Luna Greyfoot's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The winged wolf sprang. Luna dove aside, and its claws raked the altar stone. She rolled and came up in a crouch. The creature turned, wings snapping open, two tails whipping the air. Its bite could twist her into something else. She would not let it touch her. She snatched a broken branch from the snow and swung. The wood cracked across its ribs. The beast yelped and fled into the trees. Luna did not chase it. Her thumb still bled. She ran north, following the ridge the altar had shown her. Snow slowed her legs, but hope pushed her on. Her pack was near. She could feel it. By dusk she found the cave. Its mouth was wide and dark, framed by weathered stone and clumps of dead moss. She knew this place. Her breath caught. This was her pack's den. She had slept here as a pup, warm against her mother's side. She stumbled inside, calling their names. No one answered. The fire pit held cold ash. Old bedding lay scattered and stiff. She pressed her nose to a fur and smelled only rot. Deep in the shadows, her boot struck something hard. She knelt. Bones. A ribcage, picked clean. Then another. She counted them in the dark, and each set she named. Her mother. Her brothers. The whole pack, dead here where they had lived. But the altar had pointed north. The altar had said they lived. Her hands shook. Then she understood. The blood did not lie about direction. It lied about time, or she had read it wrong. Whatever had killed them, it had come and gone. Among the bones something glinted. She dug it free. An amulet on a leather cord, a snarling wolf carved in silver, its center glowing faint green. She knew it. Her mother had worn it every day. Luna closed her fist around the metal. It was warm, though the cave was cold. She sank to the stone floor and did not move for a long time. Nine days she had run toward this. She was the last of the Greyfoot pack. There was no home left to reach. When she finally lifted her head, she slipped the cord over her neck. The amulet settled against her chest. She felt a pull inside it, something alive and hungry, as if it wanted her to stand. Outside, a growl rolled through the trees. The winged wolf had followed her scent. It knew she was alone now. Luna rose. Her family was gone, but their killer still moved through this forest. She wrapped her fingers around the branch and turned to the mouth of the cave. She had a new hunt to begin.