Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted novel Chapter 349

Once all the refugees are settled in, I spend time checking on the laundry. In the winter, it’s an effort to get done, but we now have several hand-pump wells located in strategic areas around the compound, making it a little easier.

The biting cold nips at my cheeks as I make my way to the laundry area.

"Good morning, Luna Ava," a chorus of voices greets me as I enter.

I smile, nodding to each of them. "Good morning, everyone. How are we doing today?"

My eyes land on Tess, her gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her stern expression softens slightly as she meets my gaze. "Luna, we’re managing. These new refugees have doubled our workload."

"I’m here to help," I say, rolling up my sleeves. "What needs doing?"

Tess points to a pile of sopping wet clothes. "Those need wringing out and hanging. Mind the cold—it’ll freeze your fingers if you’re not careful."

I nod, grabbing a bucket of wet clothes and get to work, in tandem with another she-wolf. She’s newer, a refugee from the Twilight Ridge Pack.

"How are you settling in, Mara?" I ask her.

She gives me a shy smile. "It’s different, Luna. But good. Everyone’s been so kind."

"I’m glad to hear it." Once the clothes are wrung, we head outside to hang them, where they’ll freeze on the line and slowly evaporate until they’re dry. "If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask."

We work in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the snap of fabric in the wind and the occasional grunt of effort. My fingers are numb, but I keep going. These clothes need to dry, and every pair of hands helps.

"Luna," Tess calls, "could you help gather the frozen clothes? They’re nearly dry."

I nod, moving to the lines where stiff, icy garments hang like bizarre winter decorations. It’s a strange sensation, peeling them off the line. They crackle and crunch.

"Where do these go?" I ask, arms full of frozen clothes.

Tess gestures to a series of shelves along the wall. "Sort them by size on those shelves. These aren’t for any specific cabin."

I nod, carefully placing each item in its proper place. As I sort, I chat with the other she-wolves, learning about their days, their families, their concerns.

"How’s your little one doing, Sarah?" I ask, folding a tiny pair of pants.

Sarah beams. "Growing like a weed, Luna. He’s already trying to shift, but we tell him he’s still got a few years left before he finds his wolf. He doesn’t believe us."

As we work, the conversation flows freely. The she-wolves speak of their mates, their children, the latest pack gossip. I listen, soaking it all in.

* * *

With the laundry sorted and hung, I stretch my aching muscles and head out of the building. While laundry might seem like a simple task, it’s rougher work than you’d think.

Pulling my coat tightly around me to block out the biting air, I find myself longing to check on Lucas now that I have some precious free time.

"Selene, have you seen Lucas?" I ask, my voice hopeful.

He’s out on reconnaissance, Ava. Left a few hours ago.

I sigh, disappointment settling in my chest. "Of course he is. We’ve barely seen each other lately."

It’s the nature of your positions, Selene replies, her tone sympathetic. Would you like to check the perimeter? It might help clear your head.

"Mm. Yeah, I guess. Any news while I was busy?"

Vester’s group returned a while ago. No refugees with them this time.

Taking a deep breath, I focus my energy and begin to infuse a little more of my magic into the ward. It’s a delicate process, requiring concentration and control. Too much power could overload the ward, too little would leave it weakened.

As I work, I can feel the ward strengthening, its energy intertwining with mine. It’s an oddly intimate sensation, like I’m leaving a piece of myself behind to protect this place.

When I’m satisfied with the ward’s strength, I open my eyes and nod to the others. "Let’s move on to the next one," I say, my voice soft but firm.

The wind picks up, sending a shiver down my spine despite my warm coat. I pull it tighter around me, grateful for its protection against the biting cold.

"Vanessa," I call out, glancing back at the healer. "How much further until we reach those herbs you’re looking for?"

She looks up from where she’s been studying the ground, a small smile on her face. "Not too far now."

As we trudge through the snow, Grimoire speaks up again, distant and contemplative. You know, glyphs weren’t created by humans. They’re patterns drawn by magic itself.

"I thought it was an ancient language."

In a way, yes, it is. But not one made by people. The words written on my pages are the language created by witches, inspired by the runes we use.

Huh. So, witches knew about the runes.

Yes. The different designations of magic-users came later on.

Fascinating. The history of Lycans and magic always catches me by surprise as I learn more of them.

I admit, it’s a rather simplistic way to boil down the history. There’s much more to it, of course.

"Why are you telling me this now?"