Winter Howl

Chapter Two – The Alpha’s Scent

The howl was his own.

It rolled through the trees, claiming the night, sending snowbirds scattering from their perches. Calian Belmont lowered his muzzle, steam rising from his breath in the frigid air, and let the silence swallow the sound.

He had felt it—the shift.

Magic. Old magic. The kind that hadn’t stirred in Frostwood for centuries. It had burned through the ground and into his bones, sharp as ice and impossible to ignore. His pack would feel it too, but none as acutely as him. Alpha blood carried certain burdens, and tonight, that burden had come calling.

He shifted with practiced ease, bones reforming, muscle stretching, fur withdrawing into skin. In moments, he stood in the snow on two legs, the air biting at his bare shoulders. The cold didn’t bother him. He was born to it, shaped by it.

And yet… this cold was different. It didn’t belong to the forest.

He knelt, pressing his palm to the ground. The snow was still humming. Threads of energy coiled beneath the surface, drawn toward a single point east of here. His senses reached for it, searching—until he caught something else.

A scent.

Not wolf. Not prey. Something softer. Cleaner. Like fresh snow on untouched ground, but warmer, threaded with something human. His mouth curved, though it wasn’t quite a smile.

“Found you,” he murmured.

Snow whispered under his boots as he moved, silent despite his size. The forest seemed to lean closer, listening. Above, the moon spilled pale light across his path, guiding him through the maze of trees.

He didn’t know who—or what—was out there. But he knew one thing: whatever had awakened tonight was bound to him now. Fate had a way of weaving its threads tight in Frostwood.

And Calian Belmont never ignored a summons.