Blood Moon Reckoning

Chapter 9: The Wounded Stranger

The sun was setting over the village, casting a golden hue across the fields and trees that surrounded Estella’s secluded home. Inside the house, Estella busied herself with organizing herbs, preparing ointments, and potions. The quiet hum of the evening was always a comfort to her, the stillness a welcome contrast to the chaos she had once known in the Vesper Pack.

Devon was outside playing in the garden, chasing fireflies as the cool breeze ruffled his dark curls. Estella kept an ear out for him, always alert, always ready to rush to his side. Despite the peace they’d found in this village, she was never truly at ease. Her past haunted her, lurking in the shadows of every corner.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and Devon’s voice, breathless and panicked. “Mama! Mama! Come quick!”

Estella’s heart raced as she rushed out of the house, her apron still tied around her waist. “Devon, what’s wrong?”

He grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the edge of the forest. “There’s a man! He’s hurt really bad, Mama. He’s bleeding. We need to help him!”

Estella’s first instinct was to hesitate. Strangers meant danger. It had been years since she’d allowed anyone new into her life, years since she’d trusted anyone beyond Elena and the villagers. But as Devon pulled her toward the treeline, she caught sight of the figure lying on the ground, half-hidden by the thick brush.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and covered in blood. His clothes were torn, revealing deep gashes across his chest and arms. His breathing was shallow, labored.

Estella’s heart sank. I can’t leave him like this.

She knelt beside him, her fingers brushing against his neck to check for a pulse. It was weak but steady. “Devon, go inside and get the first aid kit. Quickly!”

Devon nodded and sprinted back to the house, leaving Estella alone with the wounded stranger. As she examined his injuries, she realized they were worse than she’d initially thought. The cuts were deep, almost as if they’d been made by claws. She had seen wounds like this before - these were werewolf wounds. And from the looks of it, they were powerful werewolves, not ordinary ones.

Her pulse quickened as a sense of foreboding settled over her. Who was this man? And what had happened to him?

Devon returned moments later, panting as he handed her the kit. “Here, Mama.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Estella murmured, her mind already working through the herbs and medicines she would need to treat his wounds. She quickly applied pressure to the worst of the injuries, her hands moving swiftly and expertly as she worked to stabilize him.

“Will he be okay?” Devon asked, his wide, innocent eyes filled with concern.

“I don’t know,” Estella replied honestly, glancing at the man’s pale face. “But I’ll do everything I can.”

As the night wore on, Estella’s frustration grew. She had used all the potions and salves she knew to treat his wounds, but nothing seemed to be working. His condition remained the same - his skin cold and clammy, his breath shallow. She was losing him.

“I don’t understand,” she muttered under her breath, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Why isn’t it working?”

Devon had been watching her silently from the corner of the room, his little face scrunched in thought. After a long pause, he stood up and walked over to the medicine drawer in the far corner of the room. He opened it and rummaged through the bottles, his small hands working with a purpose.

“Devon, what are you doing?” Estella asked, momentarily distracted by the man’s worsening condition.

Devon pulled out a small, dusty vial, holding it up to the light. The liquid inside was a deep, almost iridescent color. “Mama, use this.”

Estella’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized the bottle. She hadn’t seen it in years and had almost forgotten it existed. It was the medicine she had created for that strange man who had come to her 5 years ago. He had promised to return for it in a month, but he never did. The medicine had remained hidden in the back of her drawer ever since.

“Where did you find that?” Estella asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Devon shrugged. “I saw it when Grandma Elena asked me to help her get some medicine a while ago. I thought maybe it could help him.”

Estella hesitated, her eyes darting between the vial and the stranger lying unconscious on the bed. She had tried everything else, and nothing had worked. This was her last option.

Taking a deep breath, she uncorked the vial and carefully poured a few drops of the liquid into the man’s mouth. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, his breathing steadied. The color began to return to his face, the deep gashes on his body knitting together before her eyes.

Estella stared in disbelief as the man’s condition improved, the medicine working its strange, powerful magic. She had never seen anything like it.

Devon beamed up at her. “I knew it would work, Mama!”

Estella smiled down at her son, though her mind was racing. ‘Who was this man, and why did that medicine work on him?’ What’s his relationship to that man 5 years ago?’ There were too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

As the stranger’s wounds healed, Estella gently wiped the sweat from his brow. His breathing had returned to normal, but he remained unconscious. She couldn’t help but wonder if saving him had been the right choice. If he was dangerous, if he was connected to the Vesper Pack or someone worse, she could just have put herself and Devon in unimaginable danger.

Hours passed, and as the first rays of dawn filtered through the windows, the stranger finally stirred. His eyes fluttered open, dark and intense, scanning the room with the sharp awareness of someone who was no ordinary man.

Estella took a step back, her heart racing. “You’re awake.”

The man blinked a few times, his brow furrowing as he tried to sit up. Pain flickered across his face, and he winced, but he managed to prop himself up on his elbows. His gaze locked onto Estella, sharp and assessing.

“Where am I?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“You’re in my home,” Estella replied, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “I found you near the forest. You were badly wounded. I… I healed you.”

The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in her words. “Who are you?”

Estella hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “My name is Estella. This is my son, Devon. We live here… quietly.”

The man’s gaze flicked to Devon, who was standing by the door, watching with wide eyes. A moment passed before the stranger spoke again.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

Estella nodded, but her wariness didn’t dissipate. “Who are you? What happened to you?”

The man hesitated, his dark eyes clouding with something unreadable. “My name is Ariston. I was… attacked. By rogues.”

“Rogues?” Estella’s heart skipped a beat. Rogue werewolves were dangerous and feral. But something about Ariston’s tone told her there was more to the story.

“Yes,” Ariston replied, his voice low. “I wasn’t expecting to survive the night, but it seems I have you to thank for that.”

Estella’s eyes narrowed. She could sense he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, but she didn’t press him further. “Rest now. You’re still healing.”

Ariston leaned back against the pillows, his expression thoughtful as he watched her move around the room. Estella could feel his eyes on her, and it made her uneasy. There was something about him, something dangerous that lurked just beneath the surface. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their fates were now intertwined.

As she turned to leave the room, she caught a glimpse of the tattoo on Ariston’s back- a b****y rose etched into his skin.

Her breath caught in her throat. The b****y rose… The same tattoo as the man from the video. The man from her past.

Who exactly was Ariston?