Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted

The unmistakable scent of ocean and pine hits me before I even round the corner to the cottage we've emptied for the Aspen Pack's use. Lucas said something about it being a voluntary sacrifice on the part of some of our pack members; I have to remember to get their names.

I'm not sure what I can do to show our gratitude, but there's probably something. Maybe extra rations. Practicality goes farther than luxuries these days… Or am I thinking too simply? I'll have to ask Lucas what he usually does in these situations.

I prefer meat, Selene offers.

Grimoire hums. I'd rather have a new book.

Not helpful. But I guess it means I should learn more about the people to understand what they would prefer.

A vaguely familiar face opens the door when I knock, but I can't quite place it. Clayton's standing with his back to me as he speaks with two other wolves. My steps falter momentarily.

I haven't seen him in a long time; since I made it clear I chose Lucas.

It would be strange not to feel a little anxious in this situation.

"Baa baa black wolf, have you any wives? Yes sir, yes sir, three lives' time," the ghost sings overhead, twirling in erratic circles. "One for the master, and one for his dame, and one for the little girl who lives without shame."

He's getting more coherent, Grimoire notes. Interesting.

And more annoying, Selene grumbles.

"Both of you, hush," I mutter under my breath.

Clayton turns at the sound of my voice, and I brace myself for... what, exactly? Coldness? Resentment? Pain? His name has felt synonymous with the block of guilt I've carried in my chest for months.

But his expression is open, his green eyes clear as he dismisses his guards with a brief nod.

"Luna of the Westwood Pack," he says, inclining his head respectfully. "I was hoping you'd find time to check on us."

My steps stutter again, but for an entirely different reason. There's no shadow crossing his face, no hint of our complicated past in his demeanor. Just genuine respect.

Grimoire's attention piques. Well, well. Looks like someone's gotten over his little crush.

The proper title, Selene says, sounding oddly pleased.

I mentally shush them again as I close the distance.

"How are your wolves settling in?" I ask, finding my voice steadier than expected.

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances." Clayton gestures toward the temporary quarters Lucas assigned them. "Your mate has been impressively accommodating, considering the situation Westwood is in. It is greatly appreciated by all of us."

Movement over his shoulder catches my attention. Several Aspen guards I recognize from my time in Cedarwood are doing… something. Emptying duffel bags and suitcases.

One of them notices me watching and offers a respectful nod. "Luna Westwood."

Not Ava. Not Miss Grey. Not even ma'am or miss. Just the proper address for the Luna of another pack.

My lips curve.

Clayton extends his hand. "It's good to work with the esteemed Luna of the Westwood Pack," he says with a warm smile. There isn't a hint of regret or shadow in his eyes. They're clear and guileless, staring at me for who I am. The me now, the one without him by my side. "Lucas chose well."

I take his hand, and it's just a handshake. No electricity, no charged moment. Just a respectful greeting between two pack leaders.

It almost makes me feel silly for worrying about the past.

"You know, I never properly thanked you," I say, surprising myself.

Clayton raises an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For helping me when I needed it. For being a friend when I was lost." The words come easier than I expected. "I don't think I would have found my way back to Lucas—or to myself—without that time."

He hesitates, before offering a faint smile. "We all serve our purpose in each other's stories, Ava."

The ghost swoops down between us, making Clayton step back instinctively. The spirit passes harmlessly through him.

"The pine tree's sister dances with shadows! Shadows creep and shadows swallow! The silver-haired woman sleeps beneath silver moon, but not for long, not for long!"

Clayton's entire body goes rigid. "What is that?"

"A ghost," I explain quickly. "He's been following us since we found him near the perimeter. We can't touch him, and he won't leave."

His gaze follows the twirling spirit with newfound intensity.

"I think..." I hesitate, unsure how to say this. "I think he might know something about Ivy. He talks in riddles, but he mentioned 'the pine tree's sister' just now. He's mentioned her before, too. But we can't get anything out of him yet."

Clayton's jaw tightens, but his composure doesn't crack. After a long moment, he nods. "Thank you for telling me. If you learn anything concrete from it, I'd appreciate being informed immediately." He looks at me directly. "I defer to your expertise in these magical matters."

I almost laugh at that. "Ghosts aren't magic," I say automatically.

They're closer to magic than wolf, though, Grimoire counters in my head.

The Aspen alpha runs a hand through his hair with a rueful chuckle, though his eyes are cold when he watches the ghost float by. "Whatever they are, they're outside my realm of experience. I'll trust you to handle it."

* * *

On my way back from the Aspen wolves' cottage, I run into Lisa—almost literally. She has a cigarette in hand and looks stressed. I blink.

"When did you take up smoking?"

"Huh?" Her brown eyes stare at me in confusion before she looks down at her hand. "Oh. No, it isn't a cigarette. It's a candy."

I tilt my head. "A cigarette candy?"

The ghost, ever-present at this point, sings, "Smoke rings, ghost things, coughing in the dark—Cancer's just a bedtime kiss if you miss the mark!"

Lisa flinches and stares at the strange spirit giving its best impression of a ballerina beside her, but shakes off her unease as she answers. "Mm. Yeah. Eleanor gave it to me."

"I see." There isn't much else to say about a sweet shaped like one of the most cancerous addictions in the world. Though the ghost seems to have plenty to sing about it.

Lisa looks... better than earlier. The shadows under her eyes have lightened, and her shoulders are more relaxed. She tucks the candy into her pocket and tilts her head. "What's up?"

"How's your leg?" I ask quietly.

"Better today." Her smile reaches her eyes this time. "I fought him off. He wanted me to come, and I just… said no."

My brows arch. "That's amazing."

Kellan was part of the ambush, Selene says thoughtfully.

Grimoire hums. It's a little sound he makes when he's thinking.

I want to ask about the beta's condition, but Lisa speaks up before I can. "Eleanor and Pip are getting along surprisingly well."

"Really?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice. Pip didn't seem particularly enamored with being here; while she doesn't appear to think of us as enemies—anymore—she doesn't consider us her allies, either.

I'm not sure how far we can trust her.

"I know, right? I thought the princess would be all snooty with her, but they're like two science nerds at a convention." Lisa laughs. "Eleanor asks these super specific questions about magic that even Magister Orion seems impressed by. She's documenting everything in her journal. The Fae princess seems to appreciate Eleanor's interest in their people."

"Speaking of the Magister..."

"Oh! He said to tell you he's taking over Eleanor's initial training. Something about freeing you up for more important tasks."

I grin. I'd wanted to ask him to do just that. "Perfect. He's a great teacher."

"I think he likes having a student who actually listens. He's looking at her like she's the cutest puppy in a litter."

I lean against the wall, taking a moment to just breathe. For what feels like the first time in forever, things are flowing smoothly. The compound is still tense, the threats still loom, but in this moment, there's a sense of order amidst the chaos.

"You look good," Lisa says suddenly. "More... I don't know. Settled?"

I think about Clayton's respectful greeting, about the Aspen guards' acknowledgment, about Magister Orion stepping up to help without being asked. Our pack was just ambushed, but things are still moving smoothly. It's as if things are coming into place again.

Like we have a chance to breathe, even in the midst of all this chaos being thrown at us. We've gotten stronger. Come so far.

It's… nice.

A strange word considering the grim situation.

"Sunshine, lemonade, sugar on a spoon! Kiss me in the garden, dance beneath the moon. Laughter in the lilies, hearts that beat in two—but don't forget, my darling, the grave remembers you!"

"I feel good," I admit, staring at the blue, blue sky. "Like I'm finally becoming a proper Luna." I wonder if Lucas agrees.