Stolen Mate

The Nightshade warrior lunged, claws slashing the air where my head had been. I stumbled back, the lunar flower clutched to my chest, its icy petals biting into my palm. 

"Run!" Rylan's roar tore through the grove as he tackled the warrior from behind. They crashed into the underbrush, snarls and fists colliding. 

I hesitated, torn between the flower and the fight. 

"Go, Elara!" Rylan pinned the warrior, blood streaking his temple. "I'll hold him!" 

The warrior twisted, raking his claws across Rylan's shoulder. Rylan hissed but held firm, locking the man's arms. "The flower *now*!" 

I turned and ran, the warrior's howls echoing behind me. Branches whipped my face as I wove through the grove, the flower's glow guiding me like a beacon. Shouts erupted in the distance—more patrols, closing in. 

A hand yanked me sideways. 

"Down," Rylan growled, shoving me into a hollow beneath a gnarled root. He crouched over me, breathing hard, his blood dripping onto the leaves. 

"You're hurt—" 

"Quiet." 

Boots pounded past, Nightshade warriors cursing as they fanned out. Rylan's body shielded mine, his stolen uniform reeking of juniper and sweat. 

When the footsteps faded, he slumped against the root. "Let me see the flower." 

I uncurled my fingers. The lunar blossom pulsed faintly, its light dimmer. 

"It's fading," I whispered. 

"Because we're not done." He tore a strip from his tunic, binding his bleeding shoulder. "Morana said it needs moonlight. We need to get it out of this damned grove." 

"But Nightshade's swarming—" 

"They'll expect us to flee *out*. So we go deeper." 

I stared at him. "Deeper into their territory?" 

"Their dens are northwest. The border's crawling with patrols, but the heartland…" He smirked, though pain tightened his face. "They won't think we're stupid enough to hide there." 

*** 

We moved under the cover of sinking darkness, avoiding trails and streams. The forest grew denser, the trees twisted into grotesque shapes. Rylan's steps were sure, his knowledge of the terrain unnerving. 

"You've been here before," I said, stating the obvious. 

He didn't look back. "Lived here. Before Darius exiled me." 

"Why?" 

"Question later. Silence now." 

A howl rose behind us—closer. Rylan cursed, pulling me into a narrow crevice between two boulders. His body pressed against mine, his breath warm on my neck. 

"They're tracking the flower," he muttered. 

The lunar bloom's glow had brightened as the moon rose, betraying us. I shoved it into my satchel, muffling its light. 

"Better?" 

"Not enough." He peered into the dark. "We need to cross the Blackvein River. Their sentries avoid it—superstitious fools." 

"Why?" 

"They think it's cursed. Drowns wolves who disrespect the moon." 

I almost laughed. "And *we're* not superstitious?" 

He glanced at me, moonlight catching the scar on his jaw. "We're already cursed, aren't we?" 

*** 

The river was a ribbon of black ink under the stars. Rylan waded in first, hissing at the cold. "Stay close. The current's strong." 

The water clawed at my knees, then my waist, stealing my breath. Halfway across, a shout rang out. 

Torches flared on the bank. 

"There!" 

An arrow hissed past my ear. Rylan yanked me under just as another struck the water. We surfaced downstream, gasping, the current dragging us toward jagged rocks. 

"Hold on!" Rylan hooked an arm around me, fighting the pull. The river spat us onto a gravel bank, our bodies battered and shaking. 

The flower tumbled from my satchel, glowing brighter now, revived by the moon's full gaze. 

Rylan collapsed beside it, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "Told you… stupid plan… would work." 

I coughed up river water. "You call this *working*?" 

He grinned, sharp and alive. "We're not dead." 

*** 

By dawn, we'd reached the edge of Nightshade's heartland. The dens were crude structures of bone and hide, smoke rising from central fires. Women sharpened weapons. Children sparred with sticks. 

Rylan's face hardened as he watched them. "They train pups to kill before they can walk." 

"You were one of them," I said softly. 

"Yeah." He turned away. "Still have the scars." 

We circled wide, sticking to the forest's edge. The lunar flower thrived now, its light a steady pulse. But as we neared a rocky outcrop, Rylan froze. 

A lone figure stood ahead, back turned—a Nightshade sentry. 

Rylan's hand found mine, his grip firm. "Distract him. I'll strike." 

"No killing." 

"No promises." 

I stepped into the open, raising the flower like a lantern. The sentry turned, eyes widening. 

"What the—" 

Rylan moved like shadow, disarming him in one motion. The man gasped, but Rylan slammed his head against a rock. Not dead—unconscious. 

"Happy?" He wiped his hands. 

I nodded, though my stomach churned. "Let's go." 

The border was close. Freedom, too. But as we slipped into the trees, a horn blared behind us—long, mournful, shaking the sky. 

Darius's voice followed, thunderous with rage. "FIND THEM!"