11:The Wolf's Bride

Arthur marched past the game he had hunted, his steps quickening as the baby’s cries grew louder. The eerie sound pierced the stillness of the forest, urging him forward.

His pulse raced with uncertainty, and before he realized it, he had broken into a run. Leaping over fallen branches and dodging low-hanging limbs, he pressed on until he reached a hill, its height nearly twice his own.

The cries echoed from the other side. Who would leave a child out here? Could the baby truly be alone?

Arthur ducked behind a tree, scanning the area. The full moon cast just enough light for him to make out the terrain. No movement. No sign of anyone else.

Cautiously, he moved around the hill—and froze.

A newborn baby girl lay cradled in the lap of a dying woman.

The mother, no older than himself, sat slumped against the hill. Sweat drenched her pale face, and blood stained her clothes and the ground beneath her. Her chest barely rose and fell, her breaths shallow. A small knife, slick with blood, dangled weakly from her fingers.

Arthur knelt beside her, eyes darting to the umbilical cord still connecting her to the child. The woman had tied makeshift clamps around it—two pieces of cloth cinched tightly. She’d tried to sever it herself but hadn’t finished the task.

Without hesitation, Arthur took the knife from her trembling hand and cut the cord.

The woman flinched but managed a faint, “Thank you.”

Arthur gave her a reassuring nod, but she strained to move her head, shifting it to the left. He followed her gaze, half-expecting danger. Instead, his eyes fell on a torn piece of paper resting on the ground.

“Down,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Arthur picked up the paper and squinted at the faded words.

“In turmoil, a child will be born under the full moon. The moon will leave its mark on her. The moonchild is destined to mate the Alpha…”

The words stopped abruptly where the paper had been torn.

“The prophecy isn’t complete,” Arthur murmured, stuffing the paper into his pocket.

The woman gave the slightest nod, as if to say she already knew.

Arthur’s gaze lifted to the full moon. He didn’t believe in prophecies, but the weight of the moment settled heavily on his shoulders. His eyes fell back to the baby just as a faint glow lit up her tiny wrist.

A gasp escaped him.

A mark appeared—round and lifelike, a perfect image of the full moon.

The woman saw it too and released a labored sigh of relief.

Arthur reached out and gently touched the mark. It shimmered before dimming into what looked like a simple tattoo.

The woman stirred one last time.

“Call her Arda,” she whispered, and then her body went still.

Arthur swallowed hard as the baby’s cries grew louder, her tiny voice filled with grief and fear.

With trembling hands, he closed the woman’s eyes. Then he lifted the crying infant into his arms and held her close.

“Shh, don’t be afraid, little one,” he murmured, though his own voice trembled.

The baby refused to be soothed.

Arthur sighed. “I don’t know much about your story, and I’m not sure I’m the right person for this job. But I’ll do my best to care for you.”

He looked down at her tear-streaked face.

“I’ll make sure your mother gets a proper burial—among my ancestors. You’re family now, little moonchild. Until the time comes when your destiny unfolds… when you meet the Alpha.”

---

Arda blinked, snapping back to the present as Arthur finished recounting the story. Her gaze dropped to the mark on her wrist—the same mark that had appeared all those years ago.

“So, she is some kind of freak of nature?” Mabel scoffed.

“Shut up,” Arthur snapped. “Go to your room. I’ve had enough of your nonsense.”

“Whatever. At least now we all know who gets the inheritance.”

Mabel stomped off, slamming her bedroom door.

Arda turned to her parents. “How long has she known?”

“She overheard us when she was eight,” Arthur said.

“We told her not to say anything,” Mrs. Arthur added.

Arda exhaled. No wonder Mabel had always resented her. She’d probably felt like an outsider in her own home.

“It’s okay,” Arda said, smiling to ease the tension. “Dad, come sit over here.”

Arthur moved to sit beside her, and she wrapped her arms around both her parents.

“You were really brave that night, Dad. And, Mom, I’m glad you didn’t tell him to give me up.”

Mrs. Arthur chuckled. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

“Seriously,” Arda teased, mimicking a dramatic voice. “‘There’s no way I’m raising a random baby!’”

They all laughed, tension easing for the first time in hours.

“I love you both,” Arda said.

“We love you too.”

Her mother kissed her forehead, but as much as Arda felt loved, an emptiness lingered.

She wanted to ask about the Alpha, but decided against it. Her parents had been through enough.

The prophecy weighed on her mind. Was she really destined to mate with a werewolf? Maybe that explained Luke’s headaches.

But none of it mattered.

She didn’t care about the prophecy, the moon, or the Alpha. She just wanted to live a normal life—graduate, get a job, find a nice boy, and raise a family.

Let the Alpha find someone else.

The next time he contacted her, she’d tell him exactly where to go. Hell.