Await The Moon

Leap of Fate

The roar of splintering wood from the bookshop's back door spurred Clara into action. There was no time for grace; only survival. She swung her long legs over the sill, her heart hammering wildly against the thin fabric of her dress. The fire escape, slick with a thin layer of night dew, groaned under her weight.

She descended quickly, each step a prayer not to slip. Below her, a dark shadow, faster than any human, darted across the lit window of the shop floor-the Hunter was inside. Clara risked a glance over her shoulder, confirming the woman's terrifying speed.

As she reached the bottom rung, she knew she couldn't simply run down the main street. The Hunter would be on her in seconds. She looked toward the dense woods that bordered the town-the Oakhaven Glade-a place rumored to hold more shadows than trees. It was madness, but it offered cover.

She landed lightly on the wet cobblestones and ran, her slippers barely cushioning the impact. The familiar scent of wild mint-Moonsly's scent-was suddenly strong here, clinging to the edge of the woods. It was a sign, perhaps, that she was running toward his territory, not away from it.

A high, piercing whistle cut through the night, echoing from the shop. Clara didn't hesitate; she plunged headlong into the darkness of the Glade.

Just as she broke the tree line, a large, powerful hand clamped around her wrist. Clara screamed, ready to fight, but the hand was warm, and the thumb traced a comforting, familiar pattern on her pulse point. She looked up, and her luminous blue eyes met the desperate, amber gaze of Moonsly.

"You shouldn't have run without me, little moon," he whispered, pulling her deeper into the shadows.

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