves and dried petals. She was searching for more, something stronger, something that could help the wounded wolf she and the healers had found at the border last night.

He still hadn’t woken, his wounds deep and strange, too clean to be made by claws, too vicious to be human. She couldn’t shake the image of his blood on spilling to the floor or the eerie calm that had settled over him before they carried him back.

Her boots crunched softly on the undergrowth as she crouched by a cluster of pale blue flowers. “Moonwort,” she murmured, brushing her fingers gently over the petals. “You’ll do.” She began plucking them carefully, placing each one into her pouch. The forest around her seemed to hum faintly, the trees whispering in the cold morning breeze.

“Careful, child. The woods listen when you speak their name.”

Samantha jerked upright, heart pounding. An old man stepped out from behind a tree, his staff tapping lightly against the roots. Elder Corvin. His cloak was dusted with dew, and his white hair caught the faint glimmer of sunlight filtering through the trees.

“Elder Corvin,” she breathed, relief and confusion mixing in her chest. “You scared me.”

The elder chuckled, though his eyes were grave. “Fear keeps the senses sharp. I was wondering when I’d find you here.”

“You knew I’d come?”

He nodded, gazing toward the horizon where the forest thinned into light. “You seek herbs for the fallen wolf, yes? But the forest didn’t call you here just for that.”

Samantha frowned. “What do you mean?”

Corvin’s eyes seemed to hold a strange gleam, as though reflecting something beyond sight. “Last night, I spoke to the council. I told them the goddess was stirring, te old power returning to these lands. Few believed me, I could tell, but I see her light, faint but steady. And it’s close to you, child.”

A chill ran down Samantha’s spine. “The goddess? You think… she’s coming back?”

He smiled faintly. “Not coming back. Waking.”

They walked slowly between the trees, the elder’s voice calm yet weighty. “There are signs, dreams, visions, strange silences in the air. Have you felt them?”

Samantha hesitated. “I… don’t know. I’ve been restless. My dreams are strange lately, but they’re just dreams. Shadows. Fire. A wolf I don’t recognize.”

Corvin turned to face her fully. “Dreams are the goddess’s language. When the heart begins to hear her, the mind will try to explain her away. Do not let it.”

“I don’t understand.”

He rested a hand on her shoulder, his palm warm despite the chill. “You will. But you must learn to listen to your instincts, to your heart. It will tell you things no elder or Alpha can. When the time comes, the pack may not see the truth as you do. And if that happens…” He paused, his expression tightening. “You must be brave enough to stand alone.”

Samantha’s chest tightened. “You speak as if something bad is coming.”

Corvin’s eyes softened. “Not bad. Necessary. Every dawn begins in darkness, child. But remember this no matter what voice speaks around you, trust the one that stirs within. That’s where the goddess will whisper first.”

For a long while, the forest was quiet except for the rustle of the trees. Samantha didn’t know what to say. She wanted to ask him more about the dreams, about the goddess but when she came out of her thoughts, he was already walking away, his cloak brushing through the ferns.

“Elder Calvin!” she called. “Will I see you again?” knowing somehow that this might be the last time and a wave of sadness settled over her.

He didn’t look back. “When the forest has spoken its final secret,” he said softly, “you’ll know where to find me.”

The words lingered in the air long after he disappeared into the trees.

The next morning, the Silverthorn Pack woke to confusion. Elder Calvin’s hut stood empty, his bed untouched, his walking staff leaning against the wall where he’d left it the night before. No one had seen him leave. Search patrols combed the woods for hours, calling his name until their voices cracked. There were no footprints, no scent trail, no sign of struggle only the faint smell of pine and something older.

Samantha stood at the edge of the forest, her pouch of herbs forgotten in her hands. A single blue petal drifted from it, carried by the wind.

She remembered his last words, trust the one that stirs within.