The Human Luna

Giant Wolf

(Toni's POV)

I stayed frozen, my back pressed against the damp stone of the shack, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I didn't dare move, barely even dare to breathe, as I stared down at the glowing screen of my phone. The perimeter alarms had remained silent—no pings, no alerts—which meant whoever was out there had managed to bypass the sensors or were simply moving in a way that didn't trigger the tripwires. But the motion-activated cameras were a different story.

On the screen, a grainy, night-vision feed flickered to life. My breath hitched. Emerging from the gloom of the trees was a creature that looked more like a myth than an animal. It was a giant wolf, easily the size of a small bear, with thick, pale blond fur that seemed to catch what little light remained in the forest. Beside the beast walked two men, their strides easy and confident, as if they were strolling through a city park rather than the most haunted stretch of land in the country.

They weren't just walking; they were talking. Because of the way the sound carried through the thin, decaying walls of the ranger station and the high-sensitivity mics on my gear, I could hear them clearly.

"I don't get it. They sent us out here... into The Scar like we're just pack members. This is stupid," one of them said. Although I couldn't see who exactly spoke, his voice had a strange quality to it—not entirely serious, yet laced with a genuine frustration that made him sound exhausted.

"It's not like we're the future leadership of the pack. Nope. Nothing like that," came the second voice. The delivery was so perfectly deadpan, so utterly devoid of emotion, that a bubble of hysterical laughter threatened to erupt from my throat. I clamped my hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut, praying that my body wouldn't betray me.

The tension in the air shifted. Suddenly, a low, vibrating growl ripped through the silence, a sound that felt like it was shaking the very foundation of the shack. It wasn't a bark or a snap; it was a warning, deep and primal.

"Easy there, Pik," the first man said, his tone shifting to one of soothing reassurance.

Pik? I thought, my eyebrows knitting together. What kind of name is that for a monster? It sounded almost... cute. Which was absurd, considering the creature on my screen looked capable of snapping a human in half without breaking a sweat.

The conversation continued, the men pausing at the edge of the clearing, just a few dozen yards from where I was crouching in the dark.

"You know as well as we do, we don't like this. Neither does Adam," the man continued, his voice softening. "Honestly though, you did do good on Kael. Even if they may never follow your idealistic ways... they'll follow out of respect."

"Or leave for another pack," the deadpan voice added.

I mentally labeled him 'Mr. Bored.' He sounded like the kind of person who found the apocalypse tedious.

"Ronan!" the first man snapped, though there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Rufus?" Ronan replied, the name finally putting a face to the voice.

I watched the screen as the three of them began to move again, their figures receding into the oppressive darkness of The Scar. Their voices grew fainter, drifting away with the wind until the only sound left was the distant, rhythmic thud of paws on earth. I didn't breathe for a long time. I stayed pinned to that corner, my muscles locked in a state of high alert, until I was absolutely certain they were gone.

When I finally let out my breath, it came as a violent, shuddering gasp. It felt as if my lungs had been compressed for an hour and were now trying to burst through my chest. I slumped against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor, my legs feeling like jelly.

For almost half an hour, I didn't move. I just sat there in the dark, listening to the silence return to the forest. Eventually, the adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a lingering, humming curiosity. I crawled back toward the center of the room, where the fire was still crackling in the hearth. It continued to burn steadily, indifferent to the fact that I had just nearly had a heart attack.

As I stared into the flames, a thought drifted into my mind, unbidden and completely ridiculous. I wonder how soft that wolf's fur was.

I froze, my eyes widening. Wait... what the hell am I thinking? I practically shouted at myself internally. Get it together, Toni! You are here to investigate a haunted war zone, not play with a giant blond wolf named Pik!

I shook my head vigorously, trying to clear the image of the massive creature from my mind. He was a predator. He was part of the New Moon pack—the same pack Aria had warned me was anti-human. The fact that he had a "cute" name didn't change the fact that he could eat me for breakfast.

Sighing, I reached for my phone and plugged it into the heavy-duty battery pack, ensuring I'd have enough power for the cameras and my GPS tomorrow. I moved with a new sense of urgency, checking the shutters on the windows one more time. I made sure the door was sealed as tight as I could manage; I knew a wooden door wouldn't stop a determined lycan, but it gave me a psychological sense of security—a thin line between me and the night.

I finally slid into my sleeping bag, pulling the fabric up to my chin. The room was warm from the fire, but a persistent chill seemed to cling to the corners of the shack. As I lay my head down on the pillow, the distant sounds of the forest returned.

Long, haunting howls echoed through the trees, bouncing off the ruins of the ranger station. Normally, that sound would have terrified me, but tonight, it only made me feel more grateful for the crumbling stone walls around me. I closed my eyes, the image of the blond wolf flashing behind my eyelids one last time.

I drifted off into a heavy, dreamless sleep, but as the hours passed, the darkness of my mind shifted. In my dreams, the oppressive weight of The Scar vanished. I found myself in a sun-drenched meadow, the grass a vibrant, impossible green. And there, waiting for me, was Pik. He wasn't growling or hunting; he was simply there, his blond fur glowing in the light. In the dream, I didn't feel fear. I reached out, my fingers sinking into that impossibly soft fur, and for the first time since crossing the border, I felt a strange, inexplicable sense of peace.