ATLAS
Rogues and bloody blood moons. They go hand in hand. I loathed both.
I was in Gray Pines Forest. It marked the western edge of my territory, bordering the Blackmoon Packlands. It was a neutral zone, a fucking rogue-infested area. And the blood moon was predicted today. Perfect right?
The reason I was here, I couldn't tell. I should be at the pack's cemetery, mourning Elizabeth. My ninth mate, the love of my life, but I was here finding fucking rogues that recently attacked guards on patrol.
However, I can assure you that it is my wolf's doing, because I didn't want to be here.
My wolf, Fenrik, and I had established not hunting today to let the moon pass. We hunted to our heart's content yesterday, but he had pushed me into coming here for no bloody reason. Rogue hunting often took a while; I wouldn't be surprised if I were caught here under it.
