By The Light Of The Moon

Chapter 39

I stared at the familiar necklaces. The Warlord also realized they were now around his neck, and he yanked them off, dragging them over his head. His body was instantly covered in an orange shimmer with flecks of green. My heart dropped at the familiar sight, but even as I took a step back, a deep growl made me freeze.

The blonde werewolf shook its head. It – no, he – staggered a few steps before finding his balance on his hind feet. The Warlord paused when he noticed his fur-covered arms, and he twisted them this way and that. His lips pulled back in a delighted grin, exposing sharp teeth.

Narrowing his eyes in thought, he put the necklaces back on, heralding another shimmer of lights before he once more stood in his human form. His booming laugh made my blood run cold.

But the necklace was now around his neck. Not Shane's.

"Shane!"

His eyes met mine, and he threw himself against the chains as green lightning danced across his skin. With the grating of rock gravel, the anchor holding the chains came free. A flash of pure green blurred Shane's form for a mere heartbeat before a brown werewolf bared his teeth in a silent snarl. The chains had vanished.

Having seen the chains break free, the Warlord had already pulled the necklaces off. The two werewolves bared their teeth at each other. Shane dropped to all fours and advanced steadily toward us.

His foe stumbled, not accustomed to his new balance, and likewise dropped to four feet. I carefully edged away from the blonde werewolf, hoping he was sufficiently distracted with his new body and the adversary at hand. I quickly glanced at the watchdogs, who still blocked the only exit. They were wisely staying back as the powerful werewolves faced off against one another.

Shane's thundering snarl and charge reclaimed my attention in time to see the Warlord snatch his sword from the floor and point it at me. Shane slid to a stop, his claws carving furrows in the carpet that exposed the stone below. His ears were pinned flat against his head as every hair stood completely on end as he glared at the Warlord in a murderous rage.

The tent fabric glowed softly as the morning sun hit it.

"The sun will rise again," I murmured, hoping beyond hope that I knew what was coming.

Guttural growls and huffs came from the blonde wolf, who then growled in frustration.

I kept staring at the tent wall and ignored the nearby sword, knowing deep down the Warlord wouldn't kill the only thing keeping the more experienced werewolf at bay.

Realizing the same thing and knowing what I was waiting for, Shane taunted the Warlord to buy us time. "What? Wolf got your tongue?"

A snarl was his first reply. More garbled growls followed as the Warlord tried to make his demands. Shane backed up a reluctant step, possibly erring on the side of caution, but also keeping an eye on the glow advancing along the fabric.

Still pointing the sword at me, the Warlord stood on his hind feet. In doing so, his ears touched the faint sunbeam shining through the tent wall.

With a strangled cry, the Warlord went into convulsions I instantly recognized. I hastily shuffled back as Shane leapt forward, shoulder-checking the thrashing werewolf away from me. The sword dropped harmlessly to the ground with a resounding clang.

Standing between us, Shane backed up, pushing me away from the shrinking ball of orange lightning. It slowly stilled, and the lightning cleared. The mummified wolf laying on the ground was identical to the one I'd carried in my backpack, except that the fur tufts were blonde, and two necklaces hung inside the ribcage.