33 - A New Dawn

One Month Later...

We didn't emerge from the fight entirely unharmed. Orion, Liliana and my mother fought dirty, alongside some of the officers they brought along for numbers— the ones who didn't surrender. We lost people. Good people, who only wanted to help me get rid of my family. It's a debt I won't be able to repay.

Rowan organised for them to be buried with respect on a little hill overlooking the valley, so they can watch over their home. It's a sombre yet quaint place, with swaying trees bordering a collection of gravestones, flower wreaths draped elegantly against their smooth surfaces. Members of the pack come here to be with the loved ones they've lost through time, the feud with Duskland, or the confrontation with my family. And yet, none of them grudge me for it.

That's not to say I don't grudge myself.

Rowan's parents — the former alpha pair — are buried here, too. He comes here most mornings to sit with them and look out over his land, and then he goes for a jog (either as a man or a wolf) to let off some energy and to clear his head.

I come here a lot, too, because nestled at the base of a tree, looking out at the twinkling constellation of Crescent Valley as the sun slides towards the mountainous borders, casting the sky in swathes of amber and gold and lilac, is a new gravestone. It belongs to Esme and, though I know she's not here, it brings me comfort to sit with her and let my thoughts drift.

One of the fuckers got me. That was the last thing Esme said to me. It hurts, knowing how quickly it all went wrong. How quickly our lives were ripped from us. I wonder what she would think of how it all ended up for me, and with a wry ghost of a smile, I think, one of them got me, too, Es. I think you'd like him, disregarding the wolf thing. I love him in spite of it— maybe even because of it. I wish you could have seen this side of the fight, and I hope you can forgive me. You were always the better hunter of us both. I'm never saying that again, so savour it.

A tentative whine breaks my focus, and I glance across to find Rowan's wolf— a majestic creature with dark grey fur and owlish golden eyes peering at me. He's lying down not too far away, head resting on his front paws and his tail shifting from side to side as he studies me. His ears flick and swivel, taking in the soft noises of the woods around us. Behind him, Beau's wolf chases his tail and Lachlan and Morgan's wolves watch him, looking torn between alarm and acceptance.

Two months ago, I wouldn't have been able to tell them apart. In fact, two months ago, if I'd turned to find four wolves so close, I would've had a heart attack and the silver would be flying within the instant.

A lot has changed, and I've changed with it.

I recognise Rowan's wolf because he's a little larger than the others and stares at me with the sort of intense focus that drills right to my core, sparking with warm familiarity. His fur is darker, too. Beau's wolf is more nimble and light-footed — bouncy and eager as a puppy in an overgrown body — and his fur takes on a brownish tint that glows in the sunlight. Lachlan rivals his alpha's size, and his fur is more ashy than Rowan's own. Morgan's wolf is all lithe and graceful, a similar grey to Rowan, and she holds her head high and peers down her long snout at her mate, who has tipped onto the ground and gazes at her upside-down. He yips; she tackles him. They roll around, play-fighting, until Morgan manages to pin him down with her fangs clamped around his throat. Beau whines in defeat, though his tail whips side to side and Morgan releases him and licks his snout in apology.

As I watch, the beta bows playfully, first to his mate, then to Lachlan, who chases him off, and finally to Rowan, eager for someone to fight with. He even risks a glance at me, but he doesn't approach.

I may not feel an instinctual urge to shove a silver dagger into him anymore, but I haven't quite gotten used to wolves being in such close proximity to me, just yet. A part of me — the part that grew up fearing a bite because of what it would mean — cringes against the idea like a leaf ablaze.

I'm getting better at it, though. Trusting they're not about to bite me, that is. Trusting them in general, really. I'm able to turn back to Esme's gravestone and leave them to their play-fights.

As long as they don't start crawling all over me like over-exuberant puppies and dropping sticks into my lap, I don't mind them. Mercifully they haven't, because they know as well as I do that my silver would come out of hiding with startling efficiency if they do.

I'm even starting to see them as graceful, and powerful, and loyal to a fault. Rowan's wolf, especially. Though that may have something to do with the fact that the spark in his eyes reminds me of his human form.

With the sun sinking out of sight, and with shadows smothering the sunset, I rise with a stretch. A cool breeze stirs; trees shudder and groan as it disturbs their slumber. Beau, Morgan and Lachlan's wolves all perk up and yip at me to follow them as they go trotting off into the woods, leading the way back home. They're eager because it is Kay's night to cook again, and I've come to understand exactly how special of an occasion it is. They really are incredible in the kitchen.

Rowan's wolf bows into a stretch, waiting for me, his ears flicking.

I approach and decide to step a little further out of my bubble of comfort, offering him my hand. Another olive branch, I muse.

His tail whips from side to side, but he's careful and tentative as he steps close to sniff at my hand. He gives my fingers a little nudge with his nose before he backs off.

My lips twitch as he tilts his head, peering up at me with liquid golden eyes to gauge my reaction.

Progress.

– ➶ –

Dinner is a chaotic affair, as it always is, and yet I wouldn't have it any other way. Gradually, as my unease began to thaw, more and more members of the pack began to trickle through the front door, and now there's a daily struggle to find a free space. Beau causes mayhem like there's no tomorrow, pulling faces to make the children laugh and taunting Morgan and Lachlan until I'm certain they're going to plot his murder. Rowan is at ease, graceful and proud as he surveys his family, and every now and then he catches my gaze and offers me a smile. Checking for any hint of discomfort.

He follows me to my room, later that night, once everyone has dispersed and the pack house falls quiet. It's a peaceful evening and the woods are alive with hooting owls and the incessant song of crickets, muffled from inside but there all the same. He closes the door after us and makes a point of locking it— something of a habit, now, and one I'm immensely glad of.

I study my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are piercing, my features sharp and chiselled as a knife's edge. In the last few weeks, my hair's grown, and it lies in a tousled mess that — I note with some satisfaction — Rowan seems enchanted by. He's staring, now. I study him through the mirror as he sweeps his dark gaze over me appreciatively, lost to his own admiration but staying at a distance.

As always, he waits for me to initiate or brush him off. He's careful and patient with me, even after weeks of peace. Not overly cautious so as to make me feel fragile, but enough to let me know that I have just as much power as him when it comes to our relationship behind closed — and locked — doors.

Even now, when a Haze has not descended since that day in the woods where I turned the awful gift Orion bestowed upon me back on him, Rowan seems happy enough to let me figure out this tie between us at my own pace. I'm not ready to go all the way just yet, but he does not grudge me for it— if anything, he seems pleased beyond measure that I'm exploring our connection at a pace that suits me. Take your time, love, he murmurs when we're alone and lost in one another's gaze. I'll be ready when you are, and only then.

Some nights, I take charge and kiss him with reckless abandon, pushing him against the wall or the bed and losing myself to a passion that burns. Other nights, I'll let him take control, and he'll draw desperate noises from my lips and leave me shivering with need as he awaits a strangled, breathless assent. Sometimes, we simply bask in the proximity of one another's presence, curled up on the bed reading or showering together or talking into the early hours of the morning. Savouring the peace.

Visiting my sister's grave has left me in a sombre state, and I shrug off my jumper and fall into bed with a heavy sigh.

Rowan joins me, soon enough, sliding beneath the sheets. My room has become our room, it seems, but I'm not mad about it. I shuffle close and let him pull me into a soft embrace, resting my head on his chest and letting his quiet breaths sway me towards tranquillity.

"You okay?" he asks, combing his fingers through my hair. Yep, I think. Definitely enchanted by it.

I hum in assent.

He's always quick to pick up on my cues and, even with my agreement, he senses something lurking beneath the surface. His fingers fall still.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I'm quiet for a moment, considering. Eventually, I mumble, "I miss her. She deserved so much more than what they did to her."

"I know," he murmurs, untangling his fingers and instead brushing them up and down my back, leaving a pleasant trail of fire in their wake. My bleary, scattered focus follows his movements like a swarm of moths coaxed by a flame.

We're quiet for a while, lost to our thoughts.

"Would it hurt?" I ask, my voice hardly above a whisper. "Being bitten?"

His breath catches, but he recovers swiftly. "I can't speak from personal experience — I was born a werewolf, not bitten — but Beau can. The first shift is always the hardest— even more so, for the bitten. Their entire genetic makeup is shifting, altering, rewiring. The bite itself isn't painful. Not compared to what comes after. It's a long and difficult journey to control the shift instead of letting it control you. That's why I need you to understand I won't force that future onto you. Besides, I'm not entirely certain it would work on you."

I frown and push myself up to peer down at him. "What do you mean?"

He gazes up at me, his doe eyes shimmering liquid bronze. "You said yourself, you aren't human, River. Not entirely. You're something different, just like me. Remember when I told you I've never seen markings like yours on hunters before? It's in your blood to fight werewolves— it stands to reason it would be in your blood to fight the curse, too. I'm not going to test it — obviously — but have any Ferreus hunters actually waited to see if the bite would take hold? Or did they see the bite, think the worst, and take out the threat without pause?"

I swallow thickly and shake my head.

His features twist with leaden understanding.

"You mean they—" My throat closes up and the words come out choked and brittle. "They killed her for nothing?"

"From what I've seen, I wouldn't put it past them. I'm so sorry, love," he murmurs, pulling me down to him. I melt against his soft embrace with a sniffle, drowning in a sea of grief that chokes me. "It's over. They're gone, now."

"Not all of them," I manage.

They think I'm dead. I could use it to my advantage— stay below the radar, exist in a little bubble of peace here in Crescent Valley, keeping my head down and doing all I can to hide our pack from prying eyes. Keep them safe.

And yet, I'm not one for cowering.

Rowan's form goes tense against mine and he asks, very softly, "What are you thinking?"

I sit up and wipe at my eyes, glaring absently at my hands and the lichtenberg figures and runes and symbols entwined in a chaotic cluster on my skin.

Rowan sits up, too, and he takes my hands in his own.

I lift my gaze and the unease churning away inside falls still, as though his close attention is a blinding light chasing off shadows.

Maybe this is why fate drew us together. Rowan has pulled me from the depths of guilt and rage and he's shown me the truth. Werewolves aren't the threat. It's not the curse of the bite that plagues this world— it's the curse of being a Ferreus hunter and growing up beneath their pointless fury and being taught to kill, to destroy, to let our hatred define us. But Rowan is my fated and even when I fall into a Haze — a state of near-celestial fury — I can recognise the true danger.

The threat isn't over. Orion isn't the mastermind of the operation— he was only a mindless pawn in a game beyond comprehension. There are Ferreus hunters in the place I used to call home, distant relatives returning from successful hunt after hunt, teaching children to hold silver knives just like I was taught. They'll train them up, force a Haze on them, and throw them out onto the battlefield to pick fights with werewolves whose only crimes are existing, only to turn on them the moment they've become tainted.

They do not deserve that fate any more than Esme did— or I did. How long will it take for them to come searching for another pack to destroy? How long will it take for their hunt to lead them here, to my safe haven? I have the power to put an end to it, to wipe the slate clean. There are monsters out there wearing a guise of righteousness, tainted with something darker, more malevolent, than a werewolf bite. The Curse of Ferreus.

I'm not on my own, anymore, or trapped beneath their will. I escaped that fate. I have a family who will protect me with their lives, as I would theirs, and I have Rowan at my side. We can make it right. We can change it all together.

I tell him about the other members of the Ferreus clan— the distant relatives, the elders, the children walking blindly towards the crumbling cliff edge of their fate if they stay.

"I need to put a stop to it," I tell him. "They're hurting innocent people, and I— I can't hide away and pretend everything's fine. I want to wake up without worrying about them breathing down my neck. I don't want to give them a chance to catch us by surprise, Rowan. I— I want them gone."

"You're going to hunt the hunters, aren't you?" he asks, his brows rippling with unease as he reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair from my eyes.

"I won't let those kids meet the same fate as Esme," I say, determination a suit of armour coating my tone. My nerves tingle with something close to elation as I consider the fight ahead of me. It is in my nature, after all, to purge the world of monsters. "You don't have to come with me."

Rowan recognises the spark of dedication blazing in my eyes. An answering flame surges to life in his own gaze, and he brushes his knuckles against my cheek. "I'll keep saying it until you believe it, love. You don't have to face them on your own. I'm with you," he says, reverence coating his voice in a haze of honey. "Whatever you choose."

The thought of him coming with me to the heart of a hunter den sets my mind on fire with worry. "What about the pack? Will they be alright without you? What if another pack tries sneaking past your borders again— we'll be right back where we started."

A smile tugs at his lips as his eyes wander off on a little road trip of my features, mapping every inch of me. "I'm sure the others can manage. And if the worst should happen, I'm not worried. I've got you by my side— my silver edge."

I roll my eyes lightly, tangling my fingers through his curls. "You're the strangest alpha I've ever seen," I taunt.

He laughs, a sound of pure bliss, as he shifts a little closer, his gaze dipping to my lips. "So I've been told."

I close the distance between us and kiss him, enveloping myself in a fog of bliss and cinnamon. He melts against me, meeting my advance until we become one. Until there is no line to where he ends and I begin. A haze settles over me— but not the bloodthirsty kind. A peaceful one, even despite the war looming on the horizon. I know I can handle it, as long as I have him by my side. We are a force of howls and silver, keeping one another afloat as the curses of our legacies try to drown us, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I've found my home here, with him, in Crescent Valley, and I will defend this peace with my life.

- ➶ -

The End

For now, at least! River and Rowan's journey continues in the sequel, Oath of the Hunter. Hope to see you there!

Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story!