The White Wolf Walks Alone

Synopsis

On the day of the Blood Oath, the entire pack gathered at Moonstone Hall for a portrait. My name wasn't on the fitting list for the ceremonial robes. Isolde Vance smiled and explained, "Luna can't shift, so she'd stick out way too much in the wolf lineup." Alpha Dorian Kade grunted in agreement. Later that afternoon, Isolde came to me again. She said the ceremony was missing a key ingredient, wolfsbane, which only grew high up on the snowline. "Only if Luna picks it herself will the Moon Goddess accept it," she said. I trudged for most of the night, snow soaking right through my boots. My wolf was sleeping, so I couldn't get a scrap of warmth from her. I called out to Dorian over the mind-link. There was no answer the first time. The same was true of the second. And the third time, the connection was abruptly severed from the other side. By the time I made it back to Moonstone Hall, clutching a handful of frozen wolfsbane, the portrait was already done. The whole pack was there, dressed in silver-gray ceremonial robes, and crowded close together. Dorian stood right in the center. Isolde was at his right side. That was Luna's place, the spot that should've been mine. The portrait was soon posted on the Pack Bulletin Board. The caption read: [Tonight's moonlight belongs to the one most worthy.] Someone commented: [Where's Luna?] Isolde replied: [Luna's not great with the cold. She's better off staying inside.] I stood in the snow, the wolfsbane in my hand still dripping. The wind carried the scent to me. It was Dorian's scent—cedar, rust, and fire. But this time, there was someone else's sweet scent mixed in. It was so thick that it felt like it had been blended right into his. I lowered my head. Two sets of footprints stretched across the snow, running side by side, all the way to the back door of the main house. One set belonged to Dorian. The owner of the other set stood front and center in the council hall the next morning. My name wasn't on the fitting list for the ceremonial robes. Isolde Vance smiled and explained, "Luna can't shift, so she'd stick out way too much in the wolf lineup." Alpha Dorian Kade grunted in agreement. Later that afternoon, Isolde came to me again. She said the ceremony was missing a key ingredient, wolfsbane, which only grew high up on the snowline. "Only if Luna picks it herself will the Moon Goddess accept it," she said. I trudged for most of the night, snow soaking right through my boots. My wolf was sleeping, so I couldn't get a scrap of warmth from her. I called out to Dorian over the mind-link. There was no answer the first time. The same was true of the second. And the third time, the connection was abruptly severed from the other side. By the time I made it back to Moonstone Hall, clutching a handful of frozen wolfsbane, the portrait was already done. The whole pack was there, dressed in silver-gray ceremonial robes, and crowded close together. Dorian stood right in the center. Isolde was at his right side. That was Luna's place, the spot that should've been mine. The portrait was soon posted on the Pack Bulletin Board. The caption read: [Tonight's moonlight belongs to the one most worthy.] Someone commented: [Where's Luna?] Isolde replied: [Luna's not great with the cold. She's better off staying inside.] I stood in the snow, the wolfsbane in my hand still dripping. The wind carried the scent to me. It was Dorian's scent—cedar, rust, and fire. But this time, there was someone else's sweet scent mixed in. It was so thick that it felt like it had been blended right into his. I lowered my head. Two sets of footprints stretched across the snow, running side by side, all the way to the back door of the main house. One set belonged to Dorian. The owner of the other set stood front and center in the council hall the next morning.