[Lyanna’s POV]
The memory of escape flickered through my mind like candlelight against darkness—how perfectly Korin had orchestrated every detail.
The guards at River Post had been deep in their cups, singing bawdy songs that masked my footsteps as I slipped past. The patrols had been redirected to the eastern border, chasing phantom threats Korin had somehow conjured.
Under the moonless sky, my path had opened clear and unobstructed, as if the Moon Goddess herself had blessed my flight.
I remembered the surge of relief when I found the supplies exactly where he promised—dried meat, water, gold coins sewn into a plain travelling cloak.
The first river crossing had felt like absolution, the cold water washing away not just my scent but years of suffocating duty.
When Grimhowl's territory finally fell behind me, I had allowed myself to imagine it—my sons running free through meadows instead of training grounds, learning to laugh instead of fight, growing old instead of dying young.
But now, three days into my escape, that precious hope crystallized into ice in my veins.
The howls echoed through the forest behind me, and I knew with sinking certainty these were not Grimhowl wolves. These were rogues—packless hunters who recognized the scent of a pregnant she-wolf traveling alone.
"Keep moving," I whispered to myself, my hand pressed against my swollen belly. "We have come too far to fail now."
My body screamed its protests with every step.
Three days of hard travel had pushed me beyond exhaustion, and the triplets seemed to sense my distress, their movements increasingly agitated.
The crashes through the underbrush grew louder, more deliberate. The hunting calls echoed from multiple directions now, coordinated in a way that made my stomach clench with understanding.
They were herding me.
"She tires," a voice called out, close enough that I could hear the amusement in it. "The little Luna grows weak. How much longer will you run, pretty wolf?"
They were playing with me, I realized with crystal clarity. Letting me exhaust myself before closing in for whatever horrors they had planned.
My mind raced through possibilities, each ending the same way—a pregnant Luna against a rogue pack stood no chance. Not in human form, weakened by pregnancy. Not in wolf form either.
Still, I ran.
Branches tore at my traveling cloak, leaving scratches along my arms. My breath burned in my lungs like swallowed fire, each gasp a struggle against the weight I carried.
The forest seemed endless, every tree identical to the last, my carefully memorized route now meaningless in the chaos of flight.
"Why do you run, Luna?" Another voice, this one female, sharp with cruel pleasure. "We can smell your fear. We can hear your heart racing like a rabbit's. There is nowhere to go."
"My Alpha will come for me," I called back, hating the desperation in my voice. "Grimhowl Pack will not forgive this insult."
Laughter rippled through the trees, cold and knowing. "We have been watching. We know about the blood on your cloak, the performance at the river."
Of course they’ve been watching. That's what rogues do—they watch from the shadows, they have eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing escapes their notice.
My foot caught on an exposed root, sending me tumbling forward. Instinct took over—I twisted mid-fall, taking the impact on my shoulder and side, protecting my belly at all costs.
Pain shot through my body as I hit the ground hard, but I felt the babies move, still safe, still alive.
I scrambled to my feet, but it was too late.
Dark shapes emerged from the shadows, surrounding me in a tightening circle. Seven of them, maybe eight, all bearing the lean hunger of wolves without pack or purpose.
The leader stepped forward—massive and scarred, with eyes that held nothing but appetite. The marks across his face spoke of countless fights, countless victories over those foolish enough to resist.
"Such a pretty thing," he said, his voice cultured in a way that made it worse, as if brutality wore the mask of civilization. "Do you know how rare it is to find a Luna so far from her territory?"
I pressed my back against the rough bark of an ancient oak, covering the Grimhowl Pack's emblem with one hand, as if it now had any meaning. The other hand’s finding the small knife Korin had given me.
"Stay back," I warned, though we all knew the threat was hollow. "I am under the protection of…"
"Of your pack?" he interrupted, stepping closer with the confidence of a predator certain of its meal. "Why haven't they shown up yet then?”
“Looks like the bond between Luna and her Alpha is not strong enough to sense the danger," someone laughed cruelly.
"Please," I said, hating myself for begging but willing to abandon all pride for my children. "I carry three innocents. Whatever grievance you have, they have done nothing to deserve…"
"Deserve?" The scarred leader laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "The forest does not care what anyone deserves. But do not fear too much, pretty Luna. We have uses for you beyond the obvious.”
“A pregnant female, especially one carrying multiple pups, can be quite valuable to the right buyers." another adds.
My blood turned to ice. Slavers.
"Save your strength for what comes next," the leader advised with mock kindness, gesturing for his pack to close in. "You will need it for the journey ahead."
The circle tightened, cutting off any possibility of escape. The small knife in my hand felt like a child's toy against their numbers.
"The first one who touches me bleeds," I promised, my voice steadier than I felt. "I may be one against many, but I am a mother protecting her young. You will pay for every step you take toward us."
The leader smiled, showing teeth that had tasted too much violence. "Brave words, little Luna. Let us see if your courage lasts beyond the first…"
A howl split the night—not from the rogues, but from somewhere beyond the circle. Deep, authoritative, and unmistakably Alpha.
The rogues froze, their confidence wavering as the sound was answered by another howl, then another. A pack approached, and from the disciplined response, not another band of rogues.
"It seems," the scarred leader said, his amusement fading, "that you are not as alone as we thought."
The forest held its breath as we all waited to discover my salvation. The knife trembled in my hand as I pressed harder against the oak, my sons stirring restlessly within me.
The rogues shifted nervously, caught between their prize and the unknown threat approaching. Their leader snarled a command I could not hear over the blood pounding in my ears.
"Please," I whispered to any power that might listen. "Let them live. Let my sons live."