Astrid
The alpha's mansion was bustling with activity as the pack prepared for the full moon celebrations. Some werewolves had already begun their deep states of meditation, striving to control the primal urges that came with the night. Others, like me, chose to be out in the forest, marking and remarking our territories.
The forest was alive with the sounds of the night. Crickets chirped, and the occasional hoot of an owl echoed through the trees. My senses were heightened, every sound and scent magnified by the moon's influence. I moved through the underbrush, my steps silent and sure as I traced the borders.
I paused by an ancient oak; the bark rough beneath my fingers as I marked it. The scent of pine and earth filled my nostrils, grounding me in the present moment. But even as I tried to focus on the task at hand, a strange sensation tugged at the edge of my awareness. It was a pull, a call that resonated deep within me.
