Page 4 of Howling Holidays

"Something's been troubling you lately," Grandma observes, fixing me with her keen gaze. "I can see it in your aura. The blue is murky, clouded with grey."

I huff a small laugh under my breath. My rational mind rejects such abstract concepts as auras and mystical energies. But I've witnessed enough of my grandmother's uncanny intuition over the years to know her readings contain some truth, even if I don’t fully understand them.

"You're not wrong," I concede after a thoughtful pause. "The Angst Moon is getting close. Its effects always mess with my nerves."

She nods solemnly. The full moon that emerges every December brims with a power unlike any other. We simply call it the Angst Moon, as it seems to bring misfortune and sorrow since the curse's earliest days. My father's death. My mother's disappearance. Other pack tragedies, too numerous to count. Its arrival fills me with as much dread as awe for the unknown forces it stirs to life. Maybe the Angst Moon had something to do with my encounter with the rogue wolf earlier.

"The unrest that moon brings runs deeper than old wounds this year. You feel it calling you toward some change on the horizon, and it frightens you." My grandmother speaks with the calm assurance of one stating a simple fact.

I stare at her, eyes widening fractionally. "Am I so easy to read?"

"Only to me, dear boy. I know you too well." Her gaze holds mine, softly probing. "Do not fear change, Logan. It comes for us all in due time."

I break contact first, discomforted by her perception. She’s right, of course. Since autumn's first frost, I'd felt a shift in the ether - subtle undercurrents indicating something momentous lurking ahead. Such omens traditionally preceded upheaval and tragedy. I can’t let more darkness descend upon this pack or my family. We’ve endured enough.

"My duty is to maintain stability and order," I reply finally, choosing my words with care. "Whatever this omen brings, I have to face it with discretion."

Grandma's eyes cloud with concern, but she holds her tongue, respecting my authority as alpha. In truth, she worries for me. Alphas before me had support in their mates, wise advisors, and betas to share the burden. I refuse to take a mate, possess only one trusted beta, Ethan, and keep my own counsel on matters of leading the pack. My isolation is self-imposed, but complete.

I rise abruptly, my desire for solitude and movement overriding good manners. "I'm going to run patrol of the town before turning in." The wind's insistent howl beckons me. I must answer or fail my station as alpha.

Grandma lifts her mug in silent salute. "Listen for the spirit's guidance. The answers you seek are already within."

Cryptic, yet sincere. I place a brisk kiss over her head. "Bolt the door behind me."

Snow swirls through the cones of light from the porch lanterns. I stride beyond their glow and keep walking, boots sinking into fresh powder as I cross the yard's expanse toward my truck. I climb in and fire it up, my wolf simmering under the surface ready to run free in the woods.

The wind howls like a wild beast as I make my way toward town. Snowfall dances across the road, reducing visibility to barely a foot ahead. The old truck's wipers beat furiously, barely keeping the windshield clear.

My hands clench the steering wheel, knuckles white. I've made this trek in blizzards before, but each time feels like a test. A test of my reflexes, my endurance, my will. Any sane person would have turned back by now, found shelter to wait out the worst of the storm. But the wolf in me won't be deterred.

The dark pine trees loom like silent sentinels on either side. I know these woods like the back of my hand, but tonight they feel ominous. The shadows seem to shift and stir just out of sight.

I shake my head, gritting my teeth against the chill that has nothing to do with the temperature. It's just my imagination playing tricks, dredging up old fears from my childhood. There's nothing out there but snow and wind.

A branch cracks, echoing through the woods like a gunshot. Adrenaline surges through me as my senses heighten, wolf rising close to the surface. For a moment, I swear I glimpse a hulking form keeping pace with the truck just within the tree line.

But when I look again, there's nothing. Just shadows and snow.

I force my attention back to the road. I can't let ghosts from the past distract me. The pack depends on me to keep them and the town safe.

My fingers ache with tension on the wheel, but determination burns hot in my chest. I've survived worse than howling winds and childhood demons. This storm is just one more challenge to conquer.

And I refuse to be beaten.

I finally reach my favorite spot at the entrance of the woods behind the tree farm and hop out of the truck. My shoulders knot with tension uncoiling as I enter the comfort of the woods. The forest welcomes me as its own.

Through the maze of firs, I move steadily onward, the monochromatic landscape stripping away all distraction. Snowfall mutes the usual night sounds - no scurrying mice in the underbrush, no hooting owls to herald the late hour.

At last, I reached the flat slab of stone marking the gateway to our sacred ritual site. Our lore says that this stone lays unearthed since the dawn of shapeshifting, a gift from the goddess Luna herself. Pack meetings are usually held at the tree farm since its easiest, but the most sacred rituals are held here like lunar blessings and rites of passage. I carefully clear snow from its grooved surface, fingers tracing the swirling lines meant to invoke primordial magic.

The stone resonates with energy as old as time itself, connecting me to all those who came before. As shifters, we can transform anywhere but doing it here at this sacred site infuses me with power and energy unlike any other. Tonight, my chaotic thoughts refuse focus. I’m too unsettled, pulling like fraying yarn between past losses and future unknowns. I hope the stones spirit infusion grants me the strength to lead with wisdom and calm my unrest.

I turn my back on the stone, peering far into the forest. Release awaits within its shadows. I can no longer deny my wolf's calling. Shucking my boots and clothing takes barely a breath. I step naked onto the boulder, inhaling the scent of ancient pine and new snow. Energy thrums from the stone's secret etching into the soles of my feet, filling me with purpose.

The incantation flows effortlessly, the words smoking from my lips on frosty exhales. "I call upon my ancestors, spirits of this sacred wood. Tonight, I seek your blessing. Unleash the wolf within!" My spine ripples, muscles seize, as I become something more. Fur spreads down elongating limbs as I arch forward. The pain is inconsequential, forgotten as soon as my paws hit the snow.

In a flash, I’m racing through the woods, darting between trees at supernatural speed. Snow flies around me in a blizzard of white. The wolf's joy at our liberation echoes my own. I let it take over, trusting its instincts as we run through the untouched wilderness. Here there are no pack squabbles to settle, no disputes amongst townsfolk. The forest contains only moonlight and shadows, prey and predator, the purity of the wild.

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