LilyLily stared down at the letter, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. There had been something nagging at her, ever since the battle, and at last she understood what it was.Lily,Or I suppose I should refer to you by your proper title. Luna Lily,I always knew you would grow to be a completely insufferable pack leader. We last met at the Great Battle, as it is already being termed – and, really, should we not wait until longer than a few months have passed before we name things with such grandiose titles? – but you did not seem to recognise me. If I were another, I may have been hurt by that. Then again, you never were very good at seeing through my disguises.Therefore, I have decided to be blunt. I have lost everything. My home and my people are gone. I took that Alpha wolf you had a soft spot for, Atticus, to bargain with Blood Moon. To no avail, might I add. He was more irksome than he was useful, so he has been deposited back in his rightful home. The issue is this: I have no
Lily“I won’t do it,” Lily said, glaring at the man opposite her. “I never do, and I never have.”They were almost eye-to-eye as they leant across the table towards one another. The man – her father – sighed, his shoulders slumping. He’d tried.“You know I worry about you. This desire of yours – this urge – it’s not natural for creatures like us. And you’re a warrior, Lils, a Warrior Wolf, destined to fight for your pack. Tying yourself up every month when the moon is full doesn’t sit right with me, and it never has.”Lily straightened up, her long, dark blonde hair brushing across her shoulders and tumbling in soft waves down her back. Her brown eyes hardened, but there was something sad, ancient and aching and longing, that she desperately buried beneath layers of stone as she spoke.
AtticusAs he surveyed the crowd gathered before him, Atticus grinned. It was the night of the full moon at last, and his body thrummed with excited energy. He was proud of the legacy he’d built, and proud that so many wolves were eager to stand by his side each month. There was always another battle to fight, fresh territory to claim, and, in the beginning, he’d feared that they may not respect him the way they had his father.He’d had nothing to worry about, as it turned out. He straightened his back, rolled his shoulders, and then he began to speak.“Blood Moon pack!” He bellowed, clapping his hands and stomping his feet. A cacophony of howls filled the night air, and his grin stretched wider.The moon was hovering above the horizon, its crisp white light piercing the black curve of the sky. Atticus could see th
LilyThe iron chains were heavy, and too tight around her wrists and ankles, but Lily didn’t care. So long as they worked – so long as she couldn’t hurt anyone – she would suffer through endless torment if she had to. The weight of the chains was nothing in comparison to the guilt she’d have to live with if she broke free and tore someone apart. The mere thought of it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She pursed her lips.The cellar smelt musty and damp, and she wrinkled her nose. She was sat in the far corner, her arms clutching her knees and huddling them for warmth. She’d stormed off after her argument with her dad, and, brooding and angry, she’d come straight down to the cellar. Dressed in just jeans and a thin t-shirt, she longed to sprint upstairs and grab a jumper. But the moon was rising rapidly outside, a slice of white light stretching across the floor bef
AtticusThe grounds looked lovely, Atticus thought – if a little overdone for his taste. It was only the Worm Moon, after all.The ornate gardens surrounding the pack house had been bedecked in glossy aquamarine bunting, draped from tree to tree and around the veranda which trailed around the outskirts of the house itself. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he surveyed the flapping sparrows, held in place by a magic he did not understand, nor wish to.Miniscule glass bottles had been filled with thyme, and they had been strung along a stretch of glittering lanterns, the vials clicking against the glowing light bulbs. He stretched his aching back, and rolled his neck. He grinned, slow and smooth, as his joints cracked.Taking White Oak down had been easy – as expected. It was a good confidence builder for the latest group of young wolves that
LilyDawn broke across the horizon, light slanting into Lily’s bedroom and spilling across the wooden floor. She rolled over, slinging an arm across her face to cover her eyes. She didn’t want to wake up – not today.But the light was insistent, and it nudged her awake. She blinked away the sleep from bleary eyes, and sighed as she pulled herself upright. The other wolves all longed for this day – but not Lily. A scowl tugged at her soft mouth, and she crossed her arms across her chest, her duvet pooling at her waist.The bedframe was cool against her back. She focused on it, centring her nerves and brimming emotions on the bite of cold nipping at her skin. Before, she’d had no qualms about celebrating her birthday. But that had been when her mother was there to celebrate it with her. This birthday – her eighteenth – marked the third yea
AtticusThe pull was pleasant, Atticus thought, as he allowed it to tow him out of the pack house and into the ornate gardens fringing the wide veranda. He had his suspicions about what it may be, but he didn’t focus on them. Instead, he let his eyelids droop, keeping them half closed as he navigated his way down the stairs.The uppermost floor of the pack house was home to the Alpha, Luna, and their family. It would belong solely to him once he found his Luna, but his parents would be welcome to stay under his reign. Most wolves, once their heirs had taken their place, chose to live away from the pack house, and moved into something smaller and more private.Atticus had awoken early, intent on replying to a letter sent to him by the Alpha of the Lone Wind pack. Their allies to the south had heard rumours of a new pack forming, one built on ambition and treachery rather than tradition and l
LilyIt was, by far, the worst birthday Lily had ever endured.She tore through the gardens, sprinting on wobbly legs, desperate to put as much distance between herself and her heartbreak as possible. She had loved and loathed Atticus, but she had never thought him capable of such cruelty.The bond was gone. In its wake lay only ruin.She rounded the edge of the gardens, and it was a straight run to the training fields. Her chest ached with budding sobs, but her lungs were too busy pushing air to her pounding muscles to allow any to break free. As long as she kept moving, she was safe. But she didn’t know where to go.Atticus would surely allow her to leave after his rejection. It could not be clearer that he did not want her, that he did not want her soiling his beloved pack. She thought the words with venom, and spat viscously at