It doesn’t help that the forest is dark and gloomy, and the chill that settles in my bones is way too strong for my dampened wolf to fight. A werewolf is supposed to be hot-blooded enough to stand the frigid Alaskan Winters, but right now, my wolf doesn’t seem to be working.
Staring down at my frostbitten fingers, I take a drawn-out deep breath, internally wishing I’d thought to bring a jacket along. I wasn’t counting on being this cold, but it’s more than just the biting weather with its snowfall that has me feeling chilled.
Alpha Elias is responsible for this. He’s the one who made the final push possible when I impulsively decided to leave Girdwood and the pack for good. The decision may have been spontaneous, but it was the right—
“Gah!” I gasp, startled when a sudden burst of heat erupts from my belly, spreading out to every nerve ending in my body and pulsing from the source at the apex of my thighs. The jolt sends me keeling over, clutching my arms over my belly, alarmed by the frenzied sensations rolling over me. The pain that grips my core is nagging, and I feel my face contort with anguish.
I can’t handle it anymore; my legs spurred into motion only to get me to a place of safety. Running purely on instinct, I can’t care if it’s a product of my witch or my wolf.
All that matters is getting somewhere, anywhere, that I’m not irritated by the snowflakes whispering across my cheeks or catching in my hair. The stark contrast of the cold Alaskan air is frightening against the sudden heat that erupts throughout my body, and I need to find a semblance of sanity to make sense of what’s happening to me.
I’ve never been in such gnawing pain before, the gripping ache between my thighs forcing me forward until I find a cavity at the base of the mountain large enough to fit me. Scurrying into the cave, I fall to my knees and buckle over, hugging my belly as whimpers and groans leave my lips.
“What’s happening…?” I groan to myself, squeezing my eyes shut only to see the dark silhouette of a man flashing behind my eyelids. As a gasp of realization hits me, another one of Grandmother’s stories comes to mind.
The she-wolf’s heat…
Unlike the tale about the demon dog, a female werewolf in heat isn’t something unheard of. Every she-wolf with a reproductive system is bound to feel the surge of hormones when it’s time to reproduce.
Only my mother didn’t experience this since she wasn’t a werewolf. But even then, after conceiving me, my grandmother had witnessed the pain she endured when her hormones flared while she carried a werewolf’s child and went in heat.
The excruciating pain that I feel now is almost unbearable, and I cannot imagine what my mother went through when she suffered the same fate as a witch without a wolf to soothe her. My own dysfunctional inner wolf isn’t strong enough to dilute this pain, and I’m left to ride it out, my breath coming in hot pants as sweat beads my forehead.
“Moon Goddess…I need you right now…” I pray under my unsteady breath. I hardly have any reason to call out to the mother of all wolves residing in her ethereal abode in the skies, having faced too much trouble in the pack I grew up in to care about being an active devotee. Mother Selene was cruel to give me the short end of the stick with my dampened wolf, and I never cared about those bonfires to celebrate her.
My separation from my faith started the night of my eighteenth birthday when I waited for my wolf to emerge, and it never came. Growing up, I’d hoped that the coming of my wolf abilities would give me a better standing in the pack.
As if that wasn’t enough torture, that was the same night Alpha Elias rejected me. I couldn’t have drifted further from my dwindling faith that night, but tonight, I desperately need the connection to my creator.
It’s the only thing that might get me through this pain, and as I begin to climb down from the horror, my faith is mildlyreignited. Perhaps she’s watching me pitifully from her throne and knows that I can’t bear these punches anymore. Perhaps that’s why she sent the vision of a man’s silhouette to help me through the worst pain of my life.
After what feels like an eternity, I’m able to breathe again, the pain subsiding into a dull ache that lingers between my thighs. It’s more intense than the cramps I get monthly during my menses, but what’s more alarming is the dark silhouette of a man behind my eyelids every time I close my eyes.
Who was that?
And why was he there during the most painful few minutes of my life?
There are so many questions running rampant through my mind, but one sticks out distinctly.
Why have I suddenly become so attuned to my inner wolf that I’m able to be in heat?
It’s never happened before, so why now, when I’ve left the pack?
Is severing ties with the Snehvolk Pack detrimental to my usually dormant wolf?
Sighing my discontent, I plop onto my rear with my back pressed against the moist rock of the cave. It isn’t much in terms of comfort, but it will have to do for now. After what I just experienced, I need to catch my breath and rest, even if it’s for an hour. Then I can continue my journey to Hope—the small town that resembles Girdwood, occupied by humans who are unaware of the existence of supernatural creatures. It’s where the werewolves of Snehvolk travel to gather resources, some of them walking amongst the humans to work ordinary jobs for the upkeep of their lifestyles in Girdwood.
Closing my eyes, a sigh escapes my lips as I’m about to doze off, but my moment of peace is interrupted when the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle, alerting me to a sudden interruption. My eyes spring open, and the air that leaves my lips mists in front of my face.
A dreary chill sets in, amplifying the already cold temperature of my snowy surroundings. I gather myself forward on my knees and palms, sneaking a peek out of the corner of the cave’s rocky archway.
That’s when I see it, my breath catching in my throat just as my heart skips a frightened beat.
I’ve heard countless stories about the sinister spirit, the demon dog, but I never imagined the fear of seeing it with my own eyes. Almost paralyzed to the spot when I meet the dog-like creature’s maliciously dark eyes, I’m fixed in a trance that makes it impossible to breathe.
I can only move my eyes, my gaze flickering to the rest of the demon. Its body is a tough shell of the darkest, shaggy coat, its paws coasting the snow blanket covering the surface of the ground in front of the cave. It seems to be floating forward without haste, its every move calculated as it holds my gaze in the ominous, dark abysses of its hungry eyes.
A purple tongue juts out, and a set of razor-sharp, yellow teeth flashes under the glimmer of the moonlight. The vile creature is almost hideous, but the presence of evil and wickedness follows the demon as it saunters toward me.
