How do you fight the Moon?
The King has fallen to a God.
The world is gathering, surrounding the Northern hemisphere on all side, crushing, strangling the land in a tight noose.
All they demand is Charlie's head. The female Alpha born from two alp...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Death comes. It's a certainty, just like spring rains will come after winter. I can smell it in the air—it is death.
Odin's towering figure looms, a testament to his power. Some cavern in him has cracked open, and he weeps openly within his grief.
The Moon's mate tries to fight Odin's hold on his calf. Impossible. It's as if he's anchored into the marrow of him. A trail of blood follows them towards the beam of light.
"It's only blood." Odin's voice travels around the world as a violent growl.
"Stop." The Moon commands. Her sound is somewhere between her stomach and throat.
There is a pause, a moment of hesitation, before Odin exhibits his teeth. With blatant disrespect, he stares into the eyes of the Moon. She doesn't glance away but welcomes his malice with open arms.
"Stand tall." He mimics my mother's smile—all teeth.
— death comes.
He digs into the dirt and drags the male forward, not looking back. The sound of vengeance is so pure that it thrums through my nerve endings.
There is space between my body and bones that longs for him to enter full of this power. I need him within my teeth.
A single-foot stomp starts. Over and over again. Turning towards the sound, Shamus leads as other males begin to join.
"Stand up, Elska." Shamus prods her to get up on her own. He's careful not to touch her, as she seems crumbled.
"How can he kill something that has no heartbeat?" she cries.
More wolves join in, and the sound feels violent—a death beat. I've never heard this before. It becomes ominous as more males, with their heavier bodies, use it to vibrate the ground.
The mass of crows gathering creates a shadow over the ground.
Odin enters the beam of sunlight with the Moon's mate. He releases him, and the male cannot push past the barrier of the Sun's light. His body is rendered solid, like Odin's. Within the beam, there will be no more tricks. It's body against body.
"I hear his heartbeat." Elska stands, gripping Shamus's arm as her legs try to fold her back down.
Shamus continues to lead. One sound. One meaning. Death Death. Death.
"I am from the original pack." The Moon's warrior stands taller, stiff-legged, posturing. His teeth are bared, and his nose wrinkles—an overt warning for other wolves to stay away.
Odin is not any other wolf. There is no slinking or slumping from this male. His ears do not flatten.
"I will give back the traditions you made in the Far North." He promises.
