Chapter 66: The Hunt

The wolves at the edge of the forest vanished as quickly as they'd come, melting into the shadows like mist at dawn. But their words lingered in the cold air, settling into my chest like something that would never leave.

*The half-blood has passed the first test. Now let's see if she can pass the second.*

I stood at the edge of the camp, Stellan's hand in mine, and felt the weight of those words press down on me. The hunt had been the first test. The wolves who still doubted me, the old ways that still bound us, the future I was trying to build—they were all waiting to see what I would become.

"The second test," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "What is it?"

Stellan was quiet for a moment. Then: "I don't know. But whatever it is, we'll face it together."

I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his skin, the pulse of the bond. "Together."

---

The morning came too fast.

I woke to the sound of voices outside the tent—low, urgent, familiar. Stellan was already awake, his body tense, his eyes fixed on the entrance. "Bjorn is here," he said. "He wants to speak with you."

I sat up, pulling the furs around me. "What does he want?"

Before Stellan could answer, the tent flap opened, and Bjorn stepped inside.

He was old—older than most, his fur silver, his eyes pale. But today, there was something different about him. Something that looked almost like respect.

"The second test," he said, his voice low. "The pack has decided. You will hunt with us. Not as Luna. Not as Alpha's mate. As a wolf. As one of us."

I stared at him. "Hunt with you?"

"The winter hunt is old. Older than the packs. Older than the wolves. It tests a wolf's strength, her skill, her courage. It tests what she is made of." He stepped closer. "You passed the first test. You proved you could lead. Now you must prove you can follow. That you can hunt with the pack, fight with the pack, bleed with the pack."

Stellan's hand caught my arm. "She's already proven herself. She's already—"

"She's proven she's strong." Bjorn's voice was firm. "Now she must prove she's pack."

I felt the weight of his words, the weight of the pack's expectations, the weight of everything I'd been fighting for since the day I stabbed Ronan and jumped into the darkness.

"I'll do it," I said.

Bjorn nodded slowly. "Then prepare yourself. The hunt begins at dawn."

He turned and walked away, leaving me alone with Stellan and the weight of what I'd just agreed to.

---

The pack gathered at the edge of the forest as the sun rose.

They stood in the snow, their faces turned toward me, their bodies tense, their eyes watchful. The North Star wolves were there—Dag and his loyal wolves, the ones who had stayed, the ones who had fought. The Bozkurt wolves were there—Altan and Ayşe, the Elder and the wolves who had followed them across the mountains. And the doubters were there—Bjorn and his wolves, their faces hard, their eyes fixed on me.

Stellan stood at my side, his hand in mine, the bond pulsing between us. "You don't have to prove anything to them," he said, his voice low. "You've already proven everything."

I looked at the wolves before me, at the pack that had doubted me, that had feared me, that had only just begun to accept me. "They need to see."

He squeezed my hand. "Then show them."

---

Bjorn stepped forward, his voice carrying across the camp. "The winter hunt is old. Older than the packs. Older than the wolves. It tests a wolf's strength, her skill, her courage. It tests what she is made of."

He looked at me, and I saw something in his eyes that might have been hope.

"The half-blood will hunt with us. She will track the elk through the forest, bring it down with her own claws, and return to the pack with proof of her kill." He stepped back. "If she succeeds, she will be pack. If she fails..." He didn't finish. He didn't need to.

I stepped forward, my head high, my voice steady. "I will succeed."

The pack was silent. And then, one by one, they began to howl.

---

The forest was dark when we entered it, the trees pressing close, the shadows moving in ways that shouldn't be possible. Bjorn led the way, his steps silent, his senses sharp. Behind him, the other wolves moved like shadows, their bodies low, their breath slow.

And I moved with them.

The Bozkurt training had taught me to move like this—silent, patient, waiting. Ayşe had shown me how to track, how to follow the scent through the undergrowth, how to read the signs that the prey left behind. Altan had taught me to fight, to use my claws, my teeth, my strength. And the Elder had taught me to listen, to feel the forest, to become part of it.

I was ready.

The scent came to me on the wind—elk, old and strong, its body massive, its antlers spread wide. I signaled to Bjorn, my hand raised, my body still. He nodded, his eyes bright, and the pack moved forward.

We found the elk at the edge of a clearing, its head lowered, its breath steaming in the cold air. It was massive—larger than any elk I'd ever seen—its antlers like trees, its eyes bright, its body tense.

Bjorn looked at me. "Your kill," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Show us what you can do."

I moved.

The Bozkurt training took over—my body low, my steps silent, my senses sharp. I moved through the shadows like water, like wind, like something that had been hunting since before the wolves came to these lands. The elk didn't see me. Didn't hear me. Didn't know I was there until I was on it.

I shifted—not fully, but enough. My claws extended, my teeth bared, my wolf rising to meet the prey. The elk turned, its antlers lowering, its eyes blazing.

I lunged.

My claws found its throat, my teeth found its flesh, my body pressed against its side. It struggled, its antlers thrashing, its hooves kicking, its strength immense. But I held on. I held on, and I didn't let go.

And when it fell, I fell with it, my claws still in its throat, my teeth still in its flesh, my heart pounding, my breath ragged.

The pack was silent.

I stood, my body covered in blood that wasn't mine, my hands shaking, my breath coming in gasps. Bjorn stepped forward, his eyes fixed on me, his face unreadable.

"The kill is yours," he said, his voice low. "The hunt is complete."

I looked at the elk, at the blood on my hands, at the pack that was watching me with something that might have been respect.

"The hunt is complete," I said. "I am pack."

---

The pack erupted into howls.

They surged forward, their voices rising into the night, their joy echoing off the mountains. Bjorn was the first to reach me, his hand on my shoulder, his eyes bright. "You did it," he said. "You proved yourself."

I looked at him—at the wolf who had doubted me, who had feared me, who had only just begun to accept me. "I am pack."

He smiled—the first real smile I'd seen from him. "You are pack."

Stellan was beside me in an instant, his arms wrapping around me, his face buried in my hair. "You did it," he whispered. "You showed them."

I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his skin, the pulse of the bond. "We did it."

---

The celebrations lasted through the night.

The pack gathered around the fire, their voices raised in song, their bodies moving in the old dances. The elk was roasted, the meat shared, the stories told. And I sat at the center of it all, Stellan's hand in mine, the bond pulsing between us.

"You're pack now," he said, his voice low. "You're one of them."

I looked at the wolves around us—at Dag and his loyal wolves, at Altan and Ayşe, at the Elder and the wolves who had followed her across the mountains. At Bjorn, who was watching me with something that might have been respect.

"I'm pack," I said. "I'm home."

He pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me, his face buried in my hair. "You're home."

---

Later, when the celebrations had ended and the camp was quiet, Bjorn came to find me.

He stood at the entrance of our tent, his face pale, his eyes bright. "I doubted you," he said. "I thought you were too weak. Too young. Too half-blood to lead."

I looked at him. "And now?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "Now I see what the pack sees. What Stellan sees. What the old ones see." He knelt before me, his head bowed. "You are pack. You are Luna. You are what we need."

I reached down and pulled him to his feet. "I'm just a wolf. A wolf who chose love. A wolf who chose the pack. A wolf who will never stop fighting for what she believes in."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he smiled.

"Then we'll fight with you. We'll fight beside you. We'll follow you wherever you lead."