It was not just a moonfire however. Her lodge now bore the semblance of a sanctuary, once a cage, for secret training which ultimately would forge Aria's future. A new, disciplined routine would take to heap upon the ashes of her old life. By day, she was meek, quiet, watching exile. She ate what was given to her, spoke only when she was spoken to, and dropped her eyes so that the Stormfangs could see only what they expected: a broken wolf thankful for the handful of mercy thrown his way from the table of their Alpha.

But at night, a different Aria surfaced. Under a high moon, when the village lay asleep, she could be found in the center of her lodge, practicing. She reached inside herself, reached for the volatile cocktail of love and rage that would hold the key to her power. This was work of the frustrating, exhausting kind. Moonfire was a fickle, elusive thing. Some nights, she could summon a steady, silver-blue flame that danced in her palm for several seconds, casting ethereal shadows on the walls. On other nights, she could muster up nothing more than a faint, fleeting spark, despite her best efforts.

She ended each session feeling drained, as if a hollow ache had settled deep into her bones. But with each flicker of success, a glimmer of hope returned. This power belonged to her. Her shield. The one thing in her life from which Kael Stormfang could not snatch.

Days passed, which melted into weeks, and my pack changed subtly. Her quiet dignity and refusal to cower would, quite slowly, start wearing down the edges of hostility. The open glares and muttered insults became less common, replaced, for a time, by a curious wariness. The pack children, bolder than their parents, would sometimes stop and stare at her from afar. One morning, a barely teenage she-wolf left a small, intricately woven wildflower charm on her stepping ground, small gesture of silence for acceptance or perhaps pity.

Lyra as well, her most severe keeper, showed early signs of softening. Her clipped, formal voice continued to bear little color, but she took lately to leaving extra blankets beside the hearth against cold nights and seeing to it that Aria's water pitcher was always full. One evening, she halted outside at the door while taking Aria's meal inside.

"Open harm is kept away from you because of the Alpha's decree," she said, frostbitten eyes flashing something possibly close to a warning, "but whispers have a life of their own. Not all here are pleased with a Nightbane wolf in our midst. Be careful."

For Aria, the warning only compounded the deep disquiet stirring inside her belly. Kael was certainly her shield, but not an absolute one. He controlled deeds his pack did but not what their hearts felt.

Kael continued to watch her from a distance, though. As she walked through the village, she could feel his golden eyes upon her, heavy and possessive, missing nothing. She knew he saw the change in her; the hollow despair in her eyes was being replaced by a hard, determined spark. Of course he misinterpreted that as the eye of a wolf finally accepting her place and having her spirit slowly bend to his will. The dramatic irony was a small, bitter comfort. All the while, he thought he was taming her, while she was secretly sharpening her claws.

Stood by the stream at the edge of the village one afternoon, he cornered her there.

"I see you adjusting," he said, his voice a low, smooth purr that set her teeth on edge.

"Your pack is… accommodating," she replied, using the most careful of terms. "They know their Alpha's will," he said, stepping closer. "And they know you are mine to protect." The emphasis on "mine" served as a reminder for her. He was testing her, probing for weakness, for submission. She simply met his gaze with a blank mask, offering nothing to him. A flicker of frustration crossed his face before he turned and left her in peace.

The true danger, however, revealed itself late one night. Aria could not sleep and stepped out of her lodge into the fresh night air, attempting to cool her thoughts. The village was dark, most fires banked to glowing embers. She remained hidden under the deep roof shadows, which was part of the habit she had since she adopted this new, careful life. It was when she heard voices-the low, angry whispers of two warriors huddled near one of the lodges that bordered her own.

"I don't care what the Alpha says," one snarled thickly through the resentment, "my brother died in the last border skirmish with the Nightbane. Now we are supposed to house one of them? We're supposed to treat her like an honored guest?"

"It is not our place to doubt," the other one replied, but the tone was far from convincing.

"It is our place to protect this pack!" hissed the first warrior. "She is a bad omen. A Nightbane witch. Since she came here, the hunt has been less successful, and the scouts have seen Nightbane patrols near our borders. She brings their trouble with her. If the Alpha is too blinded by her scent to deal with the problem..."

He left that hanging in the air, a threat more menacing than any open shout.

"What are you suggesting, Torvin?"

"I am suggesting," Torvin growled, his voice dropping even lower, "that sometimes, a snake in the den needs to be dealt with before it has a chance to bite. If the Alpha won't remove her, perhaps someone else should."

Aria shrank back into the shadows, her blood turning to ice. Lyra's warning, Kael's protective cover-neither really mattered. Kael had declared her secure, but he was mistaken. The hunt had not passed her by. She was simply led into another, more complicated snare. The hunters were now inside the walls with her.