MOONBOUND SECRETS

CHAPTER TWO: THE ATTACK AND THE AFTERMATH

The wolf’s weight slammed into me like a storm. My breath shot out of my chest as its body crashed against mine, forcing me into the dirt.

I tried to scream, but the sound broke into a gasp. The stench of earth and fur filled my nose, sharp and wild. Its growl rolled through me, deeper than thunder, vibrating against my ribs.

Its golden eyes glowed inches from my face.

I thrashed, nails clawing at the ground, heels digging into the earth. “Get off me!” I choked out, but my voice was swallowed by its snarling breath.

Its jaws opened, teeth flashing white in the dark.

I flung an arm up to shield myself. Pain exploded through me as its fangs sank into my flesh. A scream ripped from my throat. Hot blood rushed down my skin, soaking into the dirt.

It didn’t let go.

I kicked, struggled, every muscle burning. The world blurred, my heartbeat pounding louder than the growl. My vision sparked with white.

And then, suddenly—

It released me.

I tumbled to the ground, gasping, clutching my arm. My eyes blurred with tears, but I saw it—saw the wolf step back, muscles quivering, breath ragged as if it too fought something inside.

Our eyes locked again.

It could have killed me. Easily.

But it didn’t.

Instead, it gave a sound I didn’t understand—not a growl, not a howl, something caught between—and then it turned.

In a heartbeat, it vanished into the trees, swallowed by shadow.

I lay trembling in the dirt, blood seeping between my fingers. The pain was unbearable, a fire tearing up my arm and spreading through my chest.

I tried to rise. My legs gave out. The ground tilted and spun.

And then—blackness.

I woke to warmth. A blanket tucked around me. The faint smell of herbs. My eyelids felt heavy, my body weak, but I forced them open.

I was home.

The fire crackled low in the hearth. My mother sat nearby, her back to me, stirring something in a small bowl.

Relief washed over me so suddenly I nearly cried. “Mother?” My voice was hoarse.

She spun, eyes wide. “Aria!” She rushed to my side, pressing a hand to my forehead, another to my bandaged arm. “You’re awake.”

Confusion tangled with fear. “How… how did I get here?”

Her lips tightened. She glanced toward the window, then back at me. “Someone brought you.”

“Someone?”

“A man.” Her voice shook. “I didn’t recognize him. Tall, dark hair… he left before I could ask questions. He said only one thing: She’ll live.”

My heart stumbled. A stranger had carried me home. But who?

I looked down at the bandage wrapped around my arm. Even through the cloth, I felt the wound burning, a steady throb that wouldn’t stop.

I remembered the eyes. The teeth. The moment they tore into me.

My stomach lurched.

“It was the forest, wasn’t it?” my mother whispered. Her eyes, sharp and fierce, searched mine.

I couldn’t answer. My throat closed.

Her hand trembled as she touched my cheek. “You shouldn’t have gone near it. I told you. I warned you—” Her voice broke. She turned away, shoulders shaking.

I wanted to comfort her, to tell her I was sorry, but I couldn’t. The words stuck. My body felt foreign, my mind drowning in the memory of golden eyes.

The fever began that night.

It came in waves, heat flooding through me until I was drenched in sweat, then leaving me shivering cold. My dreams twisted into nightmares—shadows chasing me, teeth tearing into me again and again.

And always, the eyes. Watching.

Days passed. Or maybe only hours. Time blurred. My body felt alive in ways it shouldn’t—my heartbeat too loud, my senses too sharp. I smelled every herb in the room, heard every creak of the cottage walls, felt every movement of air against my skin.

Something was wrong with me.

Something was changing.

The fever finally broke with the rise of the full moon. I woke in the night, gasping, my skin burning from the inside out. My mother slept in a chair by the fire, exhausted.

I tried to stay still. To breathe through it.

But the pain grew worse. My body arched, every muscle seizing. My vision blurred, doubled. My fingernails dug into the blanket, tearing it. My bones… shifted.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t human.

I stumbled out of bed, legs unsteady, crashing against the doorframe. My mother stirred, mumbling in her sleep, but didn’t wake.

I pushed outside, desperate for air.

The moon hung high and silver, flooding the world in cold light. The village lay quiet, everyone locked in their homes.

I staggered to the fence, clutching my arm. My breath came ragged.

And then—

A sound rose from deep in my chest. Not a scream. Not a cry. Something else.

A howl.

Low. Broken. But mine.

The sound terrified me.

And yet, part of me thrilled at it.

I stumbled back inside before anyone could hear, collapsing onto the floor. My body trembled, my heart racing too fast.

I didn’t know what was happening. But I knew one thing for certain.

The wolf hadn’t just bitten me.

It had changed me.

The days that followed blurred into one long ache. My body felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore—like something else had taken root inside and was slowly pushing me out.

The wound on my arm healed far too quickly, closing into an ugly scar within a week. My mother kept fussing over it, but I noticed the way her eyes lingered on me when she thought I wasn’t looking. She was afraid. Of me.

And maybe she was right to be.

Because things were happening—things I couldn’t explain.

I could hear conversations from the far end of the square. I could smell bread baking two houses down, as if it were in my own kitchen. And at night, when the moon rose, my chest tightened with an ache that felt less like pain and more like hunger.

Not for food. For something else.

Something wild.

It was three nights later when everything changed again.

I had gone outside to fetch water. The bucket slipped from my hand halfway to the well, clattering across the dirt. My knees hit the ground.

It started in my bones—an ache, then a sharp snap that made me cry out. I doubled over, clutching my chest, but the pain spread too fast. My fingers twisted, my nails lengthening. My spine burned as though fire raced up it.

“No, no, no,” I gasped. I pressed my forehead against the earth, trying to hold myself together. My breath came ragged, too fast.

And then my jaw shifted. My teeth sharpened. My skin prickled, stretched.

The world tilted. My vision flooded with color and light I’d never seen before. Every detail was sharp—every leaf, every grain of dirt. My ears rang with sounds of the night: a mouse scratching, an owl’s wings cutting the air.

And through it all, my heartbeat thundered like a drum.

I couldn’t fight it.

The scream that tore out of me wasn’t a scream at all. It was a snarl.

The world bent—and I was no longer on two feet.

Panic surged through me. I looked down, but there were no hands. Paws. Massive, clawed, covered in fur. My chest heaved, but the sound was a growl, deep and alien.

I stumbled to the water’s surface at the well, peering over the edge.

A wolf stared back.

Golden eyes. Not mine. And yet… they were.

Terror ripped through me. I staggered back, knocking the bucket aside, claws scraping the earth.

And then—footsteps.

“Aria?”

Lila’s voice.

No. Not her. Not now.

I swung toward the sound just as she stepped into the clearing, carrying a lantern. The light flared across me, illuminating every inch of my monstrous shape.

Her eyes widened. The lantern nearly slipped from her fingers.

She whispered my name again, but this time it was trembling, full of fear.

I backed away, claws digging into the dirt, heart pounding.

No, no, no. Please don’t let it be her who sees me like this.

The hunger inside me rose. Stronger now. Sharper. The scent of her fear filled my nostrils, intoxicating and terrible.

“Aria?” she whispered again. Her voice cracked. “What… what are you?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came. Only a snarl.

Her face went pale. She stumbled back.

And I felt it—that wild, terrible urge to chase. To lunge. To bite.

My muscles coiled, ready to spring.

I fought it, dug my claws into the ground, trying to hold myself still.

But the wolf inside me howled, furious, hungry.

And for the first time since the bite, I wasn’t sure I could stop it.