7: The trials Shadow

The greenhouse is the only place Juniper feels like herself. The smell of damp earth and blooming jasmine helps drown out the memory of Alaric’s golden eyes and the sound of howling in the night.

She is busy repotting a fern when a shadow falls over her workbench. She doesn't have to look up to know who it is.

"I thought Alaric told you to stay away from me," Juniper says, her voice steady as she pats the soil.

Vesper leans against a glass pillar, her arms crossed. She looks at Juniper with pure, unheated hatred. "The Alpha protects your life, human. He doesn't protect your feelings. I’m here to tell you that the Council has reached a decision."

Juniper finally looks up. "The Trial? Torin told me about it."

Vesper laughs, a harsh, cold sound. "Torin is a dreamer. He thinks you can survive because you’re 'spunky.' But the Trial of the Luna isn't a debate. It is a test of the blood. You will be sent into the Iron-Wood at night. Alone. You have to find the Moon-Stone and bring it back before dawn."

"That doesn't sound so hard," Juniper says, though her heart is thumping.

"You don't understand," Vesper says, stepping closer until they are nose-to-nose. Vesper smells like iron and old blood. "The Iron-Wood reacts to the Luna. If you are weak, the forest will hunt you. The trees will move. The rogues will scent you. And Alaric is forbidden from helping you. If he steps one foot into the woods to save you, he loses his title as Alpha."

Juniper swallows hard. She looks at her small, human hands. They are covered in dirt, not claws.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Juniper asks. "I didn't choose this. I didn't ask for a wolf to show up in my garden."

"Because I have worked my entire life to be the Luna," Vesper hisses. "I bled for this pack. I fought for it. And then you walk in with your flower pots and your human scent, and the bond chooses you? It’s an insult to our kind."

Vesper turns to leave, but stops at the door. "The Trial is in three nights. Start saying your goodbyes, Little Wildflower."

Later that evening, Juniper finds Torin in the training yard. He is lifting weights that look like they belong on a construction site.

"I need you to teach me something," Juniper says.

Torin stops and wipes sweat from his forehead. "Like what? How to shift? Because I have bad news about that, June..."

"No," Juniper says, picking up a heavy wooden staff from a rack. "Teach me how to fight. Or at least how to not die. If the forest is going to hunt me, I need to know how to hit back."

Torin looks at her with a new sense of respect. "Alaric is going to kill me if I let you get a bruise."

"Alaric isn't the one going into the woods," Juniper says firmly. "I am."

For the next two hours, Torin shows her basic movements. He teaches her how to use her weight, how to strike at the eyes and the throat, and how to listen for footsteps that are too quiet to be human.

"You're fast," Torin notes, breathless. "Most humans are clumsy. You... you move like you belong in the dirt."

"I’ve been hiking these woods since I could walk, Torin. I’m not as fragile as your pack thinks."

As the sun sets, Alaric appears. He looks at Juniper, who is covered in sweat and dust, holding the training staff. His face is a mask of suppressed rage.

"Torin. Out," Alaric growls.

Torin doesn't wait to be told twice. He vanishes.

Alaric marches up to Juniper and rips the staff out of her hand. "What are you doing? I told the Council I would fight the Trial for you."

"And they told you no," Juniper says, crossing her arms. "I'm not a child, Alaric. I heard the rules. If you help me, you lose your pack. If I don't go, you lose your mind. I'm doing the Trial."

"You will die," Alaric says, his voice cracking. He grabs her hands, his fingers trembling. "Juniper, please. I can find another way. I can take you away from here. We can run."

"And leave your people? You’re the Alpha. You told me you protect them." Juniper reaches up and touches his face. The scratch on his cheek has healed, but he looks more tired than ever. "You protected me in the garden. Now let me protect you."

Alaric leans his forehead against hers. He smells like the home she’s starting to realize she never wants to leave.

"I will be at the edge of the woods," he whispers. "Every second you are in there, I will be waiting. If I hear you scream, Juniper... I don't care about the crown. I will come for you."

"I won't scream," Juniper promises, though she isn't sure she can keep it.

She spends the rest of the night in the greenhouse. She isn't just gardening. She is gathering. She picks wolf-bane, stinging nettle, and a rare root that causes temporary blindness if crushed.

She may not have claws. She may not have teeth. But she is an herbalist. And in the Iron-Wood, knowledge is just as sharp as any wolf’s fang.