That night as I ventured further into the unexplored territory of our ancestral forest—a location where even the toughest wolves seldom ventured—the wind murmured secrets. Moonlight danced shadows that appeared to hide as much as they exposed as it passed through tall, old trees.
The Crescent Mark on my arm glowed brighter than it had ever done in that silvery brightness, throbbing with an almost life force. Its force, its ancient memory, compelling me to find what was buried in the depths of these woods—a mystery that had tormented my nightmares for as long as I could remember—was evident.
