Twilight at Crescent Moon had a way of turning everything slightly surreal—like someone had cranked up the saturation filter on reality just enough to make you question your perception. The sky bled watercolor hues in slow motion while the forest exhaled that distinctive evening scent of pine, earth, and something primordial that reminded you: this territory belonged to the wolves long before humans built houses and called it civilization.
I walked beside Kieran along the well-worn path that circled the main packhouse grounds, our fingers intertwined with the casual intimacy of people who’d recently discovered the joy of touching each other whenever possible. The light breeze carried hints of our scents mingled together—my honeysuckle with his pine and leather—a combination that apparentl
