Hand in hand, both Ophelia and Noah walked into the main house’s portico. They were the first ones to arrive, the reason was obvious, Ophelia couldn’t sit still for another minute in the infirmary with Noah. The wind was chilly on their cheeks, Noah shrunk into the fur of his black puff jacket, its collar reaching all the way up to his mouth. His hair reached almost to the nape of his neck while the top parted on either side of his head, reaching a little below his eyebrows. His scarlet eyes were bright behind the dark curtains of his hair. Despite being the future Alpha of the pack, he still couldn’t handle the cold. He stood at the edge of the stairs to allow the sunlight to warm his young body. On the other hand, Ophelia stood with her head up taking the cold air straight on. Noah could see the tip of her nose turning red with cold. “You are going to catch a cold,” he said, his voice muffled through the fabric. He could feel the fur against his tongue. “I’m not really cold,”

It was hard to tell from this distance if Ophelia was crying or not. But Noah couldn’t help but think that he saw her shoulders shudder. The naive part of him hoped it was only his imagination. However, if she was indeed crying, then he hoped she would let it all out. Let everything that she has been holding back until this moment. Noah felt a chill run down his spine the moment his eyes fell on the lifeless body of the woman on the portico. She lay on the stairs with her head resting on the blood-stained concrete handrail next to her. He had a hard time convincing himself that this woman was dead. If it hadn’t been for the snow covering her, it would have seemed as if she was sitting there waiting for someone to come home - for Ophelia to get back home. Noah felt his heart being pierced with a dagg

The blue flame spurted from Bernard’s hand was a beautiful shade of pastel blue, a shade darker than the morning sky. Aura. The purest form of werewolf's power was the implementation of long years of practice. Not every werewolf is blessed with this ability. Every shifter has his own unique aura, the core of his powers and existence. But not everyone could materialize it like Bernard. Bernard was the second person that Ophelia met who had such strength, the first was her father. His aura unlike Bernard was a pretty shade of lilac purple resembling the color of his eyes. She could count the few times she saw her father use his aura and it was always nothing but a warm flame at the tips of her finger. She only heard from the other knights of the Crescent about the true destructive power of Alpha Gregor’s aura. It was hard to believe that such gentleness could bring about any sort of harm, let alone destruction. She always wondered if she would be able to master her aura just like her

‘I’m just being hopeful,’ Bernard said in the back of his mind. He trusted Garelt’s abilities, he even admitted that they were far superior to his own tracking skills. In short, if there has been someone there, he would get a trace back to them - or at least that’s what was supposed to happen. Garelt returned at the crack of dawn. Ryan pulled open the gates to let the wolf through. Garelt’s brown fur was coated with a thick layer of snow that he dusted away. “So?” Ryan asked raising a brow, he watched the wolf circle around his own tail before laying on the dirt. Ryan caught that he must be tired. He sighed and joined him on the ground, using Garelt’s fur to warm his cold hands. Usually Garelt would growl and bite his hands away. Ryan figured that it was because he was either too tired to react or thankful that he stayed up this late to wait for him to return. Ryan doubted the latter. “Aren’t you going to change back?” Ryan asked, looking at the fur head next to him. Garelt whim

Garelt covered his mouth as he yawned again. He lost count of how many times it has been already since he left his room. He was walking down the hallway with Ryan. Garelt barely got the time to wash up and jump into the first denim jeans and hoodie that he found before Ryan half dragged and half carried him out of the room. On the other hand, Ryan was back into his uniform, his deep-navy hair carefully combed to either side of his temples. Garelt always wondered how Ryan managed to keep his uniform ironed throughout the day. They walked like polar opposites down the hallway, heading to the Alpha’s office. “You should have at least let me do my hair,” Garelt whined, stopping by to see his reflection in a window arrayed down the hallway.