Moonlight filtered through the dense forest canopy, casting scattered silver patterns on the damp earth. Colt moved with silent grace, his claws barely disturbing the fallen leaves. The night wind carried the scent of a distant stream—and something else, something foreign. The metallic tang of blood.
Colt's muscles tensed instantly, his ears pricking forward. As the youngest scout in the tribe, his duty was to protect the pack. Ever since human hunters had set up camp on the other side of the valley, the werewolves' territory had been shrinking. Last month, two pups had been struck by poison arrows while playing and never woke again.
The scent of blood grew stronger. Colt lowered his body, stalking toward the source. His golden eyes gleamed in the dark, piercing the shadows until he spotted a figure curled against the roots of a massive oak.
A human.
Colt bared his fangs, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Normally, he would have immediately returned to the tribe to report, letting the elders decide how to deal with an intruder. But something was wrong—this human was too still, and the overwhelming stench of blood was coming from her.
Colt hesitated. The tribe's law was clear: *Encounter a human? Kill on sight.* Ever since the hunters had begun slaughtering werewolves, this rule had become absolute. But the girl before him seemed no threat at all—her face was deathly pale, streaked with dirt and blood. Her light brown hair was matted with dried gore, and a vicious wound split the fabric over her chest.
"P-please..." The girl's eyes fluttered open—pale blue, like melting ice in the moonlight. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Don't... kill me..."
Colt froze. In seventeen years, he had never heard a human speak. The tribe taught that humans were ruthless, murderous creatures—enemies to be exterminated. Yet the fear and pain in this girl's eyes mirrored that of any wounded pup he'd ever seen.
"You... understand me?" She tried to push herself up, then collapsed with a whimper, her fingers clawing at her blood-soaked clothes.
Colt didn't answer. He should have turned away. Or ended her life right there. But something—an impulse he couldn't explain—made him step forward. Then again. When he stood over her, she looked up, her gaze not filled with hatred, but pure desperation.
"My name is Allison," she gasped. "I'm not a hunter... I just—"
Her eyes rolled back, and she went limp.
Colt's mind reeled. The tribe's teachings echoed in his ears: *Humans are liars. All humans must die.* Yet as he stared at this unconscious girl, he found he couldn't raise his claws.
A distant howl pierced the night—the signal for a patrol shift change. Colt had to decide now. He took a deep breath, scanned the area, and then made a choice that might change his life forever.
He bent down, carefully lifting Allison, mindful of her wound. She was lighter than he expected, like a leaf that might blow away in the wind. Adjusting his grip to support her head, Colt turned and ran—away from the tribe, toward a place no other werewolf knew.
A hidden cave. His secret refuge since childhood, where he'd escaped harsh training and tribal expectations. Now, it would shelter a human girl.
As he ran, Allison's blood seeped into his fur, warm and sticky. He didn't know why he was saving her—only that if he didn't, he'd regret it forever.
The cave entrance was veiled by thick vines. Colt pushed through, carrying Allison inside. The space was small but dry, with a faint breeze filtering in. In one corner lay his childhood treasures—smooth stones, bird feathers, a shard of broken mirror he'd found somewhere. He laid her gently on a flat stone covered with dry grass, then stepped back, uncertain.
Moonlight slanted through the cave opening, illuminating Allison's pale face. Colt realized this was the first time he'd ever examined a human up close. Her features were delicate compared to a female werewolf's, her skin smooth and furless, her nose small and straight. If not for the wound and her shallow breathing, she might have been a statue carved from snow.
"I must be insane," Colt muttered, his voice echoing off the stone walls. He turned to leave, intending to gather herbs to stop the bleeding—but a weak groan stopped him.
"Water..." Allison's eyes were half-open, her lips cracked and trembling.
Colt hesitated, then grabbed a wooden bowl he'd carved clumsily as a child. A small trickle of water seeped from the cave wall; he filled the bowl and returned to her side.
Lifting her head was a challenge. He feared his claws might cut her soft skin. Finally, he cradled the back of her neck with his forearm and brought the bowl to her lips. Allison drank greedily, water spilling down her chin and dampening her collar.
"Thank you..." Her voice was clearer now, her eyes fully open. She tried to sit up but gasped in pain and fell back.
"Don't move," Colt said—then stiffened, surprised at himself for speaking. He shouldn't have let her know they could communicate.
Allison's eyes widened slightly, then softened with understanding. "You *can* talk... I'd heard stories, but I never thought..."
Colt took a step back, his tail flicking uneasily. "You shouldn't be here. Humans don't belong in our territory."
"I didn't mean to be," Allison said weakly. "I was running... from the hunter camp..."
Colt's ears pricked up. "Hunters? You're their prisoner?"
Allison's expression twisted. She looked away, staring at the cave ceiling. "Not exactly... My father is... the hunters' leader."
The words hit Colt like a physical blow. He staggered back, claws scoring the stone beneath him. *The hunter leader's daughter?* What had he just done? Saved the child of his people's greatest enemy?
"Wait!" Allison struggled to rise as she saw his reaction. "I'm not like them! I don't support killing werewolves! This wound—" She gestured to her chest. "My father gave it to me... when I tried to stop tonight's hunt."
Colt paused, studying her skeptically. Humans were masters of deception—the elders had drilled that into him. But the pain in her eyes seemed genuine.
"Why?" he finally asked. "Why help us?"
Allison's gaze softened. "Because I've seen you... dancing under the full moon. From the cliffs, far away. It wasn't the behavior of beasts. It was... beautiful."
A strange warmth stirred in Colt's chest. A human thought their rituals were *beautiful*? That contradicted everything he'd been taught.
"I need proof," he said at last. "That you're not lying."
Allison nodded weakly, then reached for a small leather pouch at her waist. The effort seemed to drain her, and she slumped back, half-conscious. Colt carefully opened the pouch with a claw. Inside was a folded piece of cloth. Unfolding it, he found a detailed sketch: under a full moon, a circle of werewolves stood in a forest clearing, heads thrown back in a silent howl. The drawing was intricate, almost reverent.
Colt stared at it, emotions churning. Then another howl sounded in the distance—an alarm. The tribe had caught a human scent. They were gathering the warriors.
He had to return now, or they'd grow suspicious. Colt quickly tucked the pouch back beside Allison and pulled an old hide over her.
"I'll bring medicine," he said. "Stay quiet. Don't leave. If the others find you, they'll kill you."
Allison gave a faint nod, her eyes full of gratitude and fear. Colt took one last look at her, then bolted from the cave, racing toward the tribe.
By the time he reached the gathering, tensions were high. The elder Alpha stood atop the Meeting Stone, surrounded by armed warriors, their growls filling the air.
"Human scum have crossed our borders!" Alpha's voice shook with fury. "They left tracks by the western stream! Colt—you were patrolling. Did you see anything?"
All eyes turned to him. Colt's throat tightened. Allison's blood still clung to his fur.
"N-no, Alpha," he said, lowering his head. "I was east. Saw no humans."
Alpha narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring as if testing the air. Colt's pulse spiked—could the elder smell Allison on him?
"You reek of blood," Alpha said sharply.
Colt's tail stiffened. "I... caught a rabbit."
Alpha stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Prepare for battle! Tonight, we make the humans pay! Blood for blood!"
A deafening chorus of howls erupted. Colt joined in, but his heart was torn. If Allison spoke the truth—if she truly opposed the hunt—was this violence necessary?
When the gathering ended, Colt slipped away to the tribe's herb garden, gathering leaves to staunch bleeding and reduce fever. As he turned to leave, a massive figure blocked his path.
"Herbs at this hour?" It was Gray, the tribe's strongest young warrior and Colt's lifelong rival. His golden eyes gleamed with suspicion in the moonlight.
"I... got hurt during training," Colt said, hiding the herbs behind his back.
Gray's nose twitched. "Strange. I smell human on you. Ever since you returned."
A chill ran down Colt's spine. "You're mistaken," he said evenly. "Probably from the meeting. Alpha said hunters crossed the border."
Gray didn't answer immediately. Instead, he circled Colt slowly, sniffing. "Better not be playing games, pup," he finally growled. "If I find out you're betraying the tribe, I'll rip your throat out myself."
Colt stayed silent until Gray vanished into the night. Then he sprinted back to the cave. The situation was worse than he'd thought—if Gray already suspected, Allison was in even greater danger.
When he returned, Allison's condition had worsened. Her skin was ashen, her breathing ragged. Colt hastily chewed the herbs into a poultice and pressed it to her wound. Allison moaned in pain but didn't wake.
"Hold on," Colt whispered, wiping her fevered brow with a damp cloth. "I don't want you to die... I don't know why, but I don't..."
A twig snapped outside. Colt's ears swiveled toward the sound. Another rustle—something was approaching the cave.
He quickly covered Allison and moved silently to the entrance, muscles coiled for a fight. The vines parted, moonlight revealing a towering werewolf silhouette.
Not Gray.
Alpha himself.
The elder's eyes glowed dangerously in the dark, his gaze locking onto Allison. He'd known she was here all along.
"So," Alpha's voice was icy. "The rumors are true. My grandson—the future of this tribe—is harboring a human."