The cursed Luna's Betrayal

Kael moved through the shadows with the precision of a hunter, his senses sharper than ever, every crack of a branch beneath his foot, every gust of wind, and every distant sound of pursuit sending a jolt through his veins. He couldn't let his guard down-not for a second. The hunters were closing in. He could hear them now, crunching steps across the forest floor, and the distinctive beat of a pack that knew exactly how to track its prey.

But Kael wasn't going to make it easy for them.

The scent of hunters mixed with the underlying fragrance of pine, damp earth, and decaying leaves. His silver eyes flicked toward the shadows to see if anything stirred. He could never trust in a world where the taste of betrayal was all that he was left with; it had still not cooled to the touch within his mind. Exiled for a crime he didn't commit, falsely accused of treason by the family pack, burned his mark upon the flesh-branding him into being nothing but part of the Shadowmoon Pack, once and now gone, because of this false act of treason.

That pain of that betrayal was never forgotten; it had only hardened him. His mark was jagged, his scar punishment and sentencing for a life spent alone, chasing with no hope of respite. Yet, he knew the hunters would not rest-not because his mark had burnt out but because of what he had concealed inside: secrets and a prophecy still to be unraveled. They didn't know the whole truth, but Kael did. And they would tear him limb from limb before that truth ever had a chance to surface.

The wind changed and he stilled. The unmistakable smell of blood and fear slammed into him like a tidal wave.

The wolf pup.

A small, weak whimper was heard to pierce the underbrush, and Kael's heart jerked hard. He snatched his head sharply to one side, feeling the sound ripple out through the silent air. The pup was caught; its small body threshed futilely against the tight snare that bound it.

Kael's instincts kicked in, the need to help the vulnerable creature overwhelming. He could leave it. Let it die like everything else in his life. Let it rot in the woods, a casualty of a world that had no place for rogues. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

With nary a moment of hesitation, he dropped to his knees beside the pup, calloused fingers flying as they quickly worked the snare from where it dug into the wolf's flesh. The pup whimpered weakly and Kael's chest tightens. He just can't watch it go on like that. This is when he must choose: whether he should leave now or he must act.

Stay still, he whispers softly to the creature. His voice low and even, he will do this.

The pup whimpered once more, then still, having caught the shift in Kael's demeanor. He worked quickly now, tearing at the snare with practiced ease. The cold wires of the metal cut against his skin, and he grimaced, wrenching it free. The little wolf let out a relieved sigh, its body relaxing in Kael's arms as he cradled it against his chest.

He didn't have time to waste.

The hunters were still too close. He could hear their voices now, closer than ever. They were methodical, disciplined-too much so for Kael to make a break for it without being caught. His heart pounded in his chest, and he rose to his feet, holding the small pup tightly in his arms.

"Stay quiet," he whispered.

His body was a coiled spring as he began to move, dodging through the trees, his boots light against the earth. Every step felt like it could be his last, every breath drawing him closer to the end of this chase. The pup in his arms trembled but didn't make a sound, and Kael felt, in that moment, a kind of affinity to the creature itself-a kindred spirit of sorts.

He wasn't the only one running.

The distant howl of a wolf echoed through the trees, and Kael's gut tightened. Was it a warning? A sign from the pack, or perhaps something else? He didn't know, but it wasn't good. The night was shifting, and Kael could feel the weight of the world bearing down on him.

But there was no going back now.

PART II

The small village was quiet, nestled at the edge of the forest, where the wilds and the human settlements met in a fragile peace. It was an unremarkable night, the sort when the only sounds one hears are crickets chirping, the soft rustling of leaves in the wind, the faraway calls of animals. But inside the healer's clinic, there was an underlying tension that Lila couldn't ignore.

She had always felt it-this feeling that something was coming, something she wasn't prepared for. Her mentor, Elder Myra, had warned her to be cautious, but how could she prepare for the unknown? It was always the unknown that terrified her. The village had been a haven, yes, but it wasn't immune to the world outside.

Lila crushed herbs in the mortar, her hands falling into a rhythm. A small wolf lay on the table before her. She had seen injuries before, but nothing like this. The skin was torn and bloodied, but it would heal. That was what Lila did. She healed. It was what she was good at. But she could never heal herself-her own fears, her own uncertainties.

Her concentration shattered with the quiet crack of the door breaking open. Lila was startled, leaping with each beat of her heart as her gaze swung around and caught sight of the figure outlined in the door frame.

Kael.

He was taller than she had envisioned, dark hair unruly and disheveled, eyes sharp and keen. His breathing came in ragged spurts, his clothes streaked with blood. Her stomach knotted with anxiety, but she kept silent.

He seemed to have walked straight out from the forest itself-harmful, savage, and with some dark shadow following him. His body trembled slightly and before Lila could do something about it, he stumbled inside, flopping down on one knee.

"I need help," he murmured in a low, husky voice. It had a raw edge to it that made her heart ache.

Lila went still for a second, staring at him, the man branded as a traitor to the same pack he had once belonged to. The rogue. The outcast. The one whose mark had been burned in some sort of punishment. Her mind screamed for her to step back, to protect herself, to be safe.

But she couldn't. She couldn't leave him to die.

She moved quickly, her hands steady despite the overwhelming surge of emotions in her chest. There was something in his eyes-something that called to her. The healer in her couldn't turn him away. The woman in her...well, she didn't know what she felt. Not yet.

"I'll help you," she said quietly, walking to his side.

She knelt beside him and pushed his bloody hand away from his side. His shirt was ripped along his ribs, and had a great hole with a deep gash in it, pouring forth blood dark and thick.

"Be still," she said softly, her hands shaking as she searched for the bandages.

She reached out to touch the injury, and Kael winced. Still, he did not jerk away. He just looked at her, his silver eyes holding something unreadable within them. Perhaps it was just exhaustion or maybe that odd sensation that Lila was his lifeline at the moment, but Kael released a deep sigh of relief as she tended the wound.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken words.

"I'm Lila," she finally said, breaking the silence.

"I know who you are," Kael murmured, his voice rough, his eyes briefly flicking to the small wolf pup resting on the table. It seemed almost as if he was trying to make sense of everything-his own pain, the soft presence of the pup, the healer in front of him.

Lila nodded, her heart hammering. "What happened to you?"

"I don't have time for explanations," Kael said, his voice tight. "I just need to get through this."

The quiet urgency in his tone tugged at her, but she didn't ask more. She had learned long ago that some things couldn't be rushed. She would help him now, but answers would have to wait.