Moonbright

Chapter 8

"Take her to the southern ridge. Show her where the borders are before she wanders into Graw's territory and starts a war."

Axan leans against the doorframe of my dwelling. Arms folded. Face blank.

"You want me to walk the human through our territory lines."

"I want her to stop wandering into sections she can't identify."

"So tell her."

"I'm telling you."

He watches me.

"Take Kestria," I add. "Melori listens to her."

"Melori listens to everyone. That's not the problem." He pushes off the doorframe. "The problem is you won't be there to explain it yourself."

"I'll be on patrol."

"Northern circuit?"

"Does it matter?"

"Just making sure I know where you won't be." He smirks. "Southern ridge. Border markers. Don't let the human die."

"That's the idea."

He leaves. I hear him crossing the clearing, his voice carrying—"Kestria. You're with me."

Her response, sharp: "Why?"

"Your brother wants us to babysit."

"I don't babysit Mel."

"Right. You babysit him. Today it's Mel."

I close my eyes.

The northern patrol takes an hour. Ridge clear. No Graw scent on the wind, no fresh trails crossing the line.

Deer, old.

Fox, older.

Pack scent layered over all of it, which is how it should be. The border holds.

The creek runs cold against my paws when I cross to check the traps. Two rabbits. I shift back enough to reset the wire, hands doing what paws can't, then drop down again and move on.

Done.

Whole morning ahead. Eastern circuit doesn't need checking until dusk. Western pass is Rhen's until midday.

The southern border hasn't been walked in days.

I'm already moving south before I've finished deciding to. Graw's scouts were spotted near the southern ridge last week. One of the younger wolves reported tracks. Unconfirmed.

Could be deer. Could be nothing.

I cut through the tree line. Fast, not running. Ground moves easy under four paws, faster than two. Pine sap. Wet moss. Deer trail, yesterday. Nothing that shouldn't be here.

I hear them before I see them.

Then—honey. Chamomile. Warm skin. Her.

My paws slow.

"—and that one?" Melori's voice, carrying through the trees. High. Clear. Impossible to miss.

"Claw marks. Three deep, see? That's Keer's." Axan. "He re-marks the southern line every few weeks. Other packs see it, they know whose land this is."

"He scratches trees."

"Yes."

"So he's a cat."

Kestria laughs, sharp and surprised. "Oh, please tell him that. Please. I'll pay you."

I veer off behind the ridge of pines, out of sight, and shift.

Bone and muscle fold back and I'm on two feet again, breathing hard.

There's a cache staked into the base of the old split cedar a few yards off—oilcloth bundle, pack standard, clothes swapped out every few weeks by whoever runs this section.

I dig it out. Pants. A shirt I don't bother with.

I pull the pants on, tie them off, leave the rest.

Back through the pines. Axan sees me first, his eyes landing on me, and then he looks away. Back to Melori. Keeps talking.

Kestria glances over her shoulder. Sees me. Her eyebrows go up and she looks at Axan—Axan bites the inside of his cheek.

"The markers are deeper near the overlap zones." He hasn't acknowledged me. Just keeps walking, explaining, gesturing toward the next blaze on a birch trunk. "Where our territory meets Graw's, Keer marks higher. Closer to eye level. So they see it in human form, not just wolf."

"That's smart." Melori is looking at the tree, tracing the claw marks with her finger. She hasn't turned around.

"Keer's thorough." Axan shifts a branch out of her path. "Every detail. Every gap. Same with borders as you are with healing."

"Is that a compliment or a warning?"

"Both."

I fall into step behind them, and Kestria slows until she's walking beside me. Doesn't look at me, doesn't speak, just matches my pace.

"Morning patrol?" she asks. Innocent. Looking straight ahead.

"Southern border."

"The southern border you sent Axan to walk."

"Different section."

"Mm." She watches a bird cross overhead. "Different section."

We walk.

Axan is good at this.

Melori asks questions, and not just where and what. Why. Why scent over claw in certain stretches, why the eastern border uses different spacing.

Axan answers all of it. Thorough, clear, none of the information wrong. He knows the borders as well as I do—we've walked them together for years.

Melori matches his pace without effort, hands swinging at her sides as she walks.

"What happens if someone crosses?"

"Depends on who." Axan ducks under a low branch, holds it for her, and she passes underneath. "Another pack's scout—we drive them back. Challenge if they press. A loner—evaluate. Could be someone looking for a pack. Could be trouble."

"And a human?"

He glances back at me.

"Hasn't come up much."

"It came up once."

"Yeah." He faces forward again. "It did."

She's quiet for a few steps. "Keer didn't drive me back."

"No."

"Why not?"

Axan doesn't answer, just looks at the trail ahead and adjusts their path around a fallen log. Melori turns to check if he heard her.

"Ask him." A beat. "He's right behind you."

She turns and jumps, a small sharp inhale, her hand flying up to her chest before she catches herself and drops it.

"How long have you been there?"

"A while."

"You're supposed to be on patrol."

"I am on patrol."

"This is Axan's patrol."

"This is my territory."

Her eyes narrow. Not buying a single word.

"The southern border," Kestria offers from somewhere behind me, "apparently has a different section that happens to overlap with this exact trail."

"Very convenient." Her arms fold.

"Isn't it?"

I look at my sister and she looks at the sky.

Axan has stopped walking, leaning against a tree and watching this.

"Keep moving," I tell him.

He pushes off the tree. "Thought we'd take a break at the stream. Another half mile."

He starts walking and doesn't wait for agreement. Melori falls in beside him and they pick up a conversation about Graw—how big his pack is, how long the border tension has been building. Easy back and forth. Asking things nobody else asks him.

Kestria walks beside me again, close enough that her shoulder almost brushes my arm.

"He's doing this on purpose." Low. Just for her.

"Axan? Being helpful and informative and good with people? Yes. Terrible habit."

"That's not what I mean."

"I know what you mean." She looks at me. "Maybe try being helpful and informative and good with people. See how that works."

I grunt, low, not looking at her.

"Or keep lurking ten paces behind her. That's also a strategy."

"I'm not lurking."

"Oh, you're lurking."

The stream cuts through a low clearing—shallow. Good water. Clean.

Axan calls the break. Kestria drops onto a flat rock near the bank and pulls her boots off, one hand pressing her side—gone before anyone's supposed to notice. She tips her head back and closes her eyes.

Melori crouches at the water's edge.

She rolls her sleeves up, forearms pale and freckled in places, colorful stains climbing past her wrists. She cups water in her hands and splashes it over her arms, scrubbing at the stains. They don't come off. They never come off.

She tries anyway.

She splashes her face, pushes her hair back, the white braid loosening and pieces falling around her neck. She pulls the whole thing off her shoulders, twists it up, holds it with one hand.

Water on her throat. The back of her neck.

I was saying something to Axan.

She tilts her head and water runs behind her ear, down along her jaw, and she wipes it with the back of her hand and the sleeve slips down and she pushes it up again and—

Axan is standing beside me.

He walks to the stream, crouches a few feet from her. Casual.

"Getting anywhere with those stains?"

She holds up her hands. Purple from knuckle to wrist. "I've accepted my fate."

"Distinguished. Very healer."

"Very 'I dropped a jar of paste and it exploded on everything I own.'" She splashes more water. "Does it bother the wolves? The smell, I mean. Moonbright on my skin all the time."

"Burns a little up close. Nothing bad. Most of the pack's used to it by now."

"Even Keer?"

My hands curl at my sides.

"Keer?" Axan tilts his head. "Keer seems to manage just fine around you. Can't imagine the smell is the hard part."

I'm going to kill him.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." He gives her a wink, quick and easy, having the time of his life. "Just that you're a lot to get used to. In a good way."

Melori snorts. "That's the politest version of 'you're a lot' anyone's ever given me."

"I'm a polite person."

"Weren’t you holding a young man by his ankles right before we left?"

"Politely."

She laughs, sharp off the water, and Axan grins. He did that without trying. Her head tips back and their shoulders almost touch and—

My teeth itch to lengthen. My wolf surges to the surface, wanting out, wanting to do something I can't do, and I breathe through my nose and shove it down. I look at the trees—the bark on the nearest birch, the moss on the north side, anything else.

"We should move." My voice comes clipped.

Axan stands and offers Melori a hand. She takes it.

His hand closes around hers and opens—brief, nothing, the kind of touch that means nothing—and my wolf doesn't care.

It snarls under my skin, teeth itching again, hackles I don't have rising anyway, and I'm halfway to a step forward before I catch myself and lock my knees.

Mine. Not a thought. A fact. I breathe through my nose and shove it down, again, harder this time.

"He's right." Axan rolls his shoulders. "Southern ridge gets steep past this point. Better with daylight."

Kestria is pulling her boots back on and she catches my eye, holds it for one second, two. "You look tense, Keer."

The word lands exactly where she aimed it. Pleasant. Casual. Completely without mercy.

"I'm fine."