Under the Calling Moon
CHAPTER I
"Under the Calling Moon"
“Cail! Cail!” I shout his name like a spell, feet pounding across the clearing where our pack has gathered. Behind me, the sun sinks lower in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the entire Willow Creek territory. Everything shimmers—the grass, the trees, the air itself—as if the world has dressed up specially for tonight’s ceremony.
I dodge between adults arranging long wooden tables and hanging colorful banners that snap in the breeze. The clearing hums with waiting—I feel it in my bones, thrumming under my skin like a second heartbeat.
Tonight is Cail’s coming of age. We’ll all witness the first shift of our future alpha—the next guardian of our pack. I’ve watched six other ceremonies before, but never for someone who matters to me like Cail does. In our pack, the first shift always happens at sixteen—never earlier, never later. Elder Lyra says that’s when our bodies and minds are finally ready to hold both human and wolf. It’s when the wolf awakens and when the bond of true mates is revealed.
And like the day couldn’t get any better, he’ll transform under the light of a supermoon.
Father explained it to me yesterday—a supermoon is when the moon comes closest to Earth, sometimes tied to a lunar eclipse. It appears bigger, brighter, closer than usual. He says it’s the kind of moon that stirs something ancient in our blood, makes the bond between human and wolf stronger, more permanent. As the supermoon rises, so does the power of our kind grow stronger.
“The moon speaks clearer on these nights,” Mother whispered to me last night as she tucked me in. “The first shift under a supermoon often reveals a wolf of great power—especially at sixteen, when the bond is at its most pure.” I hold that knowledge close, proud that my friend Cail will have such an important moment.
As the afternoon light streams through the trees, something flutters deep inside me when the beams touch my skin—not the usual warmth of sunlight, but something else. Something that feels like an echo calling from far away, hollow and yearning. The feeling makes my chest tight, like there’s an empty space inside me that’s trying to reach toward... something.
I press my palm flat against my sternum. The sensation feels older than me, like it’s been waiting inside me for years. I look south, toward the darkest part of the woods. The trees there grow closer together, their canopy so thick that even at midday the ground stays in shadow. No one goes there much. Not forbidden, exactly, but avoided. The way you avoid stepping on graves.
I shake my head, pushing away the strange feeling that’s been gnawing at me since last night. Tonight’s about Cail. Not this. Not the ache that tastes like copper and old leaves.
“Magnus, those tables won’t move themselves!” Mrs. Helena calls out to her husband, laughing as she arranges flowers.
“Getting there, love!” Magnus grins back, hefting a heavy wooden table with my father and Alfred. He’s almost as tall as my father, with the same broad shoulders that come from years of hunting and patrolling. He catches my eye and winks, the same way he does every time I visit their house.
“Save some energy for the dancing later!”
Elder Abraham chuckles from his chair, watching the younger pack members work. “In my day, we had half the decorations and twice the fun.”
“That’s because you’re ancient, old man,” Bryce teases, earning a playful swat from his mother.
This is what I love most about our pack—how everyone feels like family. The older kids help the little ones, the adults joke around like big kids themselves, and the elders share stories that make everyone laugh.
We all belong here, together.
While the adults work, I spot a group of children charging into the scene like a stampede of laughter and energy. My friends! They’re already off in their own world, imaginations soaring beneath the crisp blue sky—and I can’t wait another second to join them.
“Cail!” I shriek, racing toward the tallest boy in our group. His dark hair catches the fading sunlight as he turns to find me. Matteo—or Matt, as we all call him—is right behind me, his feet pounding against the earth almost as loudly as my heart.
“Can’t run forever, Leah!” Matt yelled, laughing like this is the best game he’s played all week.
Arch follows not far behind, his wild red curls bouncing with each step, always eager to join in whatever game we’re playing. He never smiles as easy as Matt does, but his eyes track everything, missing nothing.
When I reach Cail, I duck behind his back, laughing so hard my sides hurt. “Hide me!”
He doesn’t even ask why. Just crouches and scoops me up in one smooth motion, hands warm and sure around my legs. We take off running, and my ponytail whips behind me like a flag. His laugh rumbles through his back into my chest, and something in me settles—like finding the right place to stand after spinning in circles. With him, everything makes sense. Even when nothing else does.
“Well, look who showed up. Of course you ran straight to him,” Matt teases, grinning as he chases after us. His dark chocolate hair bounces with each step. At fourteen, he’s caught between being a kid like me and growing up like Cail, but he never seems to mind playing with us younger ones.
And just like that, we’re off again—a blur of footsteps and laughter echoing through the trees. Cail zigzags between the bustling adults, careful not to knock into their work while still making our chase exciting. I tighten my grip, burying my nose against his shoulder without meaning to. He smells like pine sap, cedar, and the dark dirt under old logs, and something else I don’t have a name for—something that makes me want to curl up and stay.
“Faster!” I urge, glancing back to see Matt gaining on us. “He’s catching up!”
Cail laughs. “Hold on tight!”
He picks up speed, dodging around a group of elders who shake their heads but smile anyway.
Elder Lyra, with her silver-streaked hair calls out, “Careful with the little one, Cailean! Save your energy for tonight’s ceremony. The shifting age is sacred—sixteen years to the day!”
Come.
The laughter dies in my throat. The playful energy shifts, like sunlight hiding behind clouds.
The word drops into my head like a stone into still water—heavy, cold, wrong. It sounds like my voice, but older. Colder. Like I’m hearing myself from somewhere far ahead, calling back through years I haven’t lived yet.
I look around to see if anyone else heard it, felt it. The pull toward those dark trees in the southern woods, like something important is waiting there in the shadows.
“You okay?” Cail asks, noticing my sudden stillness.
I force a smile, not knowing how to explain. “Just excited for tonight,” I lie, but the ache remains, spreading through my ribs like frost across glass.
“Come on, you guys—stop messing around. We should help set everything up for the ceremony.”
My heart leaps at my sister’s voice, and I break into a wide smile when I see her approaching. Alina stands tall and graceful, her long chestnut hair braided intricately down her back. At fifteen, she already carries herself with the confidence of a grown-up. Mother says Alina was born knowing herself, while I was born searching.
I watch as Cail’s eyes find her instantly, like he’s drawn by some invisible thread. The usual sharpness in his face softens, and his mouth relaxes into something almost tender. He slows to a stop and carefully sets me down, his hands gentle on my shoulders as my feet touch the ground again.
“You okay to stand, Cattleya?” His voice soft, steady.
He’s the only one who calls me that. Everyone else shortens it without thinking. But from him, it never feels formal. It feels like care, quiet and constant.
I nod, but a small pang of disappointment hits me as he walks straight to Alina, joining the group carrying chairs and wooden tables. I watch from across the clearing as they work together, moving in perfect rhythm.
When he needs something, she’s already handing it to him. When she struggles with a heavy banner, he’s there before she even asks. It’s like they share the same heartbeat.
Matt notices me watching and nudges my shoulder. “They’re pretty perfect together, aren’t they?”
I nod, even though I don’t really get why it makes my chest feel tight. “Yeah... they are.”
“Cail’s been different since they got together,” Matt continues, sounding older than usual. “Calmer. More focused. Like he finally knows who he’s supposed to be.”
“Alina could be the one bound to him,” Arch adds as he joins us, standing too still the way he always does. “Once Cail shifts tonight, the truth will answer him.”
Their voices drift back to me while they weave silver ribbons through the ceremonial arch.
“Tonight’s the night.” Alina’s voice sounds light, playful—but there’s something underneath, like when you say you’re fine but you’re not.
Cail lifts a table that would take two grown men to move. “Yeah. After tonight, everything changes.”
“You ready for that?” She bumps his shoulder, grinning. “You ready for what’s meant to claim you?”
My feet stop moving.
Claim.
The word sits in the air between them, heavy as smoke.
I inch closer, pretending to fix the wildflowers on one of the tables. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cail take Alina’s hand and kiss it, quick and gentle. The gesture looks natural for them—like it’s supposed to be that way. My chest feels tight all of a sudden, and I look down fast. I don’t really know why it bothers me... but it does.
“You know I am,” Cail says, his eyes bright as Venus in the evening sky as he looks at Alina with such certainty that something inside me twists uncomfortably.
“You’re bound?” I interrupt, unable to stop myself. “What do you mean? You both haven’t shifted yet.” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Everyone in our pack knows the stories—that a true mate bond only reveals itself after the first shift, when your wolf finally awakens and recognizes its other half.
Cail crouches down so we’re eye to eye, the way he always does when he wants me to understand something important. His deep brown eyes are kind, patient.
“It’s not always about shifting,” he explains, his voice gentle. “Sometimes, it’s just... there. A pull. Like gravity drawing two people together.”
“But that’s not what Elder Lyra teaches us,” I argue. “She says the bond only reveals itself after the first shift—when the wolf awakens and chooses.”
Cail shrugs, his eyes never leaving Alina’s face. “Maybe most people need the wolf to tell them what their heart already knows. But I don’t.”
I scrunch my nose, trying to make sense of it all. The pack stories always say it works after shifting. That’s how it is in all the bedtime stories Mother tells. But Cail sounds so sure about Alina.
And his certainty unsettles me—it goes against everything I’ve heard about true bonds. But more than that, it makes something deep inside me twist painfully.
“I feel it too,” I blurt out, the words spilling before I can catch them. “When you’re near, it’s like—like something in me knows you. Like I’ve been looking for you my whole life and didn’t even know it.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Cail and Alina glance at each other, and then they laugh—soft, like they think it’s sweet.
“Of course you do, little wolf,” Cail says, ruffling my hair. “You’re pack. We’re all connected.”
“Not like that,” I insist, my face burning hot. “I mean—”
“Leah’s got a crush,” Matt teases, poking me in the side. Arch snickers behind his hand.
“I do not!” I protest, even as my face burns hotter. “That’s not what I meant!”
Alina steps forward, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Alright, alright, stop it. Come on, Leah. Let’s go help Mother with the preparations. The boys have tables to move.”
I want to argue more, to make them understand, but Alina is already guiding me away. Over my shoulder, I see Cail and Matt bumping shoulders, laughing about something I can’t hear. Arch trails after them, always wanting to be included with the older boys.
As Alina leads me away from them, the sting of embarrassment burns my cheeks. She notices—she always does when something’s wrong with me.
“Hey,” she says softly, slowing our pace and guiding me behind one of the decorated cedar trees where no one can see us. “What’s going on in that wild head of yours?”
I cross my arms, not ready to talk about the tangled feelings inside me. Alina doesn’t push. Instead, she pulls me down to sit beside her on the soft earth, our backs against the cedar tree. For a moment, we just watch the pack bustling around us—our family, our world.
And I can’t help but glance back at Cail. His eyes back on Alina, gentle and warm—the same way my father looks at my mother when he thinks no one is watching. Like she’s the most precious thing in the world.
“He really loves you,” I tell Alina.
She glances over at Cail, and her entire face transforms. The serious, always composed sister disappears, replaced by something soft and glowing. “I know. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s real.”
“How did you know?” I ask. “How did you know he was…your bound?”
Alina is quiet for a long moment, touching the petals of wildflowers on the grass with the gentleness she always carries.
“It wasn’t like a lightning bolt or anything dramatic. It was more like... finding a safe place. Like meeting someone who just understands you, without you having to explain.” She looks at me with eyes that seem older than her fifteen years. “When I’m with him, things feel lighter. When I’m not...” She trails off.
“When you’re not?” I prompt.
“When I’m not, everything feels wrong. Like the world dims, the light goes with him, and I’m left in the dark.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Sometimes I think I’d do anything to keep that feeling. To keep him.”
Something in her voice makes me shiver.
She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a small object wrapped in a scrap of soft leather. “I was saving this for after the ceremony,” she whispers, “but I think you need it now.”
She places it in my palm—our secret sister ritual that started when I was five and she was eleven. Back then, she gave me a smooth river stone when I was scared about our father going on a dangerous hunt. She told me it held all her love for me, and as long as I kept it close, I’d never truly be alone.
“This one’s different.” Her voice drops, almost a whisper. “This one’s about promises that don’t break. No matter what.” She touches her own matching pendant, fingers trembling slightly. “No matter what happens.”
“You made this?” I breathe, unwrapping the leather to reveal a carved crescent moon, smooth and perfect.
“I carved it thinking about you,” she whispers. “About how you’re the brightest part of my life. How you make everything better just by being you.”
I turn the charm over in my hands, admiring the details. “It’s beautiful.”
Alina nods, a strange mix of emotions flickering across her face too quickly for me to name. “I’ve been working on it for weeks. Father helped me with some of the carving techniques.” Something shifts in her expression at his name—but it’s gone so fast I might have imagined it.
“I have one too,” she says, pulling a matching necklace from beneath her shirt.
When Alina helps me tie the necklace, her hands tremble. I look up at her in surprise—Alina never trembles. Never shows fear.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just thinking about how fast everything is changing. How different things will be after tonight.”
“Different how?”
She looks toward the forest edge, her expression distant. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
The charm rests right over my heart as she helps me arrange my hair around the cord.
“When you feel scared or alone,” she continues, tucking my hair behind my ear, “just hold onto this. And remember I’m your sister—I’ll always protect you.”
I throw my arms around her waist, and she holds me so tight I can barely breathe. But I don’t want her to let go. In this moment, I can’t imagine a world where Alina isn’t with me, my sister, my safe place, my constant.
“Promise me you won’t change after tonight?” I ask, pulling back just enough to search her face. “That you’ll still be my Alina, even...” The words snag in my throat, sharp and bitter though I don’t understand why. I force them out anyway. “Even when you’re the future Luna?”
Hearing myself say it makes something wrench painfully in my chest.
Alina tightens, almost imperceptibly. She looks away, toward the southern edge of our territory, and for a moment her expression is unreadable. Then she forces another smile and hugs me back fiercely.
“Some things change, little wolf. That’s just part of growing up.”
She pulls back and studies my face with an intensity that makes me squirm. “You’re so much like Father,” she says suddenly, brushing my cheek with her thumb. “Everyone always says so.”
“You think?” I beam, pleased by the comparison. “Mother says you look more like her family.”
“Yes,” Alina replies, a strange smile touching her lips. “Funny how that works, isn’t it?”
Before I can puzzle over her words, she straightens up and becomes my normal sister again. “Now, let’s go finish helping Mother. And tonight, when everyone’s watching Cail, I’ll be right beside you. We’ll watch him together, okay?”
Her eyes meet mine, steady and sure, and I nod—a wordless promise passing between us. Whatever happens tonight, we’ll face it together. Just like we always have.
As we walk back toward the tables, I notice something strange. Every now and then, Alina goes very still, like she’s listening for something the rest of us can’t hear. When I ask her about it, she just smiles and says she’s nervous about the ceremony. But I know my sister—she’s never nervous about anything. And this doesn’t feel like nervousness. It feels like... waiting. Like she’s expecting something.
When we reach the food preparation area, I spot my mother with Mirriam, arranging platters of meat and bread. Mirriam’s laugh carries across the clearing—warm and rich, the kind that makes you want to laugh too even if you don’t know what’s funny. She’s always been like that, Matt’s mother. Like sunshine in skin.
Mother’s hands move quick and sure over the food, but her eyes keep darting toward my father, who stands with the other senior pack members near the ceremonial circle. They exchange a quick glance—worry mixed with pride—before Mother notices us approaching.
“There are my girls,” she says, brushing flour from her hands. “Leah, can you help string these berries for the dessert table? Alina, your father needs help with the ritual herbs.”
Mirriam catches me as I pass, pulling me into a quick side hug that smells like honey and fresh bread. “Excited for tonight, sweetheart?” Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, and there’s flour in her chocolate hair. “Our Cail’s all grown up.”
“He’s going to be amazing,” I say, and I mean it.
“Of course he will.” She squeezes my shoulder. “And you’ll be there to see it. That’s what matters—being there for the people we love.” I nod, focusing on the berries. Easier than meeting her eyes and having her see too much.
She lets me go with a wink, turning back to help Mother with the platters. But I notice the way she watches me sometimes, when she thinks I’m not looking. Like she’s checking to make sure I’m okay. Like she’s memorizing something.
Near the food tables, I catch the tail end of a disagreement. Elder Abraham sits in his usual chair, weathered hands wrapped around a cup of something that steams. Elder Silas stands beside him, arms crossed, and they’re speaking in those low tones adults use when they don’t want children to hear.
“Too young,” Elder Silas mutters, arms crossed tight over his chest. “Roman had years. The boy’s barely out of childhood.”
Elder Abraham doesn’t even look up from his cup. “Roman was fifteen when his father died. Cail’s had more time than that.” His voice is dry as old bark. “And he’s still breathing, which is more than some of us expected.”
“Roman didn’t have a father to live up to.”
“No, he had a father to bury.” Elder Abraham’s voice gentles. “Same as Cail will, eventually. Best we can do is make sure he’s ready when that day comes.”
Mirriam appears then, sliding a fresh plate of food between them with a pointed look. “Elders. This is a celebration, not a funeral. Save the dire predictions for winter, when we’ve got nothing better to do than worry.”
Elder Silas huffs, but there’s no heat in it. Elder Abraham actually smiles.
“You’re right, Mirriam. As always.” He raises his cup. “To tonight, then. To Cailean, and the man he’ll become.”
“To Cailean,” Elder Silas echoes, and just like that, the tension dissolves.
I watch them a moment longer, comforted by the ordinariness of it. This is pack too—elders bickering and mothers mediating and everyone ultimately pulling in the same direction. Together.
As the evening progresses, the ceremony preparations take on a rhythm all their own. Pack members move with purpose, their voices creating a comfortable hum of activity. I help where I can, stringing berries and arranging flowers, but my attention keeps drifting to the ceremonial circle being prepared in the center of our clearing.
The ache in my chest pulses stronger as the sun sinks lower. Then for a beat I hear it again—another call from the southern woods. I turn, but there’s nothing there. Just trees and shadows.
Whatever is calling from beyond the clearing seems to grow more insistent with each passing hour. I press my hand to the crescent moon charm, trying to find comfort in Alina’s gift, but the ancient yearning remains—spreading wider, blooming through my ribs like frost across glass.
As the moon rises higher, I catch Alina staring at the southern border of our territory with an expression I’ve never seen before. Not fear, not excitement—something else. Something that makes the ache pulse stronger, like whatever’s calling to me is calling to her too.
She must feel my gaze because she turns, and for just a heartbeat, I don’t recognize the expression in her eyes. Then she smiles, and she’s my sister again.
But that moment of wrongness lingers, a sour note in an otherwise perfect song.
For just a moment, I wonder if my sister is keeping secrets too.
The thought is so ridiculous I immediately dismiss it. This is Alina. She tells me everything. She’s my sister, my constant, my safe place.
She would never lie to me.
She would never hurt me.
I watch Cail laughing with the other boys, the sunset making him shine like something out of a storybook. As I stare at him, the ache blooms wider, more insistent, like something inside me recognizing him even though I don’t understand what it means yet.
He’s bound to my sister.
It should feel like a dream—my two favorite people finding love with each other.
But all I feel is that leaf falling, silent and small. Like a secret I didn’t know I was keeping. And underneath it all, the ache whispers that something is missing, something important. Something I don’t even have a name for yet.
Above us, the first silver edge of the supermoon appears, peeking over the distant mountains. The sight of it makes my chest tight with that strange yearning I can’t explain.
I touch the crescent moon charm at my throat, remembering Alina’s promise that she’ll always be there for me. The metal feels warm against my skin, but it doesn’t quiet the emptiness that seems to echo through my bones.
Tonight, everything will change. I can feel it in the way the air thrums, in the way the approaching moon seems to pull at something deep inside me.
I just don’t know yet how much.
