Fang

Luna Blood

Cold bodies huddled together in the center of the pack house, clothes soaked through and children with runny noses. It was silent besides the pounding of hail on the roof.

A fire had been made, Moros squatting near it and idly stoking it, adding more logs to burn. Her eyes were unfocused, flames reflecting in her irises. I stood nearby, keeping watch over them. Stovall had been sent for the children.

Questions reeled in my mind. This was what we were spending resources on? A measly bundle of southern warriors and crying children. I couldn't fight back the anger in my chest, it burned like hot coals.

I wasn't angry with LycanMoon. They had come to aid us, they'd left their home behind, their entire lives. My anger was reserved for Forrest alone. He was hiding something from me, and from LycanMoon.

I should've questioned him before, when it was first mentioned. Looking at them, they don't fit in anywhere in Forrest's plan. Why give a southern pack land and titles in the north?

The front door slammed open, a male I hadn't seen before standing in the doorway. His shoulders were hunched under the weight of what he was carrying. Bags and belongings were thrown over his shoulders, clutched under his arms, even held between his teeth.

He shuffled inside, kicking the door back closed with his foot, before dropping the bags to the floor with a grunt. "Come get your things," he panted, finally lifting his head up to look at the women and children.

Moros was back on her feet in an instant, striding over to the male. "Beta Gannon," she introduced him to me. My eyes snapped back to the male. Their new beta. This was no southern male.

"Luna Moros," he dipped his head to her. LycanMoon females rushed forward to grab their belongings, crowding the space between us. His eyes met mine, a well guarded caution behind them. I held his his stare, holding my chin up. It hadn't missed my ears that Moros was now luna. I'd greeted her improperly, and she hadn't corrected me.

"This is Luna Blood," Moros introduced me. At the mention of my title, the beta's eyes immediately left mine, his head dipping down in respect. "Crossfield," Moros whispered into his bent head, though I still picked it up.

My name had travelled. Interesting.

"Where are the rest of LycanMoon?" I questioned him.

"Alpha Blackford is figuring out temporary housing for the night, as the males are leaving tomorrow." He was quick to answer me, but his eyes seemed to assess every inch of me. I wondered then what the name Crossfield meant to him.

I didn't need to question if we had the space. We undoubtably did- LycanMoon in its entirety made up for less than one of our lesser packs.

"I see." Unintentional hostility laced my tone. To remedy it, I gave the beta a quick smile before turning my back to him, deciding to make myself busy with helping the women and children.

"Close your mouth," the southern luna hissed behind me to her companion.

Before I could even help lift a bag, the front door slammed open again. Throwing up my hands I turned to look back at the newcomer, but my view was blocked by the luna and beta. "Can anyone use a door normally? Just because it's hailing doesn't mean we get to slam things around."

"Apologies, Luna," Stovall's voice met my hears, muffled behind the bodies. I could hear the sarcasm in her voice. "Hands are full," she offered an explanation.

I could feel the cold quickly rushing in from the open door, working against the warmth in the pack house. "Mama," a child cried from behind me. "Why is it so cold here?"