MOONHUNT OF LYCANS

"Friends, family, children of the moon," Serbian's voice boomed from the top of White Rock, his presence radiating power and authority. "We gather tonight, as we always do, to witness the moonhun of this month."

Around the flickering campfire, fifty or so pack members stood, a mix of young and old, their faces etched with anticipation.

"But before we begin our hunt," Serbian continued, his voice heavy, "we must address a matter that has never before troubled our kind, a stain upon our history, a betrayal within our very ranks."

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.

My father, Grimsburg, held my hand, his eyes filled with a sorrow he tried to hide behind a strained smile.

"Caroline Moonbolt," Serbian's voice cut through the night, my name echoing like a death knell.

My legs trembled as I stepped forward into the circle of firelight.

"You stand accused," Serbian roared, his eyes glowing with a terrifying red intensity, "of treason, of consorting with our enemies."

"Brother," Grimsburg pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "With all respect, Caroline is your niece. You can't do this. She's innocent. She has nothing to do with the Ironhearts."

Serbian sneered. "Grimsburg, do you dare question my judgment? Are you calling me a liar before these witnesses?"

He gestured towards a shadowy figure.

My eyes, sharpened by my werewolf senses, recognized Lysterr, Serbian's illegitimate son.

Lysterr climbed onto the rock and handed his father a photograph.

"This," Serbian declared, holding up the picture, "was taken at the Chavalet, a restaurant in Lexington. And here..." he pointed at my face, captured in a snapshot, "...is Caroline, in deep conversation with Kent, son of Gregory, the Warlord of the Ironhearts."

A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the pack.

"Lysterr, my son," Serbian commanded, "pass this around. Let them all see the company she keeps."

Lysterr obeyed, the photo moving from hand to hand.

"You're making a mistake," Grimsburg shouted, lunging towards his brother, but two large men grabbed him, restraining him.

The picture confirmed their worst fears.

The sounds of disgust and the whispered accusations were like daggers to my heart. I had betrayed them.

"So," Serbian asked, his voice dripping with venom, "what punishment befits this betrayal?"

"BANISHMENT!" the pack roared in unison.

TRAITOR!

TAKE HER AWAY!

NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN!

BANISH HER!

Some spat at me as I knelt, tears streaming down my face. My father was held captive, his cries for help echoing in the night. My mother, miles away, was oblivious to the horror unfolding.

Serbian checked his watch. "It's almost midnight. The moon is rising."

"Caroline," he said, his voice cold, "you are hereby no longer considered as a member of the Silverfox pack. All ties are severed. You are now a fugitive, an outcast."

The pack erupted in a frenzy of condemnation.

"Silence!" Serbian's voice cracked like thunder. A hush fell over the crowd.

"On the rules guiding this pack, which include having an external affair with the Ironhearts, our sworn enemies. Caroline Moonbolt will face banishment.

You have three minutes," he continued, a cruel grin spreading across his face, "to run. Run for your life, before the moon is fully upon us."

I scrambled to my father's side. He was bruised and weak, barely conscious.

"Dad," I whispered, tears blurring my vision, "I'll come back for you. I promise."

The moon, finally free of the clouds, bathed the clearing in its silvery light.

"It's time," Serbian said, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction.

Some of the pack members began to transform, their bodies shifting into their wolf forms.

Their transformation started from the hair of their heads to the soles of their feet. The agonizing transformation was accompanied by howls, deepened by the pain of crackling bones and limbs.

HOWL! HOWL!!! HOWL!!!

The lycans cried.

I took one last, desperate look at my father; feeling helpless, I fled into the darkness of the woods.

***

I woke up with a jolt, shaken from a sleep filled with nightmares.

I had slept on the floor of my room instead of the bed, my gown covered in dirt from the woods. Thorns and thistles clung to the fabric. I had no idea how I managed to escape.

It was already dawn. As I reflected on last night’s tragedy, tears welled up.

"Why me? Why is all this happening to my family?"

I asked aloud, but no one answered—except the gentle breeze drifting in from the open window.

Reaching for my phone on the bed, I dialed a number.

A familiar voice answered from the other end.

"Kent, I need you to meet me at the Chavalet. We need to talk. Now."

How I managed to find the bathroom, I couldn’t tell. My vision was blurry from crying, but I still took a quick bath and got dressed for the day.

“You need to be strong,” I told myself.

---

It was 8:00 a.m., and the Chavalet was already open for the day’s business.

Kent nursed his glass of wine, eyes distant as he wrestled with his thoughts. His fingers drummed a restless rhythm on his forehead, betraying his unease.

I watched him, lost in my own mental haze, as I wrapped up the story of the previous night’s drama.

“After all that, I went back to my apartment, ditched my mud-covered clothes, and passed out on the couch,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It wasn’t until this morning that everything finally sank in.”

As I wiped away tears with a shaky finger, Kent wrapped me in a warm hug.

His gentle voice whispered reassurances into my ear.

“Hey, it’s okay... we’ll get through this. Together.”

His hands cradled mine, chasing away the chill with the comfort of his touch.

A waitress approached our table with a warm smile. “Good morning! Welcome to the Chavalet. What can I get for you both?”

“Just coffee for me,” Kent said, nodding toward me. “And you?”

“Coffee too,” I replied softly.

She smiled and left to place the order.

"Kent..." I looked directly into his big blue eyes.

“Yes, my love?”

“What are we going to do? I need to save my dad from Serbian,” I said.

“I know, my love,” Kent replied, his voice low and reassuring.

“I need to talk to my dad. He might have some insight on how to handle this... maybe even help set up a meeting with Serbian. Though,” he added with uncertainty, “it may or may not end well.”

“Have you talked to your mom about all this?” Kent asked, taking my hand again.

“She knows about the Moonhunt,” I said, glancing at a couple entering the café. “But I haven’t told her what Serbian did to Dad... or about my banishment.”

I looked down, the weight of everything crashing over me. “I just didn’t want to hurt them more than I already have.”

“Caroline,” Kent said gently, locking eyes with me.

I met his gaze.

“None of this is your fault,” he said. “You’re incredibly brave. A strong leader who would do anything for her family.”

I only wished that were true.

“Here’s your order,” the waitress said cheerfully, placing the tray on the table.

After a sip of the warm coffee, I sighed, feeling just a little more grounded.

“I should get going, Kent. I’ve got work,” I said, rising reluctantly and tightening my jacket.

Kent stood as well and gestured to the waitress for the bill.

I waited outside while he paid. Kent came from wealth, and he never let me pay whenever we went out.

“It’s freezing out here,” Kent said, adjusting his collar.

“Yeah, it is,” I replied, watching the busy street full of honking cars and people rushing to their destinations.

“Call me when you get home tonight. I’ll tell you what my father said after I speak to him.”

He kissed my forehead.

“Please, Caroline—don’t worry too much. Take care of your mom. Lie low and stay out of Serbian’s way. He’s dangerous. We don’t know what he’s planning. Stay safe, my love.”

“I promise,” I said—the lie sitting heavy on my tongue.

Revenge was coming. I knew it.

“You stay safe too,” I added.

I watched him cross the street and disappear into the crowd.

My car was parked nearby. I crossed quickly, slid into the seat, and drove off.

---