Chapter 4 Moonlight and Instinct

Sleep was out of the question.

Abby tossed and turned on the too-soft mattress, the thin cabin sheets tangled around her legs. Her body thrummed with restless energy, every nerve awake and crackling. The cool night air drifting in through the open window wasn't enough to soothe her; it only seemed to sharpen her senses further.

Finally, close to midnight, she gave up.

She pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, laced her hiking boots, and stepped out onto the porch. The world was bathed in silver light, the moon full and fat in the velvet sky. Somewhere deep in the woods, a chorus of unseen wolves howled again, long and low.

This time, Abby didn't shiver.

This time, she answered the pull in her blood.

Without a clear plan, she set off toward the tree line, moving lightly across the gravel paths and into the forest beyond. Her feet found the trail easily, even in the dark, and the trees parted before her like old friends.

Everything smelled different now - richer, sharper. Pine sap and damp earth, the faint musk of animals bedding down for the night. It was intoxicating.

She should have been afraid. Alone, in an unfamiliar wilderness, following a call she didn't understand. But fear seemed distant, irrelevant.

Instinct had taken over.

And instinct whispered: Move. Find. Become.

The deeper Abby went, the louder her heartbeat became, pounding in time with the rhythm of her steps. She moved faster, leaping over fallen logs, ducking low branches, her body responding with a fluidity she hadn't known it possessed.

The world narrowed to sensation:

Cool wind against her skin.

Rough bark under her fingertips.

The damp give of moss underfoot.

She didn't know how long she ran before the trail opened into a wide clearing, bathed in the bright glow of the moon. Breathless but exhilarated, she slowed to a stop in the center.

Then she realized she wasn't alone.

Across the clearing, five figures stood in a loose semicircle. They were barefoot, dressed in simple clothes - T-shirts, leggings, loose tunics - but there was nothing casual about the way they watched her. Their eyes gleamed, catching the moonlight, and Abby felt the weight of their attention settle over her like a heavy cloak.

The tallest among them, a woman with a waterfall of black curls and arms corded with lean muscle, stepped forward.

"First night?" she asked, voice low and rough-edged.

Abby swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "First... what?"

The woman smiled, a flash of white teeth. Not unfriendly. Not safe, either.

"The first night the real you wakes up."

Behind her, one of the others - a wiry man with a jagged scar across his throat - gave a soft, growling laugh.

Abby's pulse hammered, but not in fear.

Recognition.

Something inside her - something ancient and wild - stirred, stretching, yawning awake after a long, unnatural sleep.

"You're one of us now," the woman said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Or you will be. If you survive the change."

Abby stared at them, at the raw strength radiating from their bodies, at the ease with which they held themselves - not like humans, not like prey animals, but like predators utterly at home in their skin.

And in the deepest part of herself, something answered:

Yes.

The woman extended a hand.

"Come with us."

For a long moment, Abby hesitated on the threshold between the life she knew - and the life calling to her.

Then she crossed the clearing and took the woman's hand.