Chapter 4

4

Kane

I feel the full moon's pull through my workshop walls, my mind drifting to past hunts with my pack. I shut down my workshop, put away my tools, clean up, and turn off the lights. Stripping out of my clothes, I prepare for patrol. The weather alarm blares into the night, warning humans of the coming storm.

Stepping out naked, I immediately shift into my wolf form, giving my wolf control. He sniffs the cool air, digging his claws into the ground, readying his legs, then darts into the forest at full speed. The crisp night air fuels our desire to run. Even at this speed, his vision is clear, and he maneuvers through the forest easily.

My wolf pauses, hearing a small herd of deer nearby. His senses awaken, eager for the hunt. He lowers his snout, follows their scent trail, and takes off, picking up speed. The scent grows stronger, mixing with the fresh smell of falling snow. His paws pound the frozen ground, each stride powerful and deliberate. The forest rushes by in a blur. Snowflakes cling to his fur, but he shakes them off, focusing on the drumming hooves ahead.

We reach the top of a small rise and see them: a dozen deer, their muscles rippling under thick winter coats, eyes wide with fear. They notice us and sprint, hooves skimming the ground. But we’re faster, built for the hunt. My wolf angles left, cutting into their path, forcing them toward denser trees. The deer scatter, but we target a young buck, slower, perhaps weakened by winter. His heart pounds, a primal rhythm driving us forward.

The buck leaps over a fallen log. My wolf follows, muscles coiled and ready. The forest closes in, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. Snowflakes thicken the air, but his eyes stay locked on our prey. We can almost taste victory.

He pushes harder, breath coming in rapid puffs of steam. The buck glances back, eyes wide with terror. That split-second hesitation is all we need. My wolf launches forward, jaws snapping shut around its hind leg. The buck stumbles, a strangled cry escaping its throat, and we tumble to the ground in a flurry of snow.

My wolf pins the buck down, his teeth sinking into its neck. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. The struggle is brief. Life drains from its body, and soon it lies still. The forest falls silent once more. We stand over our kill, chest heaving, snowflakes melting on his fur.

The thrill of the hunt rushes through us, but we can’t linger. The snow is falling harder now, with the blizzard’s full force still to come. He tears into the buck, taking what we need, then leaves the rest for the scavengers. Nature's cycle continues, even in Wintermoon.

With our hunger satisfied, we resume the patrol, senses on high alert. Wintermoon is our home, and we must protect it. The snow muffles the sounds of the night, but he catches the faint rustle of leaves and the distant call of an owl. We move through the trees, a shadow among shadows, scanning for any sign of intruders.

The forest is dark, with patches of moonlight breaking through. Each step is quiet but accompanied by the subtle sounds of the night. My wolf is relaxed but alert, muscles tense under his fur, fueled by the excitement of the hunt. We move steadily through the trees, the cool night air a sharp shift from the warmth of our kill behind us.

As we approach the border of Wintermoon, where Lake Michigan and Lake Huron meet, the forest thins. The water stretches out before us. The sky is clear, with stars above and the moon shining bright above us. My wolf sits at the edge, his paws sinking into the soft earth, eyes focused ahead.

My mind drifts, imagining her beside us, her presence soothing our tired spirits. I picture her laughter, her eyes reflecting the moon's glow. We would show her the beauty of this place and share the wonders of the night. We would sit together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as the world around us fades away.

A thousand years. A millennium of waiting, enduring the curse those Bailey witches cast on all supernaturals. One Bailey witch from this generation saw the light, went against her bloodline, and lifted the curse. But reality is harsh. The curse may be lifted, but the scars remain. The Bailey witches’ betrayal is a wound that time hasn’t healed. My wolf growls again, the sound echoing through us both, a reminder of the lingering pain and anger.

He shifts restlessly, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Memories of those dark days and endless suffering linger. We howl into the night, a mournful call that echoes across the water. It’s a plea, a cry for our mate to come to us. The desperation is raw, a wound that refuses to heal.

Yet, amid the bitterness, hope remains. The night is quiet, the moon watching over us. My wolf closes his eyes, feeling the cool breeze and the scent of the lake mixing with the earthy aroma of the forest.

I don’t know how much more of this we can take, not having our mate by our side. It’s starting to feel like we need to leave Wintermoon and search for her, but something calls us to stay put. My wolf won’t leave this area. Will our mate find us here? That’s something Kade has picked up on many of the supernaturals. Fate seems to be pulling us toward our mates. This must be why we can’t leave the cabin and the forest.

But the waiting feels endless, as if we’re wasting too much time here waiting for her to find us. I need this woman like I need air to breathe. I want to do my duty, to provide and protect, but most of all, to love.

I want the warmth of my mate keeping me close and secure for the rest of our days. I want to watch our children grow in her belly while I ensure we have everything to make a happy home.

I’ve tried leaving the cabin, but we can only handle being away from the land for short periods. Eventually, we feel this strange pull to come back into seclusion, as if this is where we belong. Maybe we don’t have a mate.

Maybe fate is trying to tell us that our job is to protect Wintermoon forever, something we will gladly do. My nieces and nephews will grow up on this land, preserving our legacy. But the pain of knowing my wolf and I may spend an eternity alone puts an ache deep within my chest .

The wind picks up, and the snowfall begins to thicken. We stay by the water for a few more hours before heading to the bridge, where we’ll keep guard for intruders until sunrise. I don’t think anyone will try to trespass in this weather, but if they do, it wouldn’t surprise me.