Chapter 39 - Thirty Nine
The moon was full that night, wide and glowing like a silver lantern hung high above the treetops. It cast a soft, eerie light over the new territory we had claimed as home. The air smelled like pine needles and new beginnings. Everything was still, waiting.
We stood in the meadow again, just beyond the stream. The same one Darius and I had circled on our first morning. But this time, it wasn’t just about us. This night belonged to our daughter.
Erya was bundled in a soft cloth against my chest, her eyes blinking slowly as if the moon itself had lulled her into a dream. Around us, the few wolves who had followed us from Thornridge stood in a circle. Quiet. Watching. Respectful. They understood what this moment meant.
"Are you ready?" Darius asked, his voice a low murmur in my ear.
I nodded. "As I’ll ever be."
We walked together into the center of the circle, and I gently placed Erya on a small, flat stone that had been warmed by the sun earlier that day. A crown of soft herbs and tiny flowers rested on her head, carefully braided by one of the older wolves who believed in tradition. She called it a blessing crown.
I knelt beside Erya and looked up at the sky. The moonlight bathed her in silver. Her little hands waved in the air. Her eyes sparkled.
Darius stepped forward, voice deep and sure. "Tonight, under the witness of the Moon, we present our child to the land. To the stars. To the wolves of old. May she be known. May she be seen. May she be accepted."
A hush settled over us.
My wolf stirred.
Something ancient moved through the trees. I could feel it in my bones—a hum in the air, as if the land itself was holding its breath.