Chapter 3 The child under the moon

The forest was silent except for the soft crunch of snow beneath Lyra's boots. Her breath came out in white clouds as she hurried along the narrow path, clutching the pouch of moonleaf to her chest. The trees swayed in the cold wind, their dark branches reaching like claws toward the glowing moon.

Every step she took carried the weight of her secret. Four years. Four long years of running, hiding, and pretending she could forget. But now he had seen her;Damien Nightbane, the Alpha she had once given her heart to, the man whose eyes still haunted her dreams.

She shook her head, trying to push his face from her thoughts. She could not afford to think about him now. Isla needed her.

Finally, the cabin came into view,a small wooden home hidden deep within the pines. Smoke curled from the chimney, and a faint golden light shone from the window. Relief washed through her, warm and aching. She was home.

Lyra slipped inside quickly, shutting the door behind her to keep out the cold. The air smelled of herbs, firewood, and the faint sweetness of warm milk. A little girl sat curled in a chair by the hearth, a blanket draped over her small shoulders. Her golden eyes blinked sleepily up at her mother.

"Mommy," Isla whispered, her voice soft and tired.

Lyra rushed to her side, kneeling and cupping her tiny face. "I'm here, moonbeam. Did you miss me?"

Isla nodded, leaning into her mother's touch. "I couldn't sleep. The dreams came again."

Lyra's heart clenched. Those dreams had been growing stronger,strange, fevered visions that left the child weak by morning. The healer had said it was only a passing moon sickness, common among young wolves. But Lyra knew better. She felt it in her bones. Isla was not like other pups. She carried something inside her, something born of that forbidden night.

"Did you get it?" Isla asked, her eyes dropping to the pouch Lyra held.

"Yes, sweetheart," Lyra said gently, pulling out the fresh moonleaf. "This will help you sleep better tonight."

She moved quickly, brewing a simple tea over the fire. The sharp, earthy scent filled the room as the water darkened. Isla watched her with wide eyes, her small hands resting on her knees.

"Was it dangerous out there?" the little girl asked after a moment.

Lyra paused, her back to her daughter. "A little," she admitted quietly.

"Did anyone see you?"

The question made her stiffen. Children had a way of asking things that cut too close. Slowly, Lyra turned and forced a calm smile. "No one important," she lied.

Isla frowned but didn't press further. She sipped the tea when her mother handed it to her, her face wrinkling at the bitter taste. "Yuck."

Lyra chuckled softly and kissed her forehead. "Good girl. It will make you stronger."

The child leaned against her, eyelids growing heavy. "Mommy... do you think the moon dreams are bad?"

Lyra hesitated, brushing a lock of dark hair from Isla's face. "No, my love. Dreams can't hurt you. They just mean the moon is watching over you."

But in her heart, fear twisted like a blade. The moon did not simply watch. It remembered.

When Isla finally fell asleep, Lyra sat alone by the window, staring out at the silver light washing over the snow. Her hands trembled as she rested them on the wooden sill.

She had sworn never to return here. Never to cross paths with Damien again. The night she fled, she thought she was doing the right thing protecting her child, protecting her heart, maybe even protecting him.

But tonight, all that protection felt as fragile as frost.

She could still feel his touch on her wrist, hear his voice calling her name. There had been anger in his eyes, yes... but there had also been something else. A pull. A recognition.

How long before he discovered the truth?

A sudden sound cut through her thoughts,a branch snapping in the woods.

Lyra's heart lurched. Slowly, she rose and stepped to the door, listening. The forest was quiet, too quiet. The wind had stopped.

She opened the door just a crack. The moonlight poured in, painting the ground silver.

There, leading away from the cabin, were fresh tracks in the snow.

Wolf tracks.

Large. Heavy. Recent.

Her breath caught. She shut the door softly and bolted it, pressing her back against the wood. "Not yet," she whispered to herself. "Please, not yet."

Far beyond the trees, Damien Nightbane stood with his Beta at his side. The forest smelled of cold pine and something else,faint but familiar.

"She passed through here," the Beta said, crouching to examine the tracks. "The scent is fresh."

Damien said nothing for a moment, his dark eyes scanning the distance where a small light flickered faintly.

"She's hiding something," he said at last, his voice low. "I want eyes on her. Day and night. No one approaches without my command."

The Beta nodded. "You still care?"

Damien's jaw tightened. "I care about the truth."

He turned, his cloak sweeping the snow as his wolf stirred restlessly inside him. Four years of silence, and now she was back. The bond had never truly broken.

"She ran once," he murmured under his breath. "She won't run again."