REAWAKENING THE ALPHA MOON

The first time Eleanor Hart saw the wolf, she thought she was dreaming. It stood at the edge of the forest, almost completely hidden among the ancient oaks behind her grandmother's cottage. Its fur was darker than the night around it, and its eyes seemed to catch the moonlight. Golden. Unnaturally golden. Eleanor stopped walking. The basket hanging from her arm suddenly felt much heavier. She had been told never to go into the woods after sunset. Her grandmother had repeated the warning so many times that Eleanor had stopped listening to it. But tonight was different. Tonight, Eleanor had heard someone calling her name. "Eleanor." She had thought it was her grandmother. Then the voice had come again. "Eleanor..." Soft. Almost frightened. So she had followed it. Now, standing beneath the silver moon, she wished she hadn't. The wolf didn't move. Neither did she. For several seconds, they simply stared at each other. Then something strange happened. The wolf lowered its head. Not like an animal preparing to attack. Like it was bowing. Eleanor's heart began pounding. "What are you?" The wolf lifted its head. A low sound escaped its throat. Eleanor stepped backward. A branch snapped beneath her shoe. The wolf suddenly turned toward the deeper forest. And ran. "Wait!" The word escaped before she could stop herself. She followed. Only for a few steps. Then she remembered who she was. Or rather, who she wasn't. She wasn't brave. She wasn't adventurous. She was a twenty-year-old university student who had returned to the small village of Blackwood after her mother died. She was supposed to spend the summer helping her grandmother and deciding what to do with the rest of her life. She was definitely not supposed to chase enormous wolves through forests. So Eleanor turned around. And that's when she saw the man. He stood several metres away. Tall. Dark-haired. Dressed in a black coat that looked completely out of place in the middle of the forest. He was watching her. Eleanor froze. "Who are you?" The man didn't answer. Moonlight fell across his face. He looked about twenty-four, perhaps twenty-five. His features were sharp but tired, as though he hadn't slept properly in years. There was a small scar near his eyebrow. His eyes were grey. And strangely familiar. "You're Eleanor Hart," he said. Her stomach tightened. "How do you know my name?" He looked toward the forest. "Because everyone here knows your name." "That's not an answer." "No." He looked back at her. "It isn't." Eleanor tightened her grip on the basket. "I'm going home." "You should." "Then move." He didn't. For some reason, Eleanor found herself annoyed rather than frightened. "Are you always this rude?" A faint smile appeared on his face. "No." "Could have fooled me." The smile disappeared. "My name is James." "James what?" "James Blackwood." Eleanor stared at him. Blackwood. The same surname as the village. "The Blackwoods own half the village," she said. "Almost." She frowned. "Almost?" "My family used to." There was something about the way he said it that made Eleanor stop. "Used to?" James looked toward the trees again. "We lost a lot." The words carried a weight she didn't understand. Before she could ask what he meant, a distant howl rolled through the forest. Eleanor jumped. James didn't. Instead, his entire expression changed. The tiredness vanished. His shoulders stiffened. "Go home," he said. "What?" "Now." "Why?" "Because you're not supposed to be here." "I heard someone calling me." James went still. "Who?" "I don't know." "Was it a man?" "I don't know." "Was it an old woman?" "No." His face became pale. "Eleanor." She had never heard anyone say her name like that. "What?" "Did the voice say anything else?" She hesitated. "It said that I needed to wake up." James stared at her. For the first time, Eleanor saw genuine fear in his eyes. "What?" she asked. He stepped closer. "Nothing." "That wasn't a nothing face." "I don't know what you mean." "You look terrified." "I'm not." "You are." James looked away. Then another howl echoed through the trees. Closer this time. James turned sharply. "Go." Eleanor didn't move. "James—" "Go home!" His voice was suddenly so forceful that she flinched. James immediately softened. "I'm sorry." The anger disappeared from his face. "You need to leave." "Why?" "Because if what I think is happening is true, you're in danger." Eleanor's heart skipped. "What do you think is happening?" James didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small silver pendant. It was shaped like a crescent moon. He held it toward her. Eleanor stared. She knew that symbol. It was identical to the necklace her grandmother had given her when she was a child. She touched the pendant around her neck. James noticed. His expression changed again. "Where did you get that?" "My grandmother." "She gave it to you?" "Yes." "When?" "I was eight." James looked at her as though she had just told him something impossible. "Does your grandmother know what it is?" "Of course." "Has she ever told you about your father?" Eleanor's face hardened. "My father left when I was little." "That's not what I asked." She stared at him. "My grandmother said he died." James looked away. "I'm sorry." Something in his voice made Eleanor uneasy. "You know something." "No." "You do." James took a breath. "I know that your family has been connected to mine for a very long time." "How?" "I don't know." "You've said 'I don't know' a lot for someone who seems to know everything about me." That almost made him smile. Almost. Then his eyes moved toward the trees. "We need to go." "We?" "Yes." "Where?" "Your grandmother's house." "Why?" "Because she needs to see me." Eleanor laughed nervously. "That's not happening." "Why?" "Because my grandmother hates your family." James looked genuinely surprised. "She never told me that." "She doesn't exactly have regular meetings with you." He looked at her. "Eleanor." "What?" "Your grandmother doesn't hate my family." "How would you know?" "Because she used to love my father." Silence. Eleanor's smile disappeared. "What?" James said nothing. "My grandmother never told me that." "I know." "How do you know?" "Because my father told me." Eleanor felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her. Her grandmother had always been secretive about the past. But Eleanor had never imagined this. "Your father..." James looked toward the moon. "He disappeared twenty years ago." Eleanor's breath caught. "My mother died twenty years ago." James looked at her. Neither spoke. For a moment, the forest seemed completely silent. Then something moved behind them. James immediately stepped between Eleanor and the trees. "What was that?" "Stay behind me." "I can take care of myself." "I didn't say you couldn't." "Then why—" "Because whatever is out there isn't looking for me." Eleanor swallowed. "What is it looking for?" James turned his head slightly. "You." A shadow moved between the trees. Eleanor's fear returned. "James..." "I know." The shadow disappeared. James looked down at her. His expression was strangely calm now. "Run." "What?" "When I tell you to run, don't ask questions." Eleanor shook her head. "I'm not leaving you." James stared at her. For a second, something changed in his eyes. Something almost warm. "You don't even know me." "I know." "Then why?" Eleanor didn't know. Perhaps because he looked lonely. Perhaps because he was the first person in years who seemed to understand that something was wrong with her family's history. Or perhaps because, despite everything, she trusted him. "I don't know," she admitted. James looked away. "Neither do I." Then he grabbed her hand. Not roughly. Just enough to pull her away from the trees. "Come on." They ran. Branches struck against Eleanor's coat as they hurried through the forest. James moved quickly, but he never let go of her. And somehow, despite the fear tightening her chest, Eleanor noticed something strange. His hand was trembling. James Blackwood was afraid. Not for himself. For her. They finally reached the edge of the forest. The lights of her grandmother's cottage appeared ahead. Eleanor stopped. James released her hand. "Go inside." She looked at him. "Will I see you again?" He hesitated. "Probably." "That's a terrible answer." "I know." Eleanor almost smiled. Then she noticed his eyes. For the briefest moment, they weren't grey. They were golden. Exactly like the wolf's. She blinked. They were grey again. James had already stepped backward. "Goodnight, Eleanor." "James?" He stopped. "Who are you?" He looked at her for a long moment. Then he said quietly: "Someone who should have met you a long time ago." And before Eleanor could ask what that meant, he disappeared into the darkness. She stood there beneath the moon. Her heart was racing. Not because she was afraid. Because somewhere deep inside her, something had awakened. And for the first time in twenty years, the forest began to howl. Eleanor looked up at the full moon. The crescent pendant around her neck suddenly felt warm. Then a voice whispered inside her mind. Wake up. And this time, she knew it wasn't a dream.