Chapter 3
The morning after the full moon run brought visitors that would change everything.
I was tending the cook fire when the sound of approaching horses echoed across the desert. Three groups of riders crested the hills surrounding our camp, their banners snapping in the wind—Mountain Pack's silver wolf, Plains Pack's golden eagle, Forest Pack's emerald tree. Each delegation rode with the pomp and ceremony of royalty making a state visit.
Cole emerged from his father's tent, his face grim as stone. Even from a distance, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands unconsciously clenched into fists.
Political marriages. Alliance negotiations. The very things that could tear us apart.
Thunder Chief stepped forward to greet the delegates, but his weathered face betrayed nothing. Whatever they discussed in that hastily convened council, the atmosphere grew heavier with each passing hour.
By evening, the entire camp buzzed with whispered speculation. I caught fragments—"three daughters"... "blood bonds"... "only way to secure the alliance"—but no one would speak openly in front of me.
That night, Cole found me by the creek where we'd shared so many stolen moments. His amber eyes were haunted, older somehow than they'd been that morning.
"What did they want?" I asked, though my heart already knew the answer.
"Unity," he said simply. "At a price I'm not sure I can pay."
Three weeks later, the retching came without warning.
Violent and insistent, it doubled me over behind my tent in the pre-dawn darkness. Three weeks of this—the sickness, the overwhelming scents, the exhaustion that no amount of sleep could cure.
Cole's child grows inside me.
The realization hit like a silver bullet to the chest. In the midst of political turmoil and looming threats, life had found a way to complicate everything further.
I stumbled through my daily routines in a haze of morning sickness and disbelief. The other women noticed my pallor, my sudden aversion to certain foods, but I deflected their curious glances with weak smiles and claims of a stomach ailment.
Elara's tent sat at the eastern edge of camp, where burning sweetgrass and sacred herbs created a constant haze of smoke. Animal bones hung from leather strings, clicking softly in the desert wind like wind chimes of the ancient world.
"Enter, child," came a voice like rustling leaves. "I've been expecting you."
The old shaman's milky eyes seemed to see straight through me as I settled onto the deer hide mat, my hands trembling. She didn't need me to speak—somehow, she already knew.
Without ceremony, she scattered carved bones across the space between us. They clattered like distant thunder, each one landing with supernatural precision that made my skin crawl. Her weathered fingers traced the pattern they formed, and I watched her face transform from curiosity to shock to something approaching awe.
"By the Ancient Ones," she breathed. "Child, the life in your womb carries an ancient prophecy. The Silver Moon child will end the divisions that have torn our people apart for generations."
My hands instinctively covered my still-flat belly. "That's impossible. I'm nobody—just a half-breed with tainted blood."
Elara's gnarled hand reached toward me, hovering just above my abdomen. I felt strange warmth radiating from her palm, as if she could sense the tiny spark of life growing within me.
"It is precisely the suffering you have endured that has purified your soul, making it worthy to nurture the savior child," she said with absolute conviction. "The prophecy speaks of one born of mixed blood, forged in pain, who will bridge the gaps between all werewolf clans."
She closed her eyes, her voice taking on the rhythmic cadence of true prophecy: "Silver moon rises, divisions fall, the child of two worlds shall unite them all."
When she opened her eyes again, they were bright with unshed tears. "A daughter," she whispered. "Born in storm and shadow, marked by the Moon Goddess herself. She will be called Sylvia, for she will bring both destruction of the old ways and renewal of hope."
"And the darkness you mentioned?" I asked, though I dreaded the answer.
Elara's expression grew troubled. "Great trials await, child. Before the prophecy can be fulfilled, terrible choices must be made. Blood will be spilled, hearts will be broken, and you..." She paused, studying the bones again. "You will face a decision that will echo through generations."
That evening, I found Cole at our special place by the creek. The setting sun painted the water gold, and cottonwoods whispered secrets in the evening breeze. He was cleaning his rifle—a nervous habit I'd come to recognize—but his movements were distracted, mechanical.
"Cole," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "I have something to tell you."
He looked up, and I saw my own fears reflected in his amber eyes. Whatever burden the delegates had placed on his shoulders, it was eating him alive.
"I'm carrying your child."
The rifle slipped from his hands, clattering against the rocks as he turned to face me fully. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then shock gave way to wonder, wonder to joy so pure it took my breath away.
"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
I nodded, and suddenly I was in his arms, lifted off my feet as he spun me around. His laughter rang across the water—wild, desperate, joyful laughter that spoke of a man grasping at hope in the midst of impossible circumstances.
When he set me down, his hands framed my face with infinite tenderness. "This is a miracle, Willow. A gift when I thought all hope was lost."
"What did the delegates want?" I asked, though I already suspected.
His face darkened. "Political marriages. They want me to wed daughter from three packs to seal the alliance against the human threat." He pulled me closer, his voice fierce with determination. "But that was before. Everything's different now."
"Cole, you can't—"
"Listen to me," he interrupted, his amber eyes blazing. "When I rise as the alpha, I shall pledge before the pack that you, and you alone, will stand as my eternal mate under the moon, sharing in the pride and power of my reign. Our child will be the most honored heir, legitimate in every way that matters."
For those precious moments, watching his face glow with fierce protectiveness, I believed him. I let myself imagine a future where bloodlines didn't matter, where love could triumph over politics.
How naive we both were.
