The Many-Faced Luna

Chapter 4: The Many-Faced Wolf!

My muscles coiled, my bones cracked as my transformation began almost instinctively. My senses sharpened, fur sprouting over my skin. I could feel the familiar thrill of anticipation surge through me, taste the tang of the forest, and hear the frantic heartbeat of the rogues.

I’d encountered rogues before, and it had taken little effort to defeat them. They were rogues, after all, not skilled fighters.

I surged into the open space, my paws barely making a sound against the underbrush. My eyes landed on the rogues, as they aggressively shoved what I assumed to be captured werewolves on the muddy ground. I observed, biding my time as they ransacked their bags, taking whatever they thought to be valuable.

“Now,” Crystal instructed.

I didn’t waste another moment. I leaped over a fallen log, my powerful legs propelling me forward. I landed with practiced ease, lodging myself between the werewolves and the rogues. I growled viciously, assessing the five attackers for their weak points.

“Get rid of her quickly,” one of them said, turning away from me.

As I closed in, a sharp cry pierced through the night. The werewolves who these rogues had attacked were huddled together, their fear mingling with relief. “The Many-Faced Wolf!” one of them shouted, their voice trembling but filled with hope. “She’s here to save us!”

I wasn’t sure who had first come up with that name, but I’d gotten used to it and accepted it. It felt better hearing this, than hearing my family utter my name. The title had spread like wildfire ever since I started wandering around the border, my iron mask in place as I saved wolves from rogues.

Just like what I was doing now.

The rogues turned, their eyes wide with dread as they caught sight of me. I could see the panic in their stares, the realization that they had underestimated their opponent. With a snarl, I lunged at the nearest one, my powerful jaws snapping shut with a resounding thud. The rogue yelped, his resistance crumbling as I overpowered it.

“Please…”

I looked up to see the others staring at me in fear, their eyes darting between their companion and the werewolves they had previously terrorized. I expected them to run, to escape while they still could. Instead, with a collective growl, they abandoned their initial prey and redirected their aggression toward me.

I could feel their fear as they charged, their movements disjointed and desperate. They had clearly underestimated the strength and ferocity that came with my reputation. I met their advance head-on, the ground shaking beneath my paws as I collided with the first rogue. My jaws closed around his thigh, the sensation of tearing flesh and the rogue’s strangled cry filling my senses.

One rogue was particularly tenacious, his eyes locked onto me with a mix of rage and fear. He lunged at me with a ferocity that matched my own, but I was ready. We clashed with a series of vicious snaps and slashing claws, the fight a blur of motion and sound. The rogue was strong, but I was stronger.

I growled viciously, lunging another attack on the only rogue left standing. When I was in that state, I let Crystal take the lead, and she was relentless. Sometimes, I wondered if Crystal was the product of all my pent-up rage. She never gave up.

It didn’t take long for them to retreat. They obviously couldn’t win. I released the one I had in my grasp, tossing him carelessly at their feet. They scrambled chaotically, abandoning their fallen companions and the werewolves they had attacked so ruthlessly.

As the last of the rogues vanished into the darkness, the werewolves I had rescued began to emerge from their hiding spots. Their eyes, still wide with the remnants of fear, softened as they took in the scene before them.

One of the werewolves, a large male with a scar running down his face, stepped forward. His voice was rough but sincere as he spoke. “You saved us. We owe you everything. But we don’t even know your name. Please, tell us who you are so we can repay you properly.”

The others echoed his sentiment, their voices filled with gratitude and curiosity. Their eyes were earnest, their faces reflecting the relief and admiration they felt. I could see the longing for a connection, a way to acknowledge the person who had come to their rescue.

But I hesitated. Revealing my identity could have consequences I wasn’t willing to face. My father’s rules were strict, and I had already pushed the boundaries by venturing out without his explicit permission. The thought of his retribution was enough to make me shiver. I had to maintain the anonymity that had kept me safe for so long.

“I don’t seek repayment,” I said, my voice low and steady despite the wave of emotions roiling within me. “It’s my duty to protect those in need. You don’t need to know who I am.”

The werewolves’ faces fell slightly. They wanted to honor me, to give thanks in a way that felt meaningful to them, but I had to remain a shadow, who appeared only when needed.

But before I could disappear into the night, a sudden burst of conversation caught my attention. The werewolves were speaking in hushed tones, their voices urgent and laced with concern.

“Those rogues are wanted by Flame Sword,” one of them said, his voice trembling. “There’s a huge reward for anyone who captures them. Flame Sword is offering a fortune to anyone who brings them in.”

My ears perked up at the mention of Flame Sword. I’d heard about the pack briefly. A formidable pack with resources and reach that extended far beyond that of my father’s. Still, I didn’t care about the reward. It meant nothing to me.

“You should care,” my wolf said to me. I shook my head, shifting back to human form once I was alone and putting on my disguise. Just as the mask settled on my face, Crystal piped up again, “This reward could be good for us.”

I shrugged, not wanting to listen to what she had to say. Flamesword was a prominent pack, and any involvement with them would come with a load of attention that I neither needed nor wanted to deal with. “Just drop it.”

“No.” I paused at the gentle nature of her voice. I’d never known Crystal to react like this. “Don’t you see? This is a chance to be free. If we capture these rogues, the reward will give us enough to finally leave the Green Forest.”

Crystal was right. I craved my freedom more than anything in the world. What if this was a chance to get away from all the abuse? From all the hatred? From Grace? If it meant I wouldn’t have to look at the hatred in my father’s face, or endure the abuse from Grace…

Still, I hesitated. I was worried about this plan for our freedom falling apart, and then my family would know what I’d been up to.

But wasn’t my freedom worth it? Wouldn’t it be worth it if I got to live a free and happy life? That was all I ever wanted.

I made up my mind. “Let’s do it,” I said, hoisting my bag over my shoulders. “It’s now or never.”

Finding the stronghold of the rogues wasn’t a challenge. Over the years, I had tracked their movements and studied their habits, making it relatively easy to pinpoint their base of operations. As I approached, the fortress came into view—a hulking structure of weathered stone.

I snuck through the underbrush, my senses attuned to every rustle and whisper of the night. I spotted a rogue patrolling the perimeter. The element of surprise was on my side. I waited for the perfect moment, then pounced with a swift and silent strike. I subdued him quickly, his struggles muffled as I efficiently bound him and slipped into his uniform.

The rogue’s clothing was rough and unkempt, but it fit well enough. I adjusted the tattered cloak and the heavy leather armor, ensuring I looked the part. The disguise was essential; I couldn’t risk being discovered.

I approached the fortress with a calculated swagger, adopting the rogue’s familiar gait. The guards stationed at the entrance were more focused on their duties than on scrutinizing their peers.

The fortress’s interior was a maze of dimly lit corridors and shadowy alcoves. The air was thick with the stench of damp stone and sweat. I managed to slip past several guards, listening carefully, tuning into the conversations and movements around me.

As I moved stealthily through the fortress, I stumbled upon a large, dimly lit chamber. The sight that met me was both shocking and deeply unsettling. The room was filled with she-wolves, their eyes wide with fear and despair. They huddled together, their chains clinking softly with every movement. The sight of their shackled forms, their bodies marked by the rough treatment they had endured, was a stark reminder of the brutality of the rogues.

I crouched behind a stack of crates, my heart pounding as I listened to the conversations of the rogues. “We’ll sell them to other alphas,” one rogue said, his voice dripping with malice. “They’ll be traded like property. We’ll get a fortune for them—money, resources, everything we need.”

The thought of these wolves being used as mere commodities was nauseating. My hands clenched into fists, but I forced myself to stay hidden. The rogues’ discussion continued, their focus now shifting to their grievances against Flame Sword.

“Flame Sword,” one of the rogues spat, his tone full of bitterness. “They keep striking us, killing us. They’re ruthless. The Alpha King is even more cold-blooded and cruel than we are.”

The more I heard about Flame Sword and their Alpha King, the more I felt a chill run down my spine. They said he was not just the leader of Flame Sword but also the king of all werewolves. His reputation as a cold-blooded killer who relished in the act of taking lives was unsettling. The thought of such a person being the central figure in this ongoing conflict made the stakes feel even higher.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a huge man, with a long, jagged scar on his face walked into the room. His hand rested firmly on the sword on his hip as his eyes swept over the other rogues. “What are you doing wasting away? Come with me, now!”

The rogues scrambled to their feet, mumbling their agreements. Whoever this man was, he was someone awfully important.

Suddenly, a pair of eyes met mine, widening in shock. I sucked in a breath, preparing to fight for my life.

“Didn’t you hear what Master Draco said? Get up, now!”

I eased up, nodding slowly and rising to my feet. My instincts kicked in, and I joined the throng, carefully maintaining my guise among the group.

We navigated through the twisting corridors of the fortress, the heavy footsteps of the rogues echoing off the stone walls. Finally, we arrived at the dungeon—a grim place where the very essence of despair seemed to linger in the air.

Draco, the head rogue, pushed open the heavy iron door, and we filed inside, the dim light from the torches casting shadows on the walls. My heart pounded as I followed the other rogues into the cell area, my eyes scanning the dark, cramped spaces for any sign of trouble or clues.

Then I saw him.