WHISPERS OF THE MOON

CHAPTER ONE: THECRESCENT MARK

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ WHISPERS OF THE MOON ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The timber was alive with the howl of leaves and the distant call of owls as Ayla trudged through the leafage, her thrills sinking slightly into the damp earth. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and though the night was still, the world around her hummed with unseen energy. She had always felt a connection to the timber — an unnoticeable thread that pulled her deeper into its heart, where the trees rumored secrets aged than the village she had grown up in.

Ayla acclimated the swatch of her leather satchel and soughed. It had been another long day of searching for sauces, her fritters stained green from crushing the shops she demanded her dressings. Her hands were always busy, it sounded, casting cures and plasters for the people who escaped her. She was the stranger, the girl with the crescent mark, the bone the village rumored about in hushed tones. The healer none wanted, yet everyone demanded. She broke down for a moment, glancing up at the moon. It hung low in the sky, round and full, casting a soft, pale gleam over the timber. The moon had always fascinated Ayla. It was her only companion on nights like this when the loneliness pressed in around her like the dark murk of the trees.

She reached up absentmindedly and touched the mark on her upper arm, a crescent moon as dark as night against her pale skin. It had been there since birth, and for as long as she could flashback, it had been a source of both wonder and fear — wonder for her.

" Moon-touched," they called her ." pronounced by Selene herself." The townies believed that her mark meant she was cursed, fated to bring mischance to anyone who came too close. No one knew the true nature of her connection to the moon, not indeed Ayla herself. All she knew was that the mark had set her piecemeal from the others, made her different. And different, in the eyes of her people, was dangerous. Ayla shook her head, trying to push the studies from her mind. She had come to terms with her solitariness long ago.

It was better this way no one would be hurt or failed. Just her, the timber, and the sauces she gathered. But as she walked deeper into the forestland, commodities felt different tonight. The air was charged, electric, like the moments before a storm. The hairs on the reverse of her neck stood on end, and she broke, surveying the surrounding trees. The timber, generally so familiar and comforting, suddenly felt alive. Not in the natural way she was used to, but in a way that made her palpitation quicken with apprehension.

A branch snapped behind her, and Ayla set. Her hand artificially went to the small dagger she carried in her midriff. She wasn’t one to fear fluently, but the insulation of the timber made her vulnerable. She turned sluggishly, her eyes searching the murk, but there was nothing there. Just the trees, standing silently, their leaves swaying gently in the breath. " Get it together," she murmured to herself, turning back to the path ahead." It’s just the timber." But the feeling of being watched didn’t leave her. However, it boosted as she continued forward if anything. The murk sounded to shift and dance at the edge of her vision, and every step she took felt like it was being echoed by someone — or commodity — differently. Her heart began to fight, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the rough feeling grew stronger. She quickened her pace, her hand still on the bow of her dagger, her eyes zipping back and forth. And also, without warning, a deep scowl echoed through the trees. Ayla’s blood ran cold.

It wasn't the sound of a distant beast, it was near, far too close. She spun around, eyes wide, searching the darkness. The scowl came again, this time from her left, low and menacing. She drew her dagger, holding it out in front of her as she backed down sluggishly. " Who is there?" she called, trying to keep her voice steady, though her heart pounded in her casket." I’m advising you, I’m fortified." For a moment, there was silence, and Ayla allowed just for an alternative, that she might have imagined it. But also, from the murk, a brace of glowing eyes appeared. Her breath caught in her throat as the massive wolf stepped into the moonlight. Its fur was a deep black, shimmering noiselessly in the pale gleam of the moon. Its golden eyes were locked onto hers, unblinking, watching her every move. Ayla’s mind contended. She had seen wolves ahead, but no way this close. And no way one so large.

The critter was enormous, its muscles splashing beneath its satiny fleece, every inch of it radiating power and peril. But there was a commodity different in its eyes than just the wildness of a bloodsucker. Intelligence, mindfulness. The wolf let out another low scowl, and Ayla took a step back, her palpitation roaring in her cognizance.

" I don’t want any trouble," she said, her voice slightly further than a tale." Just. let me go, and I’ll leave you alone."

The wolf took a step forward, its eyes not leaving hers. It was so near now that she could see the rise and fall of its casket, hear the deep, steady breathing that sounded far too controlled for a bare beast. The wolf began to change. At first, it was subtle — the way its body shifted, the way its muscles sounded to ripple beneath its skin. But also, in the blink of an eye, the critter stood high, its branches protracting, its fur retreating. Ayla’s heart pounded in her casket as she watched the metamorphosis unfold, too shocked to move, too stupefied to indeed breathe. In place of the wolf stood a man.

He was towering over her, his dark hair falling in loose swells around his face. His skin was scourged, his muscles spare and important, and his golden eyes — the same eyes that had watched her from the wolf’s face — lustered in the moonlight. He was naked, but there was no sense of vulnerability about him. He stood with the confidence of someone who knew his strength, who knew he was stressed. Ayla’s hand tensed around the bow of her dagger, but she knew it was useless. Whatever this man this critter was, she was no match for him. He took a step toward her, and Ayla’s breath hitched in her throat.

His aspect wasn't violent, nearly. Curious. " Who are you?" she asked, her voice slightly above a tale. The man lifted his head slightly as if considering her question. For a long moment, he said nothing, simply watching her with those agitating golden eyes. Eventually, he spoke, his voice low and rough, like the scowl of the wolf he'd been moments ago.

" You have the mark," he said, his eyes fluttering to her arm where the crescent moon lay, dark against her skin.

Ayla artificially covered the mark with her hand, her heart racing.

" What do you want?" The man took another step forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were trying not to scarify her.

" The question," he said, his voice calm," is what do you want, Ayla of the Crescent?" She blinked, the sound of her name on his lips transferring a bite down her chin. How did he know who she was? And what did he mean by' Ayla of the Crescent'?

" You know my name?" she asked, her voice pulsing slightly despite her sweat to remain calm. He jounced, his eyes now leaving hers.

" I know more than that." Ayla's heart quickened. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to get as far down from this man, this critter — as possible. But in the way he looked at her, in the way he spoke, kept her embedded to the spot.

" Who are you?" she asked again, further insistently this time.

The man dithered, his eyes fluttering to the moon before returning to her.

" I'm Kael," he said eventually, his voice as steady as the night itself." Nascence of the Anara Wolves." Ayla’s mind reeled.

Nascence of the Anara Wolves? She had heard the legends, the stories told in whispers around the village about the ancient wolves who defended the timber, who could shift between mortal and beast. But they were just that — stories. Weren’t they? She took a step back, her dagger still gripped tightly in her hand.

" I don't understand." Kael watched her, his expression undecipherable." You will," he said vocally, taking another step toward her.

" Soon." Ayla’s breath caught in her throat as Kael reached out, his hand gently brushing the skin of her arm where the crescent mark lay. His touch was warm, transferring a jolt of electricity through her modes, but it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled her.

" You're the bone we have been staying for," he rumored, his voice low and filled with a graveness that made Ayla’s heart pound harder." The bone who can either save us or doom us all." The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning that Ayla couldn't yet grasp. But at that moment, standing beneath the light of the full moon, with the wolf-man’s golden eyes locked onto hers, she knew one thing for certain. Her life would no way be the same again.