Chapter 1 - The Wild Hunt
Moonlight flooded the snowy forest, silvery streaks of light seeping through the heavy branches of the ancient trees that lazily guarded the land between Mount Custer and Mount Richards. Frost clung to bark and needles alike, turning the wilderness into a cathedral of pale light and shadow.
She ran.
The forest unfurled beneath her paws, every sound sharp and alive—the snap of twigs, the soft crunch of snow, the rush of blood roaring in her ears. Cold air burned her lungs with every breath, and the steady pull of the night itself sang through her muscles. This was the hour her body understood best. No thought. No doubt. Only motion.
The marvellous white-and-grey she-wolf paused briefly by one of the lakes, steam rising from her nostrils in ghostly plumes. Ice glazed the water’s edge, fractured like broken glass. Lean muscles rippled beneath her shimmering coat, twitching with restless adrenaline, power coiled and waiting to be spent.
Once every year, the Alpha-King organised this event—designed to help wolves finally find their fated mate, should they not recognise each other within their own packs. The Hunt was tradition, spectacle, and promise all at once. At twenty-six, Amber was considered old to still be on her own—but she refused to accept a mate simply for the sake of being bonded.
She had never lost faith in the Moon Goddess. She would bond with her fated mate—or die alone.
Even if she wouldn’t find him this hunt, she still revelled in the thrill of running with so many of her own kind. The air was alive with distant heartbeats, far-off howls echoing between the mountains. As a warrior of her pack, Amber was at the height of her powers: explosive strength paired with keen intellect, and the capacity to keep running for hours should the need arise.
She inhaled deeply, savouring the air this far north. Frost and pine needles mingled with the scent of open water ahead—clean, sharp, intoxicating.
A nearby howl alerted her—and as she turned to sprint back into the woods, she suddenly smelled it.
Cinnamon and oak. Smoke, and something sweeter—like honey warmed over a fire.
Amber knew immediately. It was him.
Warmth bloomed low in her spine, immediate and undeniable, a gravity no wolf ever fought. The scent wrapped around her senses—right, right, right—and somewhere behind her, his howl subsided.
He had smelled her too.
Her jaws opened, returning the howl—a tease, a challenge threaded with laughter only wolves could hear.
Adrenaline flooded her system as her legs stretched, paws thundering against the frost-bitten ground. Snow sprayed behind her as she surged forward, every stride eating distance. She sensed him gaining on her—steady, relentless.
She didn’t turn.
No such foolish mistakes.
If he was her fated mate, he had to win the race. He had to prove he was worth it.
Her heart thundered against her ribs, wild, primal joy surging through her veins with every stride. She felt him trying to pressure her north, subtly herding her toward a particular direction, testing her instincts.
She didn’t relent.
Zigzagging through the trees, leaping roots and rifts, she refused to be driven like cattle. Snow-laden branches lashed at her flanks as she pushed deeper into the tightest parts of the forest.
She chose a narrow path threading tightly through the trees, fast as a spell—counting on her agility and speed to counter his broader strength in the difficult terrain—
—and then she felt his heated breath at her heels.
Certainty vibrated through her chest.
They burst into a clearing together, momentum breaking as they shifted—bone and breath and skin rearranging in a blink that felt as old as the moon overhead. She staggered, boots biting into frozen ground, human again, heart hammering.
He stood across from her, eyes bright, breath rough, recognition blazing between them like a brand burned into flesh and soul alike.
“Mate,” she whispered, the word torn from her without thought.
His lips curled, possessive. Triumphant.
“Mine.”
The forest held its breath.
