Under the heavy canopy of trees, the shadows stretched to greet each other, muffling the effects of the sunrise. High above, small patches of light struggled to penetrate the mass of leaves; the branches folding together in an elaborate tapestry of green, hiding all but glimpses of the rapidly lightening sky from view.

Instead of following her companions down to the village, Evelyn veered onto a little used game trail running deeper into the forest. The rough woven basket at her side already bulged with wild garlic, chickweed, and a handful of early morels she'd coaxed from their hiding place under an ash tree. But now she craved the satisfaction only meat could provide. Her wolf, Sephrenia, had been itching to stretch her legs since the previous dawn.

Away from prying eyes, she relieved herself of her dress; the cool morning air raising the hairs on her bare skin and sending a pleasant shiver through her muscles. Taking her time, she folded the rough cloth neatly and placed it in the tight hollow of a nearby walnut tree for safe keeping; she didn't own enough dresses to risk ruining one.

Then, she shifted. The crack and snap of her bones reforming echoed a hundred dry tree branches all shattering at once; a sound that paled in comparison to the wet tearing of her changing muscle structure. Six years of constant shifting back and forth, and Evelyn still wished she could somehow mute her hearing during the, quite frankly, icky process.

It wouldn't be so bad if you didn't concentrate on it so much, Sephrenia reminded her, amusement rippling through their shared consciousness.

What else am I supposed to concentrate on? Evelyn grumbled, gingerly testing each of her four legs to make sure everything had ended up where it was supposed to be.

The sound of the wind, the smell of the forest, the feel of the earth beneath your paws.

Easier said than done. Evelyn raised her muzzle to sniff at the riot of scents wafting towards her from every tree, bush, and hollow. Want to run?

She handed over control, and her wolf took off, weaving expertly between the trees, revelling in her ability to stretch out her legs and exercise her muscles. They flew through the forest, leaving the training grounds and village far behind, relishing the freedom four paws could give them.

Once the first rush of adrenaline passed, they slowed to an easy lope, listening in on the calling of birds preparing their nests. The rustle of leaves caught the breeze as it flowed across the top of the canopy; the only other sound to disturb the serenity of the untouched forest. Even within the safety of their own territory though, it was wise to remain alert for danger – Evelyn had seen the consequences of overly confident inattentiveness too many times – and even while enjoying their run, she kept all her senses attuned to their surroundings.

She finally halted on the edge of a ridge lined with juvenile trees and mossy boulders, hovering on a patch of earth worn bare from frequent visits. Down below, just as the scree stopped short, the pack border taunted them both.

No human would ever notice the invisible line that ran the perimeter of their territory. For the wolves, it shimmered like the haze on a hot summer's day; a riot of familiar scents reinforced by years and years of marking. Unlike most borders, however, the haze at the edge of the Cyan pack was tinged with subtle tones of murky, insidious green.

She ignored it, her eyes instead grazing the wild forest beyond with a wistful air.

Don't get too close.

I won't. She calmed her wolf by placing her rump firmly on the forest floor. Don't worry.

Someone has to, Sephrenia murmured. They sat in silence, the seconds ticking by. There, you've seen it. Let's go back.

In a moment. As the morning sun continued its climb, the horizon lit up in a riot of fresh spring greens. What do you think it’s like out there? A world without boundaries. No curses, no war, no hunger. Evelyn sighed. Pure freedom. How far could we run?

It doesn't matter, Sephrenia answered as she had many mornings before. You'll never see it unless you grow tired of me or the war –

Is won, Evelyn finished. I know.

Then don't you get tired of these questions? Sephrenia asked pragmatically.

No one from their pack had ever made it further than Briars ridge; an area of the forest still showing no evidence of settlements. The pain of crossing the border intolerable, their wolves incapacitated. They were always forced to retreat to the relative safety of their territory... their prison for the last one hundred and eighty years. The Raven's Curse.

The land beyond the border appeared free from any life at all, human or wolf. She had endured the pain of crossing many times since her first shift, and all she'd found was blood and death. Except for the witches, of course. Evelyn knew they were out there.

I have to ask, Sephrenia. There has to be something after this war. Otherwise, what's the –

Do you want him? Sephrenia interrupted, bored with her human's yearnings.

Evelyn didn't answer. Her wolf was already well aware that she did. The flare of attraction she felt every time Michael was in close proximity flowed through them both equally. The truth, if she chose to admit it to herself, was that had Michael been a normal wolf, she would have had no hesitation accepting him.

Sephrenia twitched her ears.

But he was Alpha to be, and his mate would rule by his side as the next Luna. The very thought of taking on that vast responsibility left Evelyn trembling with anxiety, especially when her new status as Luna would trap her within these borders for the rest of her life. War or no war.

She wasn't sure why his announcement had surprised her so much. The pack had been anticipating his rise to Alpha for some months now, and choosing a Luna was the final step to seal his claim. His grandfather, Alpha Cain, had guided them through decades of hardship; Evelyn doubted they would have survived the long years without his wisdom and fierce determination.

The Cyan wolves looked up to their Alphas with admiration verging on worship; and Michael would be no exception. Broad shouldered, tall, and ruggedly handsome in a permanently dishevelled sort of way; he had lingered in Evelyn's thoughts for years.

And it wasn't as if he hadn't made his intentions clear, either. His attraction to her was more than obvious. He didn't treat her like an inferior either. Michael had approached Evelyn multiple times over the winter to discuss his plans for raids, defences, and counter measures against the increasingly persistent witches. Her participation was always welcomed, even encouraged.

So, why are you resisting so hard?

Evelyn hesitated. He didn't even talk to us first, she grumbled. He just announced it like it was already decided.

He probably assumed it was, Sephrenia murmured passively. He's been hinting at it for months.

Perhaps, but hinting is not asking, is it? Even as she spoke the words, Evelyn could feel her wolf's exasperated amusement. She flushed, knowing how childish her protest sounded.

He's handsome, Sephrenia ventured again.

He is. Her body betrayed her every time they were in close proximity. Every touch sent shivers running across her skin. Every burning look left her breathless. One afternoon, he'd brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, and only sheer willpower had maintained her ability not to fall right into his embrace.

And he's a skilled warrior, Sephrenia pressed.

He'll be a good Alpha, Evelyn agreed, wishing her wolf would let it drop.

He'll be a good mate, Sephrenia persisted. She actually sounded mildly irritated. The two of you were close long before I came along.

I... admire him, she admitted.

Sephrenia snorted. You've loved him since the day he saved you from drowning in the river. How old were you? Five?

Six, Evelyn murmured. And I would have made it back to the shore just fine on my own... eventually.

“Evie? Where are you?” The voice of her Beta rose through the fog of the pack link, saving her from any further discussion.

Damn, what time is it? She couldn't have been gone that long, could she?

Long enough, her wolf muttered. I told you we should have gone back.

“I'm sorry, Derek,” Evelyn reached out. “I lost track of time.”

“Please tell me you're not near the border.” A tinge of exasperation filtered through.

Okay, she wouldn't tell him that. “I was gathering supplies near the river - technically not a lie - I didn't stray far.”

“Well, come back to the village. The Alpha’s called a meeting.”

“I'm on my way.”

Sephrenia huffed in displeasure at her deception. Do you know how much trouble we'd be in if we encountered a witch, and the pack had no idea where we're really were?

Do you know how much trouble we'd be in if Derek found out we were still coming here every day? Evelyn countered.

She took one last look at the horizon, then allowed her gaze to travel the length of the border as far as she could see. I wonder if Pip came this way? She hadn't seen him at the celebration last night.

We won't see Pip out here... Sephrenia tensed. I hope.

I know, I know, Evelyn sighed. I worry too much. He's not likely to wander this close to the border. Not after last time.

Sephrenia didn't reply, but Evelyn could feel the concern emanating from her as they left the sunrise behind – apparently, she wasn't confident he wouldn't head that way regardless. On swift paws, they headed back to the village where forty-eight wolves waited with baited breath for her decision.

By the time they'd slowed, their paws leading them steadily back towards the game trail; Evelyn’s thoughts had returned to more practical matters... like their next meal. Fortuitously, a soft rustle alerted her to something small moving through the undergrowth nearby, and she froze. Her nose twitched as she caught the faint scent of an unlucky rabbit.

Yours, or mine? Sephrenia asked eagerly.

You'd better do it. Evelyn could fight from dusk until dawn with little effort, but hunting was a skill she was yet to master. She relinquished control once again.

When she arrived on the outskirts of the village – once again in human form and carrying a basket slightly fuller than it had been when she left it – the familiar sounds of a pack well into its morning routine greeted her.

As soon as they spotted her, the children descended. Laughing and squealing, they tugged at the hem of her dress and attempted to peer into her basket, eager hands held out in anticipation of the treats they knew Evelyn had hidden about her.

Today, she'd been lucky enough to find a cluster of early raspberries just ripe for picking, and her hand dipped into the basket to pull out handfuls of the sweet, red berries. They were gone as fast as she could produce them, and she smiled to see them savour the treats, especially as most would still have empty bellies that morning.

“Alright, alright, that's your lot,” she chuckled as the last berry disappeared behind rosy cheeks.

“What else is in the basket?” a tiny chestnut- haired little girl chirruped.

“Mushrooms, and supplies for the pantry,” Evelyn said, showing them some of her prizes.

“I wish I could go foraging,” a dark-haired young lad grumbled, the berries hardly enough to wet his growing appetite. “But mother says I cannot stray that far from the village.”

Evelyn eyed him carefully. He was tall for his age, approaching twelve and hovering on the very edge of childhood. He didn't have his wolf yet – most gained them shortly after their sixteenth birthdays – but he was already being trained by the masters just as she and the older wolves were.

“You know, there's good foraging to be found just outside the village boundaries if you know what to look for?” she suggested. The children gathered around her, always eager to discover new sources of food.

“Like what?”

The young lad reminded her so much of her brother at that age, her heart ached. “Wild strawberries grow near the pastures in the summer. You can find chestnuts, barberries, and damsons just south of the pack house in autumn, but right now...” She thought a moment, searching through her vast knowledge for something easy to find and safe to forage. “If you go down to the creek, there should be some wild carrots growing along the banks, and if you're lucky, some of the blueberry bushes might have started to produce fruit.”

The children whooped, cheered, and scattered in all directions, seeking out whichever adult they could find to ask permission to go on their miniature foraging adventure. With any luck, they'd eat more than one meal today.

As she straightened up, Evelyn spotted the Beta by the entrance to the pack house, watching her intently. She lowered her head in a gesture of respect, and he offered a short, sharp nod of acknowledgement in return. He'd kept a closer eye on her in recent weeks, probably in anticipation of her potential status change, but she really did hope he wouldn't attempt to stop her going on her runs altogether. It was the one time of the day she could be truly alone with her thoughts.

The trainees had gathered, as they always did, by the pack kitchen knowing they would be served whatever leftovers could be spared from the previous days meals. Evelyn rarely joined them, preferring to fend for herself most days rather than strain the already thin pantry.

“Where're our berries?” one of them called over to her jovially.

“You know where the forest is,” she called back lightly. All the wolves were taught the basics of foraging. It took contributions from everyone in the pack to keep them all going. But it was well known Evelyn possessed a particular knack for seeking out food in places others never thought to look, and as a result often contributed more to the communal pantry than anyone else, especially in the lean winter and spring months.

One member of the group, his arm in a temporary splint, looked less than pleased to see her – the largest of the trainees who'd managed to break his arm on the Pell in a spectacular feat of over confidence. The boy scowled as she sauntered past. She chuckled under her breath. Despite every wolf being considered equally important to the war effort, the males still carried with them fragile egos, and most disliked being outshined by their female counterparts. Evelyn always took great satisfaction in mastering the lessons first.

You didn't exactly master it, Sephrenia said critically. You simply managed to walk away without breaking anything.

I did better than him, didn't I? Evelyn countered, feeling his eyes burning into her neck as she continued across the square.

Her home sat furthest from the main square, the curve of the rough path taking it out of view of both the pack house and the majority of the other buildings within the village.

The stone walls piled themselves together as though thrown casually towards the foundation and left to lay wherever they landed. The thatch of the roof was forever in need of repair, and the wooden beams hosted more than one family of wood-boring beetles. The squat little cottage had carried a haphazard air about it for as long as Evelyn could remember.

Still, with every stone soaked in the memories of her family, Evelyn refused to even consider moving to the pack house where the wolves often slept in a large pile near the fire, enjoying the benefits of each other's body warmth.

She lay her prize carefully in a large pan; a rabbit. Fat, plump, and the best hunt she'd had all week. She’d skinned and gutted it out in the forest, careful to save the liver and kidneys for the pack doctor and now she surrounded it with chunks of a wild onion she'd found during her foraging, the last of the winter swede and plenty of herbs.

Lastly, she placed five tiny potatoes on her chopping board and admired them. They were the first from her early crop, and though small, still bigger than the ones she'd grown last year. She was getting better. They'd go nicely with the rabbit, and the extra carbs would do both of them some good.

Anything but pottage, her wolf muttered.

That pottage kept us alive all winter, Evelyn reminded Sephrenia. And I don't remember hearing any complaints when it was our only option.

Her hand absentmindedly reached for the peel to throw it into the bucket for pigswill. But an intruding memory forced her to stay her hand and look at them again.

"What are you doing wasting good food?" The voice of her grandmother drifted across the years towards her, full of indignation. The old woman reached out to rescue the flaccid bits of peel, her face wrinkled with disapproval. "Use your sense, girl. Dry them out, lay them on a tray, and bake them over the ashes with some herbs."

Evelyn grimaced; hating contemplating using the scraps as a meal, but her grandmother was, as always, right. Tomorrow, her hunt may not be successful. Tomorrow, the pack larder may still be sparse. They might be grateful for the chips she could make from the peel. Still, she hesitated.

"Throwing away good food,” her grandmother's voice rose again. "What would your mother think?"

From what little she remembered of her, Evelyn's mother would have said 'thank you', and encouraged her daughter to slip out the back door to feed the peel to the pig before anyone realised it had gone. She hadn't been a fan of frugal cooking either.

But that was back when there were enough pigs for each family to raise at least one, and meat was far easier to come by. Now, all scraps went to the communal pigs, the last to survive the sickness, and the meat would be divided equally between the pack come slaughter.

Evelyn sighed and reluctantly gathered the peel into a clean cloth, pressing down to remove as much water as she could and setting them aside to bake later.

Perhaps the litters will be successful this year? Her wolf suggested. Almost all the females are pregnant.

Yes. But whether they'd produce enough young to even replace those they'd eat was another matter. Perhaps she agreed mildly. Or perhaps the war will finally be won and we can leave this place for good. She sighed. I only wish I were better at gardening.

Her father had been green fingered. Their small vegetable patch had almost always had something ready to harvest, even through the winter... but Evelyn had preferred to concentrate on her training, convinced in her youthful naivety that she'd never need to learn how to scramble in the dirt.

She glanced out of the window. It was close to noon. “Pip's late again,” she muttered to herself.

Sephrenia fell silent, distracted from her distaste for pottage, and Evelyn could feel her renewed concern. Their little brother had always been a wanderer, a habit that had worsened after their  father had passed, but he usually miraculously turned up for whatever meal Evelyn managed to put together.

Evelyn, don't you think – her wolf began, then her ears flicked forward. We have company.

She caught his scent a second after her wolf. Fresh rain and warm oak wood, a scent that made her heart skip, and her lips part involuntarily – her cheeks warmed as she realised how much she yearned for his company.

“Michael,” she greeted her visitor with a small bow of her head; a subtle sign of respect that gave her just enough time to compose herself, not easy when her wolf was wagging her metaphorical tail with the easy abandon of a puppy greeting its master.

“Evie.” His easy smile lit up the room like the sun breaking through storm clouds, and he propped his six-foot frame against her table as though he’d always belonged there. “You left the celebrations early last night.” His expression was only faintly quizzical, but she caught a hint vulnerability in his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she ventured carefully. “I'm not used to being so nocturnal anymore.” She'd been desperate to escape all expectant faces. “It was all a bit...” She wanted to say ‘overwhelming’ but couldn't force the word to come out.

His face fell slightly, the smile faltering as he registered her hesitation. Sephrenia whimpered, and Evelyn had a sudden and overwhelming urge to find a way to undo any hurt she'd unintentionally inflicted.

“You didn't ask,” she found herself blurting out, deciding honesty was the only way forward.

“What?”

“You never asked me. You called for the pack's approval, but not mine.” The realisation still stung.

He blinked, surprise replacing the hurt. “So, you do believe in me then?”

It was Evelyn's turn to be surprised. Why would he think she didn't believe in him? “I've always believed in you, Michael. It's myself that I'm less sure of.”

His face relaxed, a tentative smile returning. “I thought... Evelyn, I would not have chosen you if I didn't believe you were the best choice for this pack,” he attempted to reassure her. “And I'm sorry. You're right, of course. I should have asked you before announcing it so abruptly.” He reached for both her hands and stared at her in earnest. “Let me try again. Will you do me the honour of becoming my mate?”

She stared at him for the longest time, struggling to repress her excited wolf. “Michael,” she started carefully, unsure how to voice her uncertainty without hurting him further. “I...”

Distant shouts broke the tense moment, and the pack link erupted with a barrage of voices that made them both flinch. One voice rose above the rest with an urgent warning: “Witches in Cyan territory! They’re headed for the creek!”

The creek? Evelyn paled. Oh, Goddess. “Michael... The children."