Lunar Shadows

The Rogue Pack

The East Side of the city had nothing in common with those neon-lit streets that Elena has gotten used to moving within. Here, the buildings were old, weathered stone facades, and the air smelled thick like earth and dampness, as if the city had forgotten this section of itself. Perhaps below the surface, there was still a pulse of something ancient and powerful.

And now Elena felt that weight of Rafe's presence beside her as they walked through these lonely, forgotten streets, their footsteps muffled by silt and spongy, silent yet quick. This was where the dirty pack was said to dwell, according to Rafe's account. But to him, it was deep inside the East End, where they ran to hide from the Conclave and the Order.

What did he expect? Trusting strangers was a luxury she couldn't enjoy, especially those who were rumored to live on the edge of a war.

The narrow alley they went into was almost sinfully quiet, except for the rustle of movement sometimes. Elena's instincts were on the highest alert, every nerve of her body screaming caution. A thick tension in the air held within it the scent of wolves and something darker. She could almost feel them watching her but none made their presence known.

Rafe led her to an old-barren warehouse at the end of the alley. Its metal door hung rusted like it had never been opened, its windows had long been engaged with planks of wood and the only light slipped outside from between the planks. Wordlessly, Rafe reached for that door and pushed it open without any apparent effort.

From outside, the thick, dank smell of wet fur mingled with something metallic. Slowly, Elena's eyes adjusted to what little light there was, exposing an enormous open room filled with crates, barrels, and old furniture. The shadows undulated with a few moving figures, but only one of them came out when Rafe called.

A tall man whose dark hair fell about sharp features stepped forward. His narrowing eyes took in Rafe and Elena. He looked like a man who had seen too much showing on his body faint scars- the evidence remained of battles fought and survived.

"You are late," the man growled, voice gravelly. "And you've brought company."

Rafe wasn't going to flinch. "She's with me. Elena's not just anyone. She's one of us."

His gaze flickered over her again, lingering one moment more than necessary on her. There might have been suspicion in it, but then perhaps also something more-could be curiosity.

"Rogue werewolves don't usually get sucked into Conclave politics, so why do we care about her?" He ended his words, dripping them with skepticism.

Rafe stepped closer. "Because they're coming for all of us, the Conclave, the Order-they will not cease until they catch all of us But Elena has what they want. She's not just a wolf, and they know it."

The man did not answer at once, but looked keenly at Elena as if weighing her worth. Then after a moment that seemed an eternity, he nodded.

He sighed at last and said in just the most grudging voice, "Okay, but you have to prove yourself. No one gets a free lunch in here. It's not so easy to trust."

Elena felt the flicker of disquiet with his words. She had trusted Rafe, but now she had to prove herself to these strangers, too. The rogue pack was indeed her best hope, but she wasn't going to walk into their home unprepared.

"I am not here to prove anything," she said, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her stomach. "I am here to stop this war before it starts. And if you want to survive, you will help me."

He considered her words for a while before he spoke again. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. The real question is, can you back it up?"

He turned away and waved for them to follow without waiting for a reply. Elena shot a glance toward Rafe, who gave her the tiniest nod, a blank look on his face. Whether it was meant as supporting or disapproving, she couldn't tell; all she knew was that she had to follow him.

He led them farther into the warehouse, where they could see a ragged few rogue werewolves gathering around a randomly arranged table fire, some perched on old couches, others standing quietly exchanging murmurs. There was something electric about this little room, a sense of commingling forged by necessity rather than choice.

In the middle of them was a woman with a very striking silver hair and possessed piercing pale eyes that gleamed dimly in the low light. She looked as if she commanded, and the instant Elena saw her, she knew that this lady was somebody pretty important.

The man spoke low to the silver-haired woman, and his words pierced through Elena's unstrained hearing. She watched as the woman turned her eyes toward them; those eyes pried into Elena's face with an intensity that made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

“Elena, this is Lyra,” Rafe said, stepping forward. “She’s the leader of the rogue pack. If anyone can help us, it’s her.”

Lyra considered Elena for a long time, her features inscrutable. Finally, she spoke.

"You have come seeking help," began Lyra, her voice placid but so heavily laced with authority. "But why should we stand with you? We have fought for our survival long enough, and we do not owe anything to anyone-most particularly the Conclave or the Order."

Elena stared back at her, feeling the drag of condensing words over her like a very heavy cloak. "Because if they do not, there is nothing left worth survival. The world is changing, and so must we. I do not ask for allegiance, merely for your aid. The war descending on us will consume all-humans and supernatural beings alike. If we don't fight together, we all fall."

She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment, Elena thought she even saw a flicker of something, recognition perhaps. But it was gone perhaps because it had taken so little time to go.

"You speak like someone who understands consequences," Lyra said slowly. "But words alone will not win you this fight. You'll have to prove yourself in more than one way."

Elena inhaled deeply, fully aware that the challenge had just begun. Already, she knew that the rogue pack would not accept her easily, but there was no other way. The war was coming, and whether they wanted to or not, they would face it together.

"We are ready," Elena said, steadying herself. "Show us what we need to do."