Winter: A time for love and revenge

There are moments in your life that become burned in your brain, and you know they will never fade no matter how long you live. For me, one of those moments was the night our Alpha was murdered.

It was the middle of December here in Maine. Snow blanketed the forest floor and filled the air with the crisp scent. Slivers of moonlight peeked through the trees, illuminating Aspen as he stripped off his shirt, the muscles in his back shifting and flexing under his pale skin. Even though I knew I shouldn’t watch when he pulled off his sweatpants, I couldn’t keep my gaze from him for long. Seeing him naked was vastly different from seeing my packmates naked. It was vastly different than only months ago, back when I only saw him as a friend.

A sharp breeze blew through the trees shifting the powdery snow and had me shivering as more snow came down. Werewolves were able to handle the cold better than humans, even in our human form, but I was still feeling the effects, my bare feet going numb just from standing in a foot of snow. As a result, I stripped out of my clothes in record time and shifted into wolf form.

The change from human to wolf was far from painless, but it was nowhere near the agony I’d felt the first time I shifted at thirteen. As the years passed and I kept shifting, the process became more and more bearable.

The dark gray fur of my wolf helped insulate me against the cold, protecting me from the relentless breeze.

Aspen came to stand beside me as I shook out my fur. His wolf’s fur was mainly black, with white on his legs and tail. It was no surprise he stood several inches taller than me, especially when he was also taller than me in human form.

Our Alpha getting murdered on our lands on the night of the full moon was a blatant “fuck you” to our pack. Entering packlands without warning or permission was enough to be attacked and possibly killed by us, but to do so on a full moon was a slap to our faces. On this night, we were at our strongest, most dangerous. The only time we were weak on a full moon was when we were fighting the lure of the moon, trying to remain in our human form. The older we got, the easier the pull of the moon was to ignore, but it still left our attention divided.

So, for someone to attack us on this night was their way of calling us weak and non-threatening. It was a fucking insult.

The night started off like any other full moon. We raced through the snow-covered forest that gave off an enchanted feeling and was a beautiful sight to behold. I’d always loved it when it snowed. Preferably when I remained indoors looking out the window at the snow, but there was something about running in it in wolf form that was so freeing. The snow was a soft cushion to land on when another wolf would playfully tackle you to the ground. It was altogether an enjoyable experience that unfortunately became tainted by this night.

The pack bonding experience came to an abrupt end when Alpha Mitchell’s voice collectively spoke in all pack members’ heads at once. ‘Shapeshifters have invaded our land. Initiate emergency protocols.’

Shapeshifters had the ability to turn into any living thing with a few amendments. They couldn’t turn into other supernatural species. They couldn’t turn into a faerie or a mermaid and receive the benefit of their powers.

If I could gasp in wolf form, I would’ve. ‘Shapeshifters?’ I asked, projecting my words into Aspen’s head.

‘I know. It doesn’t make any sense.’ I could hear the worry in his voice, mirroring my own since he no longer was in my line of sight.

If Mitchell had announced vampires were attacking, that would’ve made some sense. Vampires and werewolves had an infamous centuries-long rivalry and hatred that only grew worse as time went on.

The Alpha’s warning had everyone on high alert as we went into defense mode and began doing as he ordered. Anyone under eighteen was to be escorted back to the packhouse—which had been warded to protect against many supernatural species with their various weaknesses—and weren’t allowed to engage in the fighting unless there was no other choice. Because I was only nineteen—I was a few months shy of twenty—I was a part of the group whose job it was to ensure those who were underage got back to the house without incident.

These contingency plans had seemed excessive and ridiculous when I first learned them as a child, but they didn’t seem ridiculous tonight. Mitchell had been right: you never knew when an attack might occur.

A big weakness of shapeshifters was their scent. It gave them away instantly. While they were able to change into any person or animal they’ve seen, their scent always remained unchanged. Any supernatural with an enhanced sense of smell knew it was them instantly. Their scent was hard to describe. It was almost like the absence of smell, but at the same time not. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it was like someone tried to scrub the scent clean with intense cleaning products but couldn’t completely remove it. There was a slight numbing tingle left behind in your nostrils, making you want to sneeze.

So when I smelled this very scent coming from a small wolf emerging from the trees, pretending to be a child, I instantly went into attack mode and tackled the fucking thing, causing us to bounce and roll across the snow.

A young wolf nearby paused, appearing unsure if he should help or run. He only continued back toward the packhouse when I spoke into his mind, telling him to get his fucking ass back to the house. Not only did I not want him to get hurt since he had barely started shifting, but all he would do was distract me in my fight.

While the shapeshifter may look like a small white wolf, it was strong and fast as hell. As we rolled, I kicked at its stomach with my hind legs, drawing blood before we finally broke apart. Blood dripped from its stomach, staining the pristine snow as it stood.

I didn’t wait and lunged at the damn thing, my teeth narrowly missing its neck as it moved to the side at the last second.

We circled each other, assessing the other’s strengths and weaknesses. I knew I had a short window before the scratches I’d inflicted on its stomach healed, and since I had no clue how many of these fuckers were here, I needed all the help I could get.

This time, the shapeshifter went on the offense. While they missed my neck, they managed to scratch my shoulder. The scratch stung, but it didn’t feel deep enough for me to be concerned at the moment. I was still able to move my front leg with ease, so I doubted it did any vital damage. The pain was soon dulled by the adrenaline coursing through my body, and we continued the dance of one of us attacking while the other one managed to dodge.

The shapeshifter was the first to make a mistake, and I took advantage of the situation, dispatching them before taking off toward the house. This wasn’t my first kill. I’d killed two vampires a few years back when I was visiting family on the West Coast, and some rogue vampires attacked.

Blood stained the once beautiful snow as I raced past multiple bodies. When shapeshifters died, they remained in the form they were in—a good thing too since their natural form was horrifying. But when werewolves died, we returned to human form, which made it all the more devastating to pass the bodies in human form. The werewolves remaining as wolves had a chance at recovering, but the ones that were in human form didn’t. We would never willingly shift into human form, not when we healed faster as wolves.

Even though it pained me to do so, I kept running past the bodies and tried ignoring the sounds of fighting that were all around me. My job was to protect the little ones, most of whom had yet to learn how to protect themselves. While the seventeen and eighteen-year-olds had a good amount of training, many of them had never been in a real fight—not one where death was a consequence of losing the fight.

‘Fay,’ Aspen’s voice appeared in my mind, sounding panicked. ‘Please tell me you’re alright and back at the house.’

The tightness that had been clenching my chest whenever I thought of Aspen out there fighting those shapeshifters somewhat eased. I’d been terrified I might find him in the dead bodies of my pack members, but I’d been too afraid to contact him—afraid of either distracting him or that he might not answer. ‘I’m nearly there. Are you alright?’ I couldn’t help but ask, even though I knew there was nothing I could do, and that frustrated me to no end.

‘I’ll be okay. Just get to the house and stay safe.’

I was nearing the packhouse, the dark wood of the mansion peeking through the trees when it happened. It’s hard to put into words, but it was almost like a tether had been severed, one that connected my wolf to our Alpha. My breath stalled in my lungs, and it felt near impossible to catch my breath. The loss was devastating for me, but more importantly, my wolf who tipped her head back and howled in devastation, as had many fellow pack members. My wolf had already been off-kilter seeing fellow pack members dead or dying, but losing our alpha was a profound loss and nearly had me losing my footing.

It took my wolf several minutes before she was able to get her bearings, but eventually, she was able to focus on the task at hand. I helped check around the mansion, both to ensure no shapeshifters were nearby and to make sure all of the young ones had gone into the panic room.

The panic room took up the entire basement and could be accessed through the outside with either a handprint—or paw print—from a member of this pack. Once sealed, it was said to be impossible to break into and would take magic from a whole coven to break into it.

I wasn’t the only one to take up watch around the house—there were nine others—each as frustrated as I was. More than anything, I wanted to go out and look for the shape-shifting fuckers, but that wasn’t what I was assigned to do. Just because the panic room was alleged to be impenetrable, it didn’t mean we would ever take that risk when it came to our young. It was lucky we didn’t allow those younger than thirteen to be on packlands during the full moon. They were with humans that knew about us in the nearby town of Shadowhaven Valley.

While I was glad none of the shapeshifters attempted to come near the house, I was also annoyed. If they had approached, I would’ve had an excuse to fight and kill them, but it wasn’t in the cards for me tonight.

A big part of me resented that most of my friends, including Aspen, weren’t assigned to babysitting duty like I was. They were only a few months older than me, making this whole situation some serious bullshit. It wasn’t based on age since the wolf nearest to me, Adalind, had turned twenty this fall. Over half of us guarding the kids were women. I didn’t want to say this, but I was noticing a pattern.

‘Do you know any details?’ I eventually asked to distract myself from the distant sounds of fighting still going on.

I could make out Adalind’s light gray fur through the trees. Her focus was on the surrounding forest, giving no outward indication she’d heard me. ‘The alpha was at the North border when he was killed.’

That didn’t make any sense. ‘Why was he even out there?’

‘No idea. That’s just what I was told.’

The sounds of fighting faded as the night worse on, ending completely an hour before the moon vanished, and yet, we still had yet to hear anything. An older member of the pack approached us as the pull of the full moon vanished, telling us to go into the house but to wait to go to bed until the beta addressed us all.

The scratch I received while fighting that shapeshifter earlier had long since healed when I shifted back and pulled on my clothes. Despite having spent most of the night patrolling the house, I was drained—both physically and mentally. I was always tired the morning after a full moon. Shifting took a lot out of us, and racing through the trees—while it was fun for our wolves—was exhausting. But tonight was far worse. This was a soul-deep kind of exhaustion and had me dragging my feet as I climbed the front steps into the house.

I didn’t check on the little ones in the panic room. Not only was that not a part of my job, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with whatever mess they made. If I saw it, I’d end up having to be the one to clean it up, and there was no way in fucking hell I was doing that shit.

I all but threw myself onto the light brown sofa, sinking back against the plush cushions with a groan as my muscles ached. It probably wasn’t the best plan to sit on such a soft and comfortable sofa when exhausted, but the idea of standing any longer had me dying on the inside.

Adalind ended up joining me on the sofa, letting out a low sigh when she tried to run her fingers through her blue-dyed hair, but her fingers met a tangle. No doubt my shoulder-length, blonde hair was just as messy. “Not ‘it’ on cleaning up after the little ones,” she muttered as she yanked her messy hair back into a bun.

“Same,” I grumbled before smothering a yawn.

It wasn’t long before others joined us in the spacious, but cozy, living room, their low voices filling the space. I could’ve easily listened in on their conversations, but all they were doing was asking questions and making speculations, giving me nothing concrete or useful. One pack member was loud in her complaints about how it was unfair we had to sit around waiting, saying we could easily have this discussion later after we’ve all slept.

Since I didn’t like this bitch, I was always going to disagree with her out of spite, but on this, she was a serious dumbass. Go to bed? Not only was it insensitive to all those who had died or were seriously injured and were with the healer witches that had no doubt been called here, but it wasn’t smart.

What if this was part of a larger plan, and they attacked again when we were sleeping and vulnerable?