In the silvery waterfall of moonlight, Jonathan Aztec, my second in command, holding rank as Beta of the Northridge pack, was something to behold. His powerful shoulders seemed to carry the waning gibbous, and the shadows that devoured the vast grounds of Battleridge manor granted him a wide berth.
He was a superior specimen. He was a male worthy of the ranking he'd been bestowed. But like all creatures, he wasn't born perfect, and his character flaw was a fault that bled out into the night like a severed artery: Concern.
It charged the air between us, a thick blanket that settled against the lungs like a boa-constrictor's loving embrace.
"What did you find?" I asked. The perverse silence that had entombed the dilapidated courtyard, screaming so loud it rang through my ears like a twisted lullaby, was shattered upon his approach. His boots smacked against the waterlogged ground, echoing in a way that spoke of his failures before he'd even opened his mouth. 
"Nothing,"
.......
"Until I can figure out what's going on, nobody finds out about the boy. Understand?"
"Understood."
"You're not going to ..." The pause that followed dragged out. "He's just a baby, Sterling."
"You're dismissed."

The Littlest Light

The boy, it seemed, was me, and this memory was painfully familiar.

/"Aw, you were a pretty cute kid,/" Kenai sniggered. /"What happened? They can't see you, by the way. You're just watching your own memory back like it's a movie. Neat, right?/"

I barely heard him. Instead, all I could do was release a shaky breath as the voice that I never thought I would hear again hit the air.

Ready to answer, feeling a long-forgotten bubble of panic arise at his harsh, no-nonsense tone, it didn't ease even once it became apparent that it wasn't me of whom which he was speaking. Or, big me, at least.

Tiny me, seven, if memory served, snapped to attention, his eyes going so wide. He was trembling, teeth fighting a chatter, but like the good little soldier he was, he was quick to answer.

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