The Luna's Chance

CHAPTER ONE The underbrush yields beneath my paws, damp with the morning's fog that clings to the coastal woods like a lingering spirit. Vee's breaths come in short, sharp pants beside me as we track the deer that wandered from its herd. My ears twitch, tuning into the rustling of leaves and the faint snap of twigs—a language of survival that has become our lifeline since exile. "Stay low," I mutter through clenched teeth, my eyes fixed on the quivering undergrowth ahead where the deer is unwittingly announcing its presence. Vee nods, her strawberry blonde fur a muted beacon amidst the greenery. She’s learned quickly, compensating for what our former packs deemed weakness with a tenacity that often rivals my own. We move as one, shadows flitting between shafts of sunlight that break through the canopy. The salt-laced air fills my lungs, a constant reminder of the untamed sea mere miles away. It whispers of freedom, a bittersweet concept for two outcasts such as ourselves. Suddenly, a shift in the winds draws my attention. I freeze, paw raised, senses heightened. In the distance, through a copse of twisted oaks, I spot him—a huge male wolf, his coat a tapestry of greys and whites, muscles rolling beneath his skin like liquid power. For a moment, he's just a specter, part of the wild landscape, until he turns his head, yellow eyes catching the sun. "Vee," I breathe, barely audible. Her gaze follows mine, locking onto the figure that stands statuesque against the backdrop of gnarled trees and brush. Though she doesn’t say it, I see the calculation behind her eyes—the understanding of what another wolf means for us. Territory. Challenge. Perhaps an ally, but more likely a threat. I weigh our options, the hunger gnawing at my insides battling with the instinctive need to protect what little we have carved out for ourselves in this no-wolf's land. A snarl builds within me, restrained only by years of discipline. We are hunters, yes, but today we are also the hunted, and this new player has yet to show his hand. "Back away slowly," I command, not taking my eyes off the stranger. Our hunt is forgotten, replaced by a more pressing game of dominance and intent. We retreat as silently as we had advanced, the shadow of the massive wolf etched into my vision, a stark reminder that even in exile, the hierarchy of the wild remains unyielding. A rumble vibrates through the forest, a low growl from the sky that rivals my own. The air shifts, charged with anticipation, as the first fat drops of rain splatter against the leaves. They splotch dark on my arms too—arms that moments ago were paws, my shape changed as quickly as the weather. "Storm," Vee whispers tersely, her strawberry blonde hair already clinging to her forehead. Her transformation is as seamless as mine, a skill born of necessity and survival. "Shelter," I respond, equally succinct. There isn't time for more—not when nature's fury promises to be swift and unforgiving. We are creatures attuned to the earth, at home under its canopy, but there's no mistaking the danger rolling in with those clouds, black as the deepest ocean trench. Our legs pump hard as we dash through the underbrush, our strides matching in desperate rhythm. The forest around us groans, bowing to the increasing wind that tugs at every leaf and branch with greedy fingers. Above, the skies darken as if smeared by soot, the day prematurely choked into twilight. "Here!" Vee calls out, pointing to a rocky overhang nestled against a hillside. It's not much, but it will break the onslaught of water and hopefully shield us from the worst of the wind. We slide into the narrow space just as the heavens split open, unleashing a torrential downpour that turns the ground to mud within moments. Pressed close to Vee, I watch the forest become a watery blur. Fatigue seeps into my bones—a deep, weary ache that comes from being chased, from being unwanted. But there's warmth too, an ember of something unspoken that glows brighter with every shared glance, every brush of skin on skin. "Close," I murmur, wrapping an arm around her. It's meant for comfort—for both of us. She nods, leaning into me without hesitation, her body a welcome presence against the chill setting in. We sit in silence, listening to the tempest rage outside our scant sanctuary. Thunder cracks like the snapping of giant teeth, lightning flashes brief scenes of the tumultuous dance between land and sky. It's in these moments—when the world seems to fracture and roar—that I find a strange solace. Here, with Vee, where words are unnecessary and heartbeats sync, the storm outside mirrors the one raging inside of me. "Thank you," she breathes after a while, her voice nearly lost beneath the bellow of the storm. For what, she doesn't specify, but it's not needed. Our exile has forged a bond that goes beyond gratitude, beyond the simple need for companionship. "Always," I reply, because nothing else needs to be said. We're two wolves cast adrift, finding harbor in each other amidst the maelstrom. And as the rain pours down, relentless and purifying, I feel the stirrings of hope that perhaps, together, we can weather any storm.