The Moon That Cursed Us

EPISODE 2 — THE STRANGER

Asher carried Luna through the trees.

The weight of her body was almost negligible to him, yet the presence of her felt impossibly heavy. The forest blurred into a streak of dark trunks and jagged branches as he moved with effortless, predatory grace, slipping through the shadows without making a sound.

The girl was completely unconscious.

Her breathing was shallow, fluttering against his chest like the wings of a dying bird.

There was blood on her dress. The crimson stain had spread across the torn fabric, wet and warm. With every step he took, the metallic scent of it hung thick in the night air, sharp and intoxicatingly clear to his heightened senses.

He glanced down at her.

Her face was pale under the moonlight, smeared with dirt and thin streaks of dried blood. Dark eyelashes rested against her skin, and her lips were parted slightly, catching the faint silver light.

“Who are you?” he murmured.

She didn't answer.

Of course she couldn't.

Asher continued walking, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn't like mysteries, and he certainly didn't like uninvited complications. The territory he inhabited was governed by strict, unforgiving boundaries, and bringing an outsider—especially one actively being hunted—across those lines was a violent breach of protocol. Yet, his arms refused to loosen their hold. The strange, searing hum in his blood from the moment he had touched her skin hadn't faded; if anything, it was settling deep into his bones.

Behind him, the men who had chased her regrouped.

Through the dense foliage half a mile back, the faint glow of torches flickered through the branches. The sound of heavy boots thrashing through the underbrush broke the stillness of the night.

One of them pointed toward the trees.

“They went that way!”

“Move!” another shouted. “The boss wants her breathing, but he didn't say anything about keeping the bastard who took her whole!”

They followed, their movements clumsy but ruthless, spreading out to form a sweeping net across the forest floor.

Asher stopped.

He didn't freeze out of fear, but out of a sudden, sharp instincts.

Something was wrong.

The forest had changed.

The wind disappeared, dying mid-gust as if strangled by an unseen hand.

The birds stopped singing, their rustling in the high canopy cut short.

Even the insects went silent, the steady hum of crickets dropping into a suffocating void. The ambient noise of the woods vanished entirely, leaving behind an eerie, heavy atmospheric pressure that made the hair on Asher’s arms stand up.

Asher slowly turned his head.

A low growl echoed through the trees.

It didn't sound human, nor did it sound like any ordinary hound. It was a guttural, earth-shaking rumble that seemed to vibrate directly through the soil beneath their feet.

The men pursuing them stopped mid-stride. Torchlight wavered as arms trembled.

“What was that?” one of the hunters hissed, his voice cracking as he gripped the hilt of his blade.

Another growl.

Louder. Deeper. Rolling through the thicket like thunder before a storm.

Then—

A wolf stepped from the darkness.

It emerged from behind the roots of an ancient wisteria tree, materializing out of the shadows as though it were woven from the night itself.

It was enormous—its shoulders towering well above the chest of an average man.

Its fur was black as night, thick and coarse, absorbing the faint light around it.

Its eyes glowed beneath the moonlight, burning with an intense, molten gold that held an unnerving, deliberate intelligence.

The men backed away, their weapons dropping an inch as primal fear overruled their military training.

“What the hell—”

The wolf lunged.

Chaos erupted.

The night exploded into violent motion. The men screamed, throwing up their iron swords and swinging wildly into the gloom, but their efforts were useless.

Asher watched from a distance, Luna still unconscious in his arms, his amber eyes tracking every movement with cold precision.

The wolf moved like a shadow.

It didn't hunt like a beast; it executed with terrifying efficiency. It blurred through the line of attackers, striking with calculated, ruthless precision.

One attacker fell, thrown backward into the dark before he could even raise his shield.

Then another, his weapon clattering uselessly against the stones.

Then another, as the shadow swept through the clearing with terrifying speed.

Within moments, the entire group was gone. The surviving men scrambled backward into the brush, fleeing blindly toward the southern border, leaving their dropped torches to burn out in the damp soil.

Silence returned.

The heavy quiet settled over the forest once more, thick and suffocating.

Asher stared at the wolf.

The creature slowly turned its head away from the path where the hunters had vanished. It took a slow, deliberate step into the moonlit clearing, its massive paws making no sound against the bed of pine needles.

Its eyes met Asher's.

For a moment, neither moved. The air between them grew charged with an ancient, unspoken tension. Asher shifted his footing slightly, his body instinctively tensing, ready to defend the burden in his arms if the beast decided to strike.

Then the wolf looked at the unconscious girl in Asher's arms.

Its golden gaze lingered on Luna’s pale face, tracing the curve of her features with a strange, solemn familiarity.

Something strange happened.

The tension in the creature's massive shoulders melted away. Its lips lifted, pulling back over sharp white fangs—not in a snarl, but in a curve that looked startlingly deliberate.

Almost like…

a smile.

Asher frowned, his brow furrowing as a cold prickle of realization washed over him. This was no wild animal.

“What are you?” he demanded, his voice dropping into a harsh rasp that echoed off the stone outcroppings.

The wolf didn't answer with a roar or a snap. It simply turned around, its massive tail sweeping through the air, and disappeared into the trees as seamlessly as it had arrived, vanishing into the shadows without leaving so much as a broken twig behind.

Asher stood there for several seconds, his eyes fixed on the empty space where the creature had been standing. The quiet of the woods slowly relaxed, the wind creeping back through the canopy, rustling the high leaves overhead.

Then Luna stirred slightly.

A faint whimpering sound escaped her throat, and she shifted against his chest, her small hand instinctively reaching out to clutch at the dark fabric of his jacket.

He looked down at her.

Her skin was warm where she pressed against him, a sharp contrast to the biting night air. Whatever mark or bloodline she carried, it had just summoned something ancient out of the deep woods—something that had effortlessly torn through an armed squad just to protect her.

“Whatever you're involved in…”

He adjusted his hold on her, pulling her higher against his shoulder as he turned his back on the clearing.

“…I don't want any part of it.”

Yet, despite his cold words, he didn't set her down. He didn't leave her at the border, nor did he leave her for the wolf to claim.

With a low sigh that vanished into the cold air, he carried her away, vanishing deeper into the dark heart of the mountains.