Howling Desire (Hunter’s Moon Ritual #2)

Prologue

GRACIE

Twelve years ago…

“Would you mind bringing these over to the shrine?” my dad asked, drawing my attention from where I was looking out the back window of our home.

I could see my brother and mother from here, both flipping through books she’d chosen for his lesson of the day.

I was glad I’d gotten all of my work done early because in the summer months the last thing I wanted to be doing was sitting still.

I had really only come in to grab a quick snack.

I’d spent most of the day outside, underneath the golden afternoon sun.

I loved our home, but our garden was my favorite place to spend time.

My mother and father had made beds of vegetables and flowers that grew huge throughout the season.

Scattered throughout were wooden benches my brother and I had helped make before we painted them.

There was only one place with shade—the large apple tree at the center of the garden—but I liked it that way.

Even though we were wolves, most of whom liked the moon, my family had always loved the sun.

My wolf was practically begging me to go on a run.

“Gracie?”

I turned and offered my dad a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I was thinking about going on a run,” I admitted, taking the small basket of food he handed me to bring to the shrine. It wasn’t much, but everyone in the village brought weekly offerings to show our thanks to The Eight.

“If you wait until after dinner, we could go as a family and maybe head further into the forest,” he said, his eyes bright at the idea.

“Okay.” I nodded eagerly, already halfway out the door.

Our village was one of the smaller ones in our territory, or at least that’s what my parents always said.

The few times I’d been outside of it, I mostly saw farmland stretching on forever, with one or two bigger cities along the way.

Even so, our village was a place of trade where farmers brought their crops, and there was always a busy, lively feeling to it.

Greetings echoed through the air as I waved in passing to neighbors and to groups of women and men gathered within the town center.

Most people were busy with their work during the day, but in the evening, as dinner drew closer, many slowed down to talk with friends or nearby relatives.

It was a short walk along dirt roads to the village center, where a beautiful wooden shrine stood.

The hand-carved oak building had been there for decades, and though time had worn it down in places, it still showed the symbols of The Eight perfectly.

Even the two unnamed gods were represented by empty spaces in the back, left open to be filled someday, as if the shrine were keeping space for them.

“I knew you’d be coming by,” our town’s priestess called out. I had known Tala my entire life. She was close friends with my mother, and I’d come to think of her as my aunt. Since she and my mom had grown up together, it didn’t feel far from the truth.

“My dad wanted me to drop this off,” I explained, looking around the inside of the hand-painted shrine.

“Tell him thank you,” she said with a warm smile. “Are you planning to attend the ritual tonight? It will be a full moon.”

I nibbled on my lip. I’d never been to one of the rituals to thank The Eight—they were way past my bedtime—but maybe this time… “I’ll have to ask my parents.”

“Even if you just come for the beginning, it’s very peaceful. Mostly meditation,” she said. “I wouldn’t blame you if you found it a bit boring though,” she added teasingly.

“That sounds really nice,” I told her honestly. “Which of The Eight is it for?”

“All of them. We never tell people who they should pray to. It’s a time to connect with one of The Eight, all of them…or even none of them. Some people have told me they don’t believe in The Eight at all, but they like the sense of community the rituals bring.”

Her words made my chest feel lighter. There was no pressure, no feeling like I had to pray to The Eight. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in them, I just wasn’t sure how I felt yet. My parents had always told us it was important to take our time when deciding things like that.

“I’ll ask,” I promised her.

After a few more minutes, I said goodbye and started toward home.

“Gracie!” a familiar voice called out. I waved at Nori, who was sprinting toward me, carrying a bundle of what looked like cloth.

Nori was two years older than me and a year younger than Owen, and we’d been friends ever since I could remember. I looked up to her like an older sister. She always seemed so confident, like she knew exactly what to do, and I thought she was amazing.

Right now, ink was smeared on her cheek, and her blonde hair was piled on top of her head like a crown.

“Hey! You coming over for dinner?”

Nori’s family had passed away when she was very young, after a virus swept through our territory. Because of that, she spent a lot of time at our house even though she technically lived with Tala, along with two other children who had lost their families.

“Yes, and I brought those quilts your mom wanted,” she said, holding up her bundle. “It feels good to finally be able to make something.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said, admiring the shades of blue, purple, and creamy brown. “Did you do these all on your own?”

“Yes!” She shrugged. “Sometimes I can’t sleep.”

Owen had mentioned that to me before. In fact, most of the little things I knew about Nori came from my brother. They were best friends.

“You could try one of those sleep remedies my mom makes,” I suggested, and she nodded in agreement. When we were only a few feet from the door, my brother stepped outside and offered Nori a gigantic smile.

“I was about to come find you. I finished my lessons for the day,” he said, waving both of us inside—though his focus was completely on her. I wasn’t surprised when they both headed out to the back yard, the quilts forgotten on the table.

“What are these?” my mother asked, shifting through the material and looking closely at each stitch.

“Nori made them.”

“What an amazing girl,” my mother said. “I’m going to be terribly disappointed if they don’t get married one day.”

My face scrunched up. “Nori and Owen? Gross.”

My dad barked out a laugh while stirring the pot in front of him. “You don’t think they like each other?”

My eyes moved to where they were sitting together outside, laughing, and I sighed. “I mean…I guess. I just…I mean, who’s even thinking about getting married? Owen is only three years older than me!”

My mom smiled softly. “A lot can change in those few years. But anyway, I don’t mean now—I mean when they’re much older. I just think it’s sweet they have a crush on one another.”

“Your mom and I met when we were about fifteen. My family had just moved to a nearby village, but it took until I was eighteen before I finally asked her out on a date,” my dad added.

“Apparently I was scary,” my mom said, giving me a wink that made me laugh.

My dad continued his recount of the story. “Tala was the one who finally said, ‘If you keep staring at her but not talking to her, The Eight are going to remove your ability to talk.’ Felt like a bit of a curse.” I couldn’t help but giggle at that.

As we began to set the table for dinner, I thought about what they’d said. Would I want to get married one day? I didn’t think so. At least not to anyone in this village. All of the boys my age were really annoying.

A few minutes later, the five of us were sitting down for a simple summer dinner of freshly baked bread, roasted garden vegetables, and grilled chicken. My dad offered a quiet word of thanks to The Eight, spoken softly in habit, before we dug in.

“So,” my mother said as she passed Owen the bowl of vegetables, “are you still thinking about the ritual tonight?”

“Yeah.” Owen nodded, looking at Nori who brightened immediately.

“I convinced him to go.”

“What about you, Gracie?” my mother asked, making my brows lift.

“I was actually going to ask about it,” I said. “Tala said it was peaceful. Mostly meditation?”

“It is,” my dad agreed. “I know you haven’t been before, and it’s a bit past when you normally go to bed—but your mom and I are okay with you giving it a try.”

“You don’t have to stay for the whole thing, either,” my mom added. “Only go if you want to. It’s meant to be a gathering, not a command.”

I glanced between them, thrilled they were okay with me staying up late, but thinking about what Tala’s had told me. “Wouldn’t The Eight be upset if we don’t go?”

“No,” Nori spoke up. “The Eight don’t need worship, but they appreciate it.”

My mother smiled at her. “Exactly. True belief isn’t something you perform.”

I liked that. A lot.

“One of the soldiers passing through was talking about somewhere in the north of the territory where it’s different,” my brother said, frowning.

“There are places where rituals are…stricter,” my dad said after a moment. “Where attendance is expected. Forced.”

“That doesn’t sound very nice,” I muttered.

“It isn’t,” my mother agreed.

I thought about that as I ate, about the way Tala had spoken at the shrine, how calm everything had felt. No pressure. No expectations. Just…choice.

Outside, the light was already starting to fade, the sky shifting into deeper colors as the moon began its slow rise. My family talked about our plans for the next day, leaving me to think.

No one was watching. No one was waiting to see if I did the right thing. It was just a choice, and that felt like enough of a reason to give The Eight a chance.