Chapter 65: The First Kill

The morning broke in a sheet of frost.

The light was thin and sharp, filtering through ice-laced pines like a blade held to my throat. My hands were already raw from the cold, the pads of my fingers cracked and pink where they gripped Talon’s swaddled form. I adjusted him tighter against my chest, checked the straps, then scanned the horizon.

No wind.

No birds.

Too quiet.

My wolf was restless again, prowling inside me, pacing along the ragged edges of my nerves.

Something’s wrong, she said.

“I know,” I murmured.

We broke camp quickly. No fire, no trail. I tucked away every scrap of evidence that we’d been there, even brushing out our footprints with a pine bough until the snow looked clean again.

But my gut twisted tighter with every step I took.

We were being hunted.

Not by men.

Not yet.

But something big.

Something hungry.

The scent hit me first—deep, earthy, rotting fur and musk. Old meat. Damp soil.

I froze mid-step. Talon shifted against me with a sleepy grunt, but didn’t wake.

Then I heard it.

A crunch in the trees behind us.

Too heavy for a wolf.

Too close.

Bear.

Run, my wolf snarled. Now.

I turned on instinct and sprinted.

Snow sprayed in clouds beneath my boots as I bolted down the slope, weaving between trees, ducking branches. My arms locked around Talon as I shielded his tiny body with mine. The satchel banged against my hip. My breath came fast and shallow.

Another roar—closer now, loud enough to shake snow from the branches.

I skidded around a fallen log, leapt the bank of a narrow stream. My muscles screamed in protest. I couldn’t outrun it. Not like this. Not with him in my arms.

A flash of brown fur. A crash of underbrush.

I stumbled into a clearing and turned.

There it was.

Massive. Shaggy. Eyes glazed with winter hunger. A gash split one shoulder—old, infected. Its mouth hung open, steam rising off yellowed teeth. Foam clung to its lips.

Feral.

Desperate.

It reared up on its hind legs, roaring again.

I had no blade. No bow. Just the tiny weight of my child and the fire screaming in my blood.

Put the pup down, my wolf ordered. Then shift.

“No,” I hissed. “Not here. Not in front of him—”

He won’t survive if you don’t.

The bear charged.

I spun, found a hollow at the base of an ancient tree—just wide enough to tuck Talon inside.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Mama’s going to be a little different when she comes back.”

I wrapped him tight in the furs. Set the satchel beside him. Covered the gap with branches. Snow. My hands shook.

Then I turned.

The bear was nearly on me.

I let go.

Let the grief rise.

Let the rage take over.

My wolf surged through me in a howl of fire and bone. My limbs snapped. Skin tore. Claws burst from my hands as my body warped into the shape beneath my skin—the one that had waited too long.

I was gold.

Gold and white and wild.

And I didn’t run.

I met the bear head-on, teeth bared.

We collided in a blur of fur and blood.

His claws raked my flank—I twisted, slammed my shoulder into his ribs. He was stronger. He was heavier. But I was faster.

And I was fighting for more than survival.

I was fighting for him.

My jaws found his throat. Bit deep. The taste of blood filled my mouth, thick and coppery. He screamed, swiped, missed.

Another tear down my side. Warmth gushed from the wound.

Still, I didn’t let go.

I couldn’t.

I drove him back, forcing him into the treeline. Snow exploded around us as we tumbled down a slope. He landed hard. I landed harder. My shoulder dislocated with a sickening pop.

Pain blinded me.

But I kept moving.

Bit. Tore. Howled.

And finally…

He went still.

Blood soaked the snow in widening circles. His chest stilled. His massive body slumped into the earth like a crumpled mountain.

I staggered back, panting.

My wolf receded, slow and trembling, until I was on my hands and knees in the snow—naked, bleeding, shivering.

Covered in blood that wasn’t just mine.

The bear’s corpse lay beside me.

Massive.

Unmoving.

I had killed.

Not in war.

Not in defense of a pack.

But for Talon.

For the child waiting in the roots of that tree.

I stumbled to my feet, one arm hanging limp, my shoulder still dislocated. I couldn’t shift again—not like this. I could barely think.

But I could still crawl.

So I did.

Through snow.

Through blood.

Back to the tree.

I dug him out carefully. His face was scrunched, his hands fisting, but he didn’t cry. Just blinked up at me with those golden eyes.

I collapsed beside him, clutching his tiny body against my bare chest. My teeth chattered. Blood mixed with milk on my skin.

I shook.

And I cried.

Not because I was weak.

But because I wasn’t anymore.

I had killed.

And the part of me that wept…

Was not the same Luna who had once ruled beside Kael.

The sky above me turned grey.

Snow began to fall again.

Talon fussed.

I wrapped us both in what I could salvage from the satchel, using the bear’s own hide to shield us until morning.

And as the cold crept back in, I whispered:

“You’re safe now.”

Then—

“I will never let anyone hurt you.”

My wolf stirred, low and slow.

Good. You fought like you meant it.

“I meant every breath.”

Then remember this.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

You shouldn’t.

Because this is what survival looks like now.

I closed my eyes.

And listened.

To the forest.

To the falling snow.

To the heartbeat in my arms.