THE MOON IS EERIE FULL and rests atop the peak of Blackbone.
Spooky silver rays light luminous paths down to the ground and the Night is much similar to Dawn. A throng of people mill around the large cabin at the foot of the Mountain and the treeline forms a perfect circle around them.
The great trees of the forest cast seemingly sentient shadows on the ground as the people mingle and converse. As the moon shines on them, it illuminates their uncanny clothing.
The people are dressed as Vikings.
Silver light splashes on the dark woods and a running figure clears the forest, moving in haste towards the throng.
Arielle races towards the Cabin, her feet leaping over the flurry of snow. Her heart pounds like thunder within her chest but she doesn't stop.
His shifting form fills her mind again.
After Aaron had ordered her to run, she'd barely made it twenty steps before the wolf had come forth. She still remembers the agonizing sounds; the squelching of meshed organs, the painful ripping of smooth skin to reveal shaggy fur, the shrill whistle that signalled the elongation of his skull. Then nothing.
She had peered out from behind the tree as the wolf slowly rose from the snow. Winter-born and spotless. A Dire wolf. Those few seconds it spent sniffing the air, Arielle had spent using the cold snow to mask her scent.
The moment the Silver wolf turned away, she'd begun her flight.
Now as she nears the Cabin, she is more confused. The 'suprise party' is more of a feast. And the guests are all dressed in ancient winter costumes reminiscent of seafaring warriors. Due to the heavy snows, the roads up to the Mountain were all blocked, so there's only one explanation for how the people managed such a journey—they were all Shifters.
Arielle notices almost all the men are well over six feet tall, and the women boast stunning physiques which carry them fluidly across the rows of longtables and benches arranged on the snow.
Arielle walks past them in awe as the men swear and laugh, clanking wooden jars of wine together. Even their hair is spun into elegant braids, and Arielle immediately puts it to memory to get her phone. The pictures would be spectacular.
"Well, hello there," a voice sings from behind her.
Arielle turns to the sound of a familiar voice and her mouth drops open.
"Anne?" She says.
"Yes, it's me," the woman replies, her voice still holding the sing-songy lilt.
The blue-eyed woman looks the same, except she now wears a flowing ash gown and her blonde hair hangs to her waist in a neat braid.
"You're a wolf?" Arielle asks.
"Yes," the woman states matter-of-fact.
"Wow! So you knew Aaron all along?"
"I did. But I couldn't tell just about anyone his identity. He is our Alpha afterall."
Anne's last sentence has Arielle smiling. She knew Aaron had to be the Alpha. His wolf was just too fucking big.
"Were the stories real?" Arielle enquires.
"Yes," Anne replies. "Aaron is as mysterious to us as he is to you. But he is about the humblest man you'll ever see."
Arielle nods to Anne. There was no denying the silver-haired Alpha's stellar character.
"Arielle!" Another voice calls.
Arielle turns to the sound of yet another familiar voice. This one she recognizes all too well.
Fallon descends the steps to her, clad in a floor-length gown the color of dried straw. Arielle just stares at her.
The gown cinches on her narrow waist, hanging over her hips seductively and her svelte figure completes the allure. Fallon walks to her and her eyes light up.
"You look beautiful," Arielle says to her.
"So do you," Fallon replies as she twirls around in the gown.
"It's so soft." she adds.
Arielle feels the material and recognizes the texture. Its much similar to the crimson strip.
"Now," Fallon says, taking Arielle's hand in hers.
"Let's make you a ViQueen."