Perfect Luna, Double Crowned

Chapter 25 – Practice Falls

The next three days tasted like waiting.

We didn’t move the packs in one mass. That would’ve been suicide. Instead, we bled them toward the quarry in trickles—“extended patrols,” “joint training,” “checking old borders.” Wolves who’d once snapped at each other over a shared stream now learned to spar without drawing real blood.

Rowan called it “desensitization.” Kade called it “not punching Stormclaw in the face 101.”

Tonight’s session was on the rim road.

The quarry fence loomed ahead, a rusting skeleton of chain‑link and warning signs. KEEP OUT. DANGER. UNSTABLE GROUND. Someone had spray‑painted a crude ghost over one, dripping white.

“Subtle,” I muttered.

Nyra’s online campaign had caught on faster than I’d expected. Kids loved a haunted hole. Luckily, they also loved obeying ominous “no trespassing unless you want to die” TikToks.

So far, the rim was blessedly empty of humans.

“Eyes up,” I called in Wolvish, stalking the edge of the group. “You fall in now, I’m not climbing after you.”

Finn, Jace, and three Moonfang teens picked their way along the narrow path just inside the fence. Liora and Taryn flanked them, shadows at either shoulder. Below, the Pit yawned—black stone dropping away in jagged steps, scattered with old machinery and scrub trees.

Stormclaw and Moonfang wolves ringed the rim in staggered pairs. No one liked being this close to so much emptiness.

“Feels wrong,” Finn muttered, peering over. “Hole with no water.”

“Some holes don’t want filling,” Liora said. “They want people to remember not to step where they can’t see the bottom.”

“Poetic,” Jace said. “Also bleak. Ten out of ten.”

“Stop rating trauma,” I said. “Practice.”

He sighed. “Yes, Luna.”

We’d rigged a crude system along the rim: ropes anchored to old fence posts and rock bolts, loops big enough for paws and hands. If we had to get down fast—or haul someone up—we needed bodies who could do it without panicking.

“Pair up,” I ordered. “One Stormclaw, one Moonfang. One goes over, one belays. Slow. If anyone ends up dangling upside‑down, I’m laughing before I help.”

They shuffled, grumbling. Finn ended up with a Moonfang girl his age—Risa, sharp‑eyed and quiet. Jace with Kade. Even that felt like progress.

Rylan and Caelan watched from a short distance, both in human form tonight. High ground. Hands free. Alphas learning to let others take the first risks.

“On my count,” I said. “Three, two, one—go.”

Ropes creaked. Boots scraped. Paws shifted to hands as some dropped partway in wolf, partway in skin. They moved awkwardly at first, then smoother, muscle memory building itself as they went.

Finn lowered himself over the edge, jaw tight. Risa controlled the rope with steady hands, muscles bunching under her coat.

“You’re doing fine,” I called. “Pick three points—two hands, one foot. Then trade. Don’t stare at the bottom.”

“What bottom?” Finn squeaked.

“Exactly,” Jace said. “Terrifying void, ten out of ten, would not fall.”

Kade smacked his shoulder. “Less commentary, more grip.”

Liora’s voice cut through, calm and firm. “If you feel the rope slip, shout. Do not pretend it didn’t happen. Pride gets you killed faster than gravity.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I paced the rim, checking knots, listening to breath. The quarry breathed back—cool air rising from depths, old rock remembering old screams.

“You hate this place,” Caelan said quietly when I passed him.

I didn’t jump. Much. “Astute.”

“Why come back?” he asked. “You could’ve told us where to stand and stayed in the trees.”

“Because the last time I ran from Ashridge,” I said, “I did it while it burned. I’m not doing that twice.”

Rylan’s gaze flicked over. “She’s expecting that,” he said. “Draven. That you’ll flinch at the edges and she can use the middle.”

“She’s expecting me to be twelve,” I said. “I’m not.”

Below, Finn slipped.

It wasn’t much—just a boot skidding on loose gravel, a momentary flail. But his weight jerked the rope hard. Risa’s grip slid.

“Stop!” I snapped.

She dropped her weight back, heels digging into the dirt. The rope went taut, humming. Finn swung against the rock, boots scrambling.

“I’ve got you,” Risa hissed between her teeth.

Finn’s breath came fast and high. “I—I—”

“Look at me,” I said, dropping to my knees by the edge. His face, pale and wild, turned up. “Count to three. Out loud. Then move your right hand. Only your right hand. Nothing else.”

“One, two, three,” he gasped.

“Good. Right hand up. There. Feel that notch? Hook into it. Now left foot. Slow.”

It wasn’t pretty, but he did it. Inch by inch, he found his rhythm again, Risa feeding rope as steadily as her shaking arms allowed.

When he finally reached the lip, he rolled onto his back and lay there, panting at the sky.

“Fun,” Jace said, hanging two ledges down. “Can we go again?”

“No,” I said. “Switch. Belayers go down. Climbers haul. Then we’re done.”

As they traded places, Caelan crouched beside Finn, ruffling his hair. “You panicked,” he said. “Good. Now you know what it feels like before it happens for real.”

Finn groaned. “Is this… character building?”

“Yes,” three of us said at once.

Rylan’s attention cut past us, up the treeline.

“Movement,” he said, voice suddenly flat. “Top of the access road. Two cars. Human.”

My stomach iced.

“Nyra’s posts working too well?” I asked.

“Wrong kind of car,” he said. “No music. No laughter.”

I straightened, senses stretching. Engine rumble. Doors creaking. Muted voices—too low and even for drunk kids.

“Positions,” I snapped. “Everyone off the wall. Now. Slow and quiet.”

Wolves moved, quick and controlled. Ropes hissed as they hauled each other up, claws and fingers scrambling. Liora cut excess lines with ruthless speed.

Caelan’s eyes met mine. “Inside the fence or out?”

“Inside,” I said. “If they’re Draven’s, we want them between us and the drop. If they’re not, we want to be ghosts.”

Rylan’s scent sharpened. “They’re not drunk,” he said. “And they smell like metal.”

Snares. Guns. The same sour tang from the road and creek.

My heart picked up, not with panic this time, but with a vicious, focused anger.

Three days of practice. Four nights of planning. A lifetime of running from the rot that had chewed through my first home.

Maybe the Pit wasn’t waiting for us on Draven’s schedule after all.

Maybe the first move was already crawling up the access road, thinking the quarry still belonged to her.

“Change of lesson,” I said, low and certain. “We’re done practicing falls.”

Kade’s blade flashed as he tucked it away, eyes gone hard.

“About time,” he muttered.

“Let’s see,” I added, “how they like being the ones standing on bad ground.”