Chapter 5
The Path of the Moonpetal
The scent of damp earth and pine needles clung to the air, a familiar comfort that usually settled Kai’s restless spirit. Tonight, however, it was laced with a new, sharp tang of worry. The moon, usually a radiant pearl in the inky sky, seemed muted, its light diffused as if through a veil of sorrow. It was this shadowed moon that had lent its name to the growing unease within the wolf pack, a creeping sickness that stole the strength from their limbs and the spark from their eyes.
Kai, no bigger than a badger cub in his human form, pressed his ear to the rough bark of the ancient oak that stood sentinel near the elders’ den. The voices inside were low and grave, a murmur of concern that tugged at his heart. He could make out Elder Maeve’s voice, a steady, melodic hum, and the gruffer tones of Roric, his worry a rumble in his chest.
“The Moonpetal,” Elder Maeve’s voice drifted out, soft as falling snow. “The legends speak of it. A bloom that drinks the deepest moonlight, capable of mending what the shadows have broken.”
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