Chapter 3
I huddled in the back seat of our ancient RV, a threadbare blanket pulled tight around my shoulders as we bumped along the muddy mountain road. Outside the window, endless wilderness stretched in all directions, broken only by occasional ravens swooping low, their harsh cries echoing through the valley. Three days since we'd left Gregory Pack territory, and I still felt hollow inside, like someone had scooped out everything that made me who I was.
"Try to rest, muffin," Mom said, turning in her seat to check on me. Her eyes were tired but determined. "We'll find our new home soon. Alpha Charles's pack is said to be exceptional. He's a capable leader with an open mind."
I nodded weakly, not believing her but lacking the energy to argue. Mom was trying—we all were—but nothing could fill the emptiness of leaving behind everything I'd ever known. My home, my school, what few friendly acquaintances I'd managed to keep despite being wolf-less. All gone, like leaves scattered in the autumn wind.
Dad gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white with tension. I caught him glancing at me in the rearview mirror several times, his mouth opening as if to speak before closing again in silence. The weight of our situation hung heavily on his shoulders. Just days ago, he'd been the Beta of Gregory Pack, respected and powerful. Now he was just a man in a rusted RV, taking his family into uncertain territory.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the engine's rumble. Mom turned around again, her brow furrowed.
"What was that, Margaret?"
"I said I'm sorry," I repeated, louder this time. "If I wasn't wolf-less, we wouldn't be in this situation. You wouldn't have had to leave everything behind."
Dad's eyes met mine in the mirror. "Don't ever apologize for who you are, Maggie. This isn't your fault. It's Alpha Gregory's outdated thinking that's to blame."
His words were kind, but they didn't ease my guilt. I'd cost my parents everything.
As evening approached, Dad pulled over at a small clearing to discuss our route.
"We'll head north through Black Fang Forest," he explained, unfolding a worn paper map across the dashboard. "If we push through, we should reach Alpha Charles's territory in two days."
Mom frowned, her finger tracing the dark green area on the map. "Black Fang? Is that wise? We could take the longer route around."
"We don't have the fuel for that," Dad replied, his voice low. "Besides, Winter's approaching. The mountain passes will close soon."
He turned to look at me. "We need to be careful though. Black Fang is dangerous territory—wild animals, rogue wolves from other territories. We'll need to move quickly and quietly."
A shiver ran down my spine. Everyone knew about Black Fang Forest. It was infamous for danger—not just from ordinary predators, but from rogue wolves and outcasts that no pack would claim. Back in Gregory Pack, children scared each other with stories about it: "Step into Black Fang, and you'll never come out again."
I swallowed hard, clutching my blanket tighter as I tried to push down the rising panic in my chest. Dad must have noticed my expression because his face softened.
"We'll be fine, Maggie. Your mother and I can handle ourselves."
I nodded, but the knot in my stomach only tightened.
The first two days of our journey were tense. We avoided main roads, taking narrow mountain trails where our RV lurched and bounced over rocks and mud. Each violent jolt sent my heart into my throat. At night, we didn't dare light a fire, sustaining ourselves on dry rations and cold water.
Mom and Dad took turns keeping watch, their eyes constantly scanning the surrounding darkness for any sign of movement. I tried to sleep but couldn't. Every sound—the whisper of wind through trees, distant howls that might have been wolves or just my imagination—kept me alert and trembling.
Sometimes I felt eyes watching us from the darkness. When I mentioned this to Mom, she just nodded grimly and checked her knife again.
On the third day, we reached the entrance to Black Fang Forest. The sight of it made my blood run cold. The forest opening looked like a gaping maw, ancient trees stretching toward the sky, their canopies intertwining to form a dark ceiling above. The air smelled of damp rot, and the soft, slippery soil beneath our feet made sickening squelching sounds with each step.
Our RV struggled along the narrow forest path, wheels catching on exposed roots and hidden rocks. When it lurched to a stop, stuck in a particularly deep rut, Dad climbed out to clear the obstruction.
"Stay inside," he ordered, his expression grave.
Mom grabbed her knife and followed him out, her eyes scanning the forest with predatory alertness.
"Something's not right," she murmured, nostrils flaring. "I smell wolves. Not wild ones—pack wolves. And not just one."
My heart sank into my stomach. I shrank back in my seat, eyes darting to every shadow between the trees. The forest was eerily quiet—no birds singing, no insects buzzing, just the occasional rustle of leaves and distant, unidentifiable bird calls. An oppressive heaviness hung in the air, making it difficult to breathe.
The RV stopped in a small clearing. Dad turned to me, his face serious.
"Maggie, stay in the vehicle. Lock the doors and don't come out no matter what happens."
I wanted to protest, to beg them not to leave me alone, but my throat closed up, no sound emerging. I could only watch as they positioned themselves protectively in front of our RV, forming a defensive line against whatever lurked in the shadows.
The first growl came from deep within the forest—low, menacing, hungry. Then dark shapes burst from the undergrowth, moving so quickly they were little more than blurs against the dim forest light.
I caught glimpses of matted fur, gleaming red eyes, and slavering jaws with yellowed fangs. These weren't ordinary wolves. These were rogues—shifters who'd been expelled from their packs, who'd lost their humanity and rational thought, becoming more dangerous than any wild animal.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I clutched the seat, fingernails digging into the fabric. I'd never seen a rogue wolf before, only heard stories. The reality was far worse than any tale.
"Simon, now!" Mom shouted, and with a series of sickening cracks, her body contorted, bones breaking and reforming as she shifted into her wolf form—a sleek, powerful gray wolf with fur that gleamed even in the forest's dim light, her eyes blazing with lethal intent.
Dad transformed simultaneously into an even larger black wolf, muscles rippling beneath his midnight fur as his claws dug deep into the soil. A deep growl rumbled from his chest, filling the clearing with a palpable sense of threat.
Maggie, get down! Mom's voice echoed in my head through our mind-link.
I slid to the floor between seats, my body shaking uncontrollably. Through a gap in the window curtain, I watched the battle unfold.
Mom lunged like lightning at the nearest rogue, her jaws clamping around its throat. Blood sprayed as she tore away flesh. Dad used a nearby rock as a vantage point, meeting attackers head-on, his massive paws ripping through fur and muscle.
But there were so many of them—wave after wave emerging from the trees as if endless. My parents fought back-to-back, Mom's speed and precision targeting vulnerable points while Dad's raw power provided the defensive front. Yet I could see their strength waning, injuries accumulating.
Mom's silver-gray fur became stained with red. Dad's shoulder was pierced by a rogue's bite, drawing a pained growl from his massive form.
Ophelia, watch the right flank! Dad warned through the mind-link.
I saw it too—more wolves circling, looking for openings. Mom's movements had slowed, her breathing labored. Dad limped slightly, though he still fought with ferocious determination.
I pressed my hands against the window, tears streaming down my face. I wanted desperately to help them, but what could I do? I had no wolf, no strength, no power. If I went out there, I'd only become a liability—another thing for them to protect.
"Please," I whispered, not sure who I was talking to. "Let them be okay. Let us survive this."
Then came new sounds—rapid footfalls approaching from the depths of the forest. Several sleek forms burst from the trees, moving with disciplined precision. At their head was a magnificent silver-gray wolf, its coat smooth and well-groomed, eyes gleaming with an unnatural silver light, radiating an authority completely different from the feral rogues.
The silver wolf launched itself at the rogues surrounding my mother, claws slashing with such force that one attacker was nearly torn in half. The newcomers joined the fight with methodical efficiency, their movements suggesting training and teamwork.
My parents exchanged a glance, wariness replacing exhaustion as they backed toward our RV, shifting back to human form, panting heavily as they assessed this new development.
The newcomers made short work of the remaining rogues. Those that survived fled into the forest depths, tails tucked between their legs, snarling in frustrated retreat.
The clearing fell silent except for heavy breathing. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood, the ground littered with the bodies and dismembered limbs of fallen rogues. The sight was horrifying, like something from a nightmare.
I pushed open the RV door, stumbling toward my parents on shaky legs.
"Mom! Dad! Are you okay?" My voice broke with emotion, barely comprehensible through my sobs.
I threw my arms around Mom, needing to feel her warmth, to confirm she was really alive. Only then did my racing heart begin to slow.
"We're alright, Maggie," she assured me, though her eyes never left the newcomers, her posture remaining defensive. The knife was still in her hand.
"Who are you?" she demanded of the strangers. "Why did you help us?"
Dad stood beside us, his face impassive but eyes calculating, ready to protect us at a moment's notice.
The lead wolf shifted forms, revealing a tall man with broad shoulders. "I'm Dylan," he said calmly, his gaze lingering on my father. "And you're the Tudor family, correct?"
Mom's eyebrows shot up, confusion and suspicion flashing across her face.
"How do you know our name?" she challenged, stepping slightly in front of me. "Who are you people?"