Rise Of The Stormhowl Luna

The pine trees whispered secrets in the midnight wind, their ancient branches swaying like ghostly fingers against the star-filled sky. Snow crunched beneath heavy boots as a lone figure stumbled through the frozen forest, each step leaving crimson drops on the pristine white ground.

Morgana Stormhowl pressed her hand against the deep gash across her ribs, feeling the warm blood seep through her torn coat. Her breath came in ragged puffs of white vapor, and her legs trembled with exhaustion. Nine years. Nine long years since she'd walked these familiar paths, since she'd breathed the crisp mountain air of her homeland.

The scent hit her first-that distinctive mixture of pine, stone, and something wilder that marked Night Walker territory. Her wolf stirred restlessly beneath her skin, recognizing home even after all this time. But home hadn't wanted her then, and she doubted it would want her now.

Through the trees, she glimpsed the warm glow of firelight. The pack's main settlement sprawled across a natural clearing, wooden cabins and stone buildings clustered around a central lodge like cubs seeking warmth from their mother. Her heart clenched at the sight. How many nights had she dreamed of this place during her exile?

Her knees buckled, and she caught herself against a massive oak tree, its bark rough beneath her palm. The wound was worse than she'd thought. Much worse. The Iron Claw bastards had nearly gutted her before she'd managed to escape their ambush in the Eastern European mountains.

Keep moving, she told herself. Just a little further.

But her body had other plans. The world tilted sideways, snow rushing up to meet her as consciousness slipped away like water through her fingers.

Dolph Wolfsbane sat by the fire in his private study, amber whiskey untouched in the glass beside him. The flames danced hypnotically in the stone hearth, but his mind was elsewhere-lost in memories he'd spent nine years trying to forget.

A knock at his door made him look up. "Enter."

Jahn, his beta, stepped inside with that particular expression that meant trouble. "Alpha, the border patrol found something. Someone, actually."

Dolph's wolf perked up instantly. "Intruder?"

"Not exactly." Jahn shifted uncomfortably. "It's... you need to see for yourself."

The alpha was already on his feet, following his second-in-command into the cold night air. Other pack members had gathered in a loose circle around something-or someone-lying motionless in the snow near the settlement's edge.

Dolph pushed through the crowd, and his world stopped.

Even unconscious, even bloodied and battered, he would recognize that face anywhere. The sharp cheekbones, the full lips, the wild dark hair now matted with snow and blood. Nine years melted away in an instant, leaving him standing over the broken form of the woman he'd exiled from his pack.

"Morgana," he whispered, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips.

She looked smaller than he remembered, more fragile. But even unconscious, there was something different about her-a strength that radiated from her still form, as if the years of hardship had forged her into something harder, more dangerous.

"Get Runa," he commanded, his voice rough with emotion he couldn't quite hide. "Now."

As pack members scattered to fetch their healer, Dolph knelt beside Morgana in the snow. Her skin was pale, too pale, and her breathing came in shallow gasps. Carefully, he brushed snow from her face, his fingers trembling slightly at the contact.

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused but unmistakably green as spring grass. For a moment, they stared at each other in silence-the alpha who had cast her out and the exile who had somehow found her way home.

"Dolph?" Her voice was barely a whisper, cracked and broken.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Up close, he could see new scars on her face, small ones that spoke of violence and survival. What had happened to her out there? What had driven her back to the place that had rejected her?

"I'm dying," she said matter-of-factly, as if commenting on the weather.

"No." The word came out fiercer than he'd intended. "No, you're not. Runa's coming. You're going to be fine."

A bitter smile curved her lips. "Still giving orders, I see."

"Morgana-"

"Why?" she interrupted, her green eyes blazing despite her weakness. "Why did you throw me away like garbage? What did I do that was so terrible you couldn't even-"

Her words were cut off by a violent coughing fit that brought up blood. Dolph's wolf howled in distress, the sound echoing in his chest even though he kept it silent.

"Don't talk," he said, gently lifting her into his arms. She weighed almost nothing, all sharp angles and barely contained energy. "Save your strength."

As he carried her toward the healer's cabin, Morgana's head fell against his shoulder. For just a moment, she felt like coming home. Like the missing piece of himself he'd thought was lost forever.

But he'd made his choice nine years ago. He'd had his reasons-good reasons. She'd been wild, unpredictable, dangerous to herself and others. Exile had been for her own good, for the pack's safety.

So why did holding her now feel like the most natural thing in the world?

Runa's healing cabin was warm and filled with the scent of medicinal herbs. The elderly woman took one look at Morgana and immediately began barking orders, sending younger pack members scurrying for supplies.

"How long has she been bleeding?" Runa asked as she cut away Morgana's torn clothing to examine the wounds.

"We found her maybe twenty minutes ago," Jahn reported from where he stood by the door.

Runa clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "These are claw marks. Deep ones. Whatever did this was trying to kill her." She looked up at Dolph with knowing eyes. "The question is, who wants Morgana Stormhowl dead badly enough to nearly succeed?"

Dolph's jaw clenched. Stormhowl. He'd almost forgotten that was her family name, forgotten the old stories about that bloodline. Almost.

"Can you save her?" he asked.

"Maybe. But Alpha..." Runa paused in her work, studying Morgana's pale face. "There's something strange here. These wounds should have killed her hours ago, but look-they're already beginning to heal. Slowly, but healing nonetheless."

Dolph frowned. Accelerated healing wasn't uncommon among their kind, but not to this degree. Not when someone was this close to death.

"There's something else," Runa continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Look at her shoulder."

She gently turned Morgana onto her side, revealing a birthmark Dolph had somehow never noticed before-or maybe it had never been there. It was shaped like a crescent moon surrounded by stars, and as they watched, it seemed to shimmer with its own inner light.

"That's impossible," Jahn breathed from behind them.