The Moonlit Curse

Ch 9: Rogue

Hadyn turned slowly in the snow, expanding his senses beyond that of a human's, and then even further passed the ones of a standard lycanthrope. He reached for the magic passed down by his father, his grandfather, and his great grandmother before him, all the way back to the moon goddess herself when she walked among mortal men.

There were scarce few werewolves with this power. He only knew of two that currently lived. Himself, of course, and August. But August had forsaken any claim to his birthright long before Hadyn knew him. He sometimes wondered if his old friend could even access those powers anymore. A curiosity that he buried before it ever became a true thought.

Twenty-two years ago, on the easternmost border of his territory, he had found August in a broken state. A lone alpha on the verge of going full rogue. It took him two whole years to convince August to officially join the pack. Over that time, August's heart began to heal and slowly learned to trust again. Eventually, he confided a great deal of his traumatic past to Hadyn, and he would never squander that trust by poking at a pulsating wound.

His duty to August was the same as to all members of his pack. To give him a home where he felt safe, loved, and supported. A future he could look forward to instead of a past to run away from. He still preferred to live in town and away from the pack. But he was no less loved by all. And, while Hadyn and many others questioned his choice at times, there were endless advantages to having another alpha living in the town.

For one, it had been August who introduced Hadyn to Elora. He still didn't understand how August 'just knew' that they were perfect for each other, but he owed August a life debt for it. Elora was the love of his life. His wife, his mate, his luna, the mother of his two beautiful children and of many others yet to be born.

For another, like now, the pack knew immediately when there was someone new in town and a perfect excuse to be around the newcomers nearly constantly until it could be determined if they could be trusted. But these six guests were not trustworthy. They were soldiers.

The mere thought of capital soldiers on his ancestral land made Hadyn's blood boil and a growl ripped from his throat. The last time the king's army marched north was three hundred and fifty years ago. There were many territorial battles at the time, many of which were surely written in great detail in the official history of the Westmoran kingdom. The battle in the north was not one of them.

Battle wasn't even a fair description. Slaughter was a better fit.

The mountainous population, werewolves or not, were not warriors. They were hardy and solitary, content with trading with the neighboring lands when necessary, so long as they were left alone. But that wasn't good enough for the king and his court. They wanted land, resources, and everything else they could get their greedy little hands on. Hadyn's ancestor had no choice but to bend to the king's rule.

So they did. Under one condition.

Never again would the military step foot on their mountains. Hadyn's ancestor didn't care if the king assigned the 'official' local authority, and they didn't care if the capital had full control of the trade routes. But it would be Hadyn's family who would defend the northern borders and ensure the safety of its people. Name didn't matter. They had ways of determining the authenticity of one's bloodline.

The king agreed. So has every king and queen since.

Until now.

The capital had, at least, given the magistrate an abundance of notice beforehand. The military generals had listened to their complaints and arguments. But they still sent six of their soldiers north, claiming that these soldiers had no interest in starting conflict with humans. They were from the Monster Hunter Corps, following up on the legend of werewolves in the area.