Moon Prophecy

Chapter 13- Shadows That Hunt.

The mountains did not stay quiet for long. By dawn, the wind had shifted, and with it… So had the hunt. Beta Nick stood at the northern ridge, his boots pressed deep into the snow as his sharp gaze scanned the land below. The storm had erased most of the tracks. Most, but not all. One of the warriors crouched nearby, fingers brushing lightly over the frozen ground.

“They came through here,” he said. “Before the worst of the storm hit.

Nick didn’t respond immediately. His eyes followed the faint trail-barely visible, broken, but there. The old man had been careful, too careful for someone his age. Nick’s jaw tightened slightly.

“He knows these mountains,” he muttered.

Another warrior stepped forward. “The scent disappears past the ridge.”

Nick’s gaze flicked toward the distance, toward the ravine. Of course. A slow humourless smile curved his lips.

“Smart,” he said. “Using the river to mask their trail.”

He turned sharply. “Spread out, follow the waterline. If they crossed, we’ll find where they came up.”

The warriors hesitated. “The ice won’t hold everywhere,” one warned.

Nick’s expression didn’t change. “Then don’t fall.”

They moved without another word because disobedience was worse than the cold. The ice groaned beneath their weight. Step. Pause. Step. The river beneath was alive… dark water rushing beneath a thin, fragile shell.

Nick moved ahead of the others, his balance steady, his senses sharp. He could feel it now, faint but there, the scent, not just the old man… the child, still alive. His eyes darkened.

“So,” he muttered. “You survived.”

Behind him, a warrior slipped slightly, the ice cracking beneath his foot. He froze. Nick didn’t even turn.

“Move,” he said coldly.

The warriors scrambled forward, heart pounding. The crack sealed into silence behind them but the message was clear, there would be no second chances.

Inside the hidden sanctuary, the fire burned brighter than before. The woman moved with quiet precision, grinding herbs, preparing what little she had. The child lay wrapped in thick furs, her small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm now. Stronger, but still fragile. The elder stood near the entrance, his posture rigid, listening, waiting.

“You feel it,” the woman said without looking up.

It wasn’t a question. The elder nodded.

“They’re closer.”

A brief silence followed.

“How long,” she asked.

“Not long enough.”

The woman’s hands stilled for just a moment, then continued. “Then we prepare.”

The elder looked at the child. So small, so unaware of the storm that had already begun to follow her.

“They won’t stop,” he said quietly. “Not while she lives.”

The woman’s gaze lifted, sharp and unwavering.

“Then we make sure she lives long enough to matter.”

The words hung in the air. Heavy. Real. The elder exhaled slowly.

“There’s a path,” he said. “East of here. Hidden. It leads beyond the mountains… beyond there reach.”

The woman frowned slightly. “No one has used that path in years.”

“That’s why it will work.”

Her eyes flickered to the child.

“And the journey.”

The elder’s expression hardened.

“It won’t be easy.”

Silence.

“It doesn’t have to be,” she said. “It just has to be possible.”

Back at the Bloodmoon pack, the training field rang with sounds of combat. Wood against wood, grunts, orders barked across the open space. Prince Cassian stood among the others, a wooden blade clenched in his hand.

“Focus.” The trainer snapped.

Cassian moved automatically, blocking a strike from his opponent, but his mind wasn’t there. It hadn’t been since yesterday.

“You’re distracted,” the older boy in front of him said, circling. “That’s a mistake.”

Cassian didn’t respond, the boy lunged, Cassian reacted a second too slow… The strike knocked the blade from his hand. It hit the ground with a dull thud.

“Again,” the trainer ordered.

Cassian didn’t move, his gaze had drifted, beyond the field, beyond the walls toward the mountains. That same feeling crept in again, stronger now. Pulling at something deep inside him.

“Cassian.”

The trainer’s voice was sharper this time. He blinked, snapping back to the moment.

“Yes, sir.”

But as he bent to pick up his blade… a thought surfaced, unwanted, unshakable, what if she’s still alive. His grip tightened around the wood, and for the first time… He considered the possibility that everything he had been told… might not be the truth.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the frozen land. Nick stopped abruptly, his hand lifted slightly, signalling the others to halt. He crouched, brushing snow aside, there, a mark, faint, but undeniable. A footprint, fresh, his smile returned. Cold. Satisfied.

“They’re close,” he said.

The warriors shifted behind him, tension rising. Nick stood slowly, his gaze locking onto the distant mountainside. On something barely visible… A structure, hidden, but not enough.

“There,” he said.

And just like that… The hunt found its target.

Inside the sanctuary, the child stirred, her small fingers curling slightly as her eyes fluttered beneath closed lids. The woman noticed immediately.

“She’s waking more often,” she said softly.

The elder didn’t respond, his attention was fixed on the door, on the world beyond it.

“They’re here,” he said.

No hesitation, no doubt. The woman moved instantly, wrapping the child securely in thick furs.

“Then we go. Now.”

The elder nodded, he crossed the room in two quick steps, pulling aside a worn rug in the corner. Beneath it, a wooden hatch, hidden, forgotten, until now. He pulled it open, revealing a narrow passage descending into darkness. The woman stepped froward, the child held close to her chest.

She paused only once, glancing back at the small room, at the life they were leaving behind. She disappeared into the passage, elder Michael followed. The hatch closed above them, sealing the sanctuary in silence once more.

Moments later the door burst open. Cold air rushed in as Nick stepped inside, his warriors close behind. His gaze swept the room, the fire, the blankets. The unmistakable warmth of life that had been there just moments ago. But now… gone.

Nick’s expression darkened. He stepped further inside, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. His eyes narrowed.

“They were here.”

One of the warriors moved toward the hearth. “The fire’s still warm.”

Nick’s jaw tightened, his gaze shifted slowly across the room, calculating, searching, missing nothing, but finding nothing. For a long moment, he said nothing.

“Search everything.” His voice was low now. Dangerous. Because this was not over. Not even close.

Beneath the surface deep below the sanctuary the passage stretched into darkness, narrow, cold, endless. The woman moved carefully, one hand against the wall, the other holding the child. Behind her, Michael followed, sealing the hatch above them completely. No light, no sound, only the faint echo of their footsteps, and the quiet, steady breathing of the child.

“They’re right above us,” the woman whispered.”

“I know.”

“Will this path hold.”

The elder’s voice was steady.

“It has to.”

Because there was no turning back, not anymore.

Above ground, Nick stood in the centre of the empty sanctuary. Still. Silent. Thinking. Then slowly, he smiled.

“They’re running,” he said.

One of the warriors frowned. “We’ve lost the trail.”

Nick shook his head slightly.

“No,” he said

His eyes gleamed with something dark. Something certain. “We’ve just begun.”

Far beneath the mountain, the child slept, unaware, unbroken, alive. And above. The shadows followed. Because the hunt had changed now, it was no longer about finishing what had been started, it was about something else entirely. Something deeper. Something inevitable. The chase had begun.