Page 38 of The Cursed Wolf King

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LOGAN

Emerging from the icy grip of Raven’s Pass in my wolf form, I shook myself. Water flew in droplets, but my fur was still stubbornly wet. The cold was a jolt to the senses, a wake-up call in the pre-dawn mist that hung low to the ground. This territory, reclaimed by the Shadow Moon Goddess’ favor, lay on Orion lands by a thread—a thread barely thick enough to give me the cover I needed. And I needed every bit of it.

Between my jaws was a sack with my change of clothes inside, dry for now as I held it as high as possible over the river water. My wolf and I debated, my wolf’s instincts clawing at me to stay in wolf form where I could be faster, less detectable.

He was right, and it would be safer, but if I wanted to track down the old woman and pull any kind of information out of her, I’d need to communicate with words. She’d already proven she was slippery and shrewd. If I went inunprepared, she’d slither out of my reach before I could get a straight answer.

The damp air filled with scents—Heraclids somewhere in the distance, their usual ashen musk mingling with a tang of burnt herbs that wafted near, cloaking other scents in its path.

I padded forward to a spot off the beaten path, dropping the sack on the wet earth. My wolf bristled, unwilling to shed his form and lose our advantage, but my instincts told me this was the place to shift.

I exhaled, letting my body loosen and begin the shift back to my human form. Bones reshaped and muscles adjusted until I was crouched on the ground, fingers digging into the soil.

As I began to reach for the sack, a soft gasp sounded behind me. “Oh.”

I stilled, every sense snapping into high alert. I turned slowly, my pulse thudding in my ears, my hands hovering above the soil as I took in the figure behind me.

A woman, wrinkled and weary, sat on a stool a few paces away. My wolf surged forward, pushing against my control, ready to pounce, to neutralize this unexpected threat. I stood my ground, waiting to see if she’d make the first move.

Her hands rested on her knees, fingers steady, as though I hadn’t startled her at all. The woman—no, an elder, with a face deepened by time and eyes shadowed with untold years—sat there calmly. My wolf flared up, ready to lunge if she so much as moved to sound an alarm.

She didn’t. She simply… watched me.

Her lips pursed, taking me in, and I was surprised by thecalm that radiated from her. It was like she was seeing more than the man, and my wolf cocked his head, curious. The stillness stretched, until she let out a low exhale and broke the silence.

“If you intend to go deeper into Heraclid lands,” she murmured, “then you will need this.”

I dressed quickly in clothes that would allow me to blend in with Heraclids, slipping a knife into my belt. She reached into a small leather pouch on her hip, drawing out a few dried herbs. She began twining them together, her fingers deft, her movements calm. The scent of them hit me—a blend of smoke, moss, and something else earthy and subtle. She held out the bundle steadily, waiting.

“Rub it into your chest and carry this in your pocket.”

I eyed it warily. “This will mask me?”

The barest hint of a smile curved her lips. “You didn’t scentmehere, did you?”

I hadn’t caught a whiff of her until she’d made herself known. The herbs—whatever combination she’d crafted—concealed her scent completely. It might actually give me the edge I needed. Still, I couldn’t stop the question from escaping my lips, barely more than a whisper. “Why are you helping me?”

She studied me, as though searching for something hidden within my own silence. Finally, she sighed, looking away toward the trees. “I’m not sure,” she said. “A hunch. You smell like someone I care about.”

She knows Eve.Something was created between us—an unspoken connection, an unguarded moment that slipped past the barriers, even in these enemy lands.

Her hand was warm as I took the bundle from her, nodding my thanks, which she returned.

It tookme the full day to reach the Heraclid city. The streets stretched out before me like a maze, twisting alleys and roads with buildings that pressed down from all sides. Even though I was moving by the cover of night, I knew the herbs had done their work in masking my scent. No one seemed to notice me, but my senses felt muted. My wolf was annoyed by the dullness, uneasy in the unfamiliar haze.

I could move silently and undetected, but the herbs robbed me of my instincts, that sharp edge I relied on.

A shifter down the street lifted his head as I passed, his nose twitching. He didn’t look twice. A thin line of sweat formed at my brow as I maneuvered past him. I needed to be quick, in and out. The deeper I went, the more I realized I wasn’t quite sure where I was. It had been a long time since I’d last come, before I was an alpha, and I’d accompanied my father.

My father had made me memorize this place, insisting it would matter one day. And here I was. Some things had changed, but the layout remained the same—unchanging with the times, like the Heraclids themselves. I turned a corner, catching glimpses of familiar landmarks, each helping me orient myself bit by bit. Just as I started to regain my bearings, a familiar rasp cut through the muffling fog of the herbs.

“About time.” The witch who told me of the curse.I recognized her voice immediately. Of all the people, I did not expectherto be the one to identify me on Heraclid lands. Her plea echoed from somewhere up ahead, quiet but distinct. “Follow my voice and get me out of here, Alpha Logan.”

I stiffened, every instinct flaring. I didn’t waste a second, my steps quickening as I moved, trying to look natural. It felt wrong—I was too exposed—but I was close.

She called to me like a beacon while her scent grew stronger, leading me directly to her.

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