Emma's birth-moon fell on a Moon-day. On the previous Sun-cycle, Oliver and Emma had sealed a quiet vow—to share a birth-moon feast beneath the open sky at the pack's gathering grounds, if her father did not take her away.
That passing cycle became the longest Oliver had ever endured. Each sun and moon dragged like wounded prey across time. He counted every moment, every heartbeat, every shift of light and shadow.
The night before her birth-moon stretched endlessly, like a cursed twilight that refused to yield. Oliver remained awake through it all, his mind restless, his wolf unsettled beneath his skin.
At last, the endless darkness softened into dawn.
He cleansed himself swiftly in the wash chamber and consumed his morning meal without care for taste. As always, he slipped out of his Alpha's den in secrecy.
