Chapter 8: Taken by the Claws

Elara pressed herself against the cold rock, Kael's body a shield between her and the snarling chaos spilling from the tunnel. The ledge was narrow, a precarious shelf jutting over the valley, the wind whipping her hair into her face as she clung to her bag. Below, the drop was sheer—hundreds of feet to jagged rocks and twisted pines—but up here, the wolves were the real threat. Their growls reverberated, a dozen sets of yellow eyes glinting in the dusk as they poured onto the ledge, gray fur bristling, teeth bared in hunger.Kael's claws flexed, his breath a steady rhythm against her neck, his warmth the only anchor in the storm. "Hold on," he murmured, voice tight with focus. "I'll get us out.""How?" she whispered, her heart slamming against her ribs. Twelve wolves—too many, even for him. She felt the tremor in his muscles, the strain of holding back the beast, and knew he'd fight to the death if it came to it. For her."Trust me." He shifted, angling himself to block the tunnel's mouth, his shirt tearing at the seams as his shoulders broadened, the shift simmering just beneath his skin. "When I move, run left—there's a path. Don't look back.""No." She grabbed his arm, fingers digging into the tense muscle. "I'm not leaving you.""You will," he growled, golden eyes flashing. "I can handle them. You can't."She opened her mouth to argue, but the wolves lunged, cutting her off. Kael roared—a sound that shook the ledge—and met them head-on, claws slashing, teeth snapping as he plunged into the fray. Fur flew, blood sprayed, the air thick with snarls and the copper tang of violence. Elara stumbled left, her boots slipping on loose gravel, searching for the path he'd promised. It was there—a thin trail hugging the cliff, barely wide enough for her feet—but the fight held her gaze, a brutal dance she couldn't tear away from.Kael was a whirlwind, his half-shifted form towering over the pack—claws raking one wolf's flank, a kick sending another skidding toward the edge. But they were relentless, coordinated, darting in and out, nipping at his legs, his back. A gray wolf leapt, jaws clamping on his shoulder, and he snarled, twisting to hurl it off, its body tumbling into the abyss with a fading yelp. Another took its place, then another, their numbers wearing him down."Elara, go!" he shouted, voice raw, blood streaming from his shoulder. She hesitated, torn, then bolted, her bag bouncing as she navigated the path. The ledge curved, hiding her from the fight, but the sounds chased her—growls, thuds, Kael's guttural cries. Guilt clawed at her, but she ran, trusting his strength, his promise.The path widened into a plateau, a flat expanse of rock and scrub, and she stopped, gasping, scanning for cover. A rustle behind her snapped her head around, but it wasn't Kael. Three new wolves emerged—not gray like Darius's scouts, but silver, their fur shimmering in the fading light, their eyes a cold, piercing blue. They moved differently, silent and precise, fanning out to block her escape."Shit," she breathed, backing up, her hand fumbling for the crowbar in her bag—the one she'd grabbed from the observatory. She pulled it free, gripping it like Kael had taught her, feet wide, heart racing. "Stay back," she warned, voice shaking but firm.The lead wolf—a massive female with a scarred muzzle—tilted her head, almost amused, then shifted. The air shimmered, and a woman stood where the beast had been—tall, lean, her silver hair cropped short, her skin pale as moonlight. She wore leather, patched and practical, and a smirk that chilled Elara's blood. "You're the starborn," she said, voice smooth, cutting. "Darius was right—you're small.""Who the hell are you?" Elara swung the crowbar, a warning, but the woman didn't flinch."Sylva. Silver Claws." She stepped closer, the other wolves circling tighter. "We don't answer to Darius. We take what we want. And right now, that's you.""Why?" Elara's mind raced, stalling for time. "I'm nobody.""You're everything." Sylva's smirk faded, her blue eyes narrowing. "Your blood—it's the key. We'll prove it."Before Elara could swing, a wolf lunged from her left, jaws snapping. She dodged, stumbling, and struck with the crowbar, hitting its skull with a dull crack. It yelped, retreating, but Sylva moved—fast, too fast—grabbing Elara's wrist and twisting. The crowbar clattered to the rock, and pain shot up her arm as Sylva pinned her, a knee in her back, her breath hot on Elara's neck."Hold still," Sylva hissed, binding Elara's hands with a cord from her belt. "You'll thank me later.""Like hell," Elara spat, thrashing, but the other wolves closed in, their growls a cage. She heard Kael's roar in the distance, faint but furious, and hope flared—he was alive, fighting. "He'll come for me," she said, glaring at Sylva."Let him try." Sylva hauled her up, shoving her toward the plateau's edge, where a rope ladder dangled into the valley. "Move."They forced her down, the ladder swaying, her bound hands fumbling for grip. The valley floor was a maze of rocks and streams, shadowed by cliffs, and the Silver Claws led her through it, their silence unnerving. Sylva walked ahead, her wolves flanking Elara, their blue eyes tracking her every stumble. Her glasses slipped, smudging against her nose, but she couldn't fix them, her mind spinning with escape plans—none viable, not yet.They reached a camp—an overhang carved into the cliff, strewn with furs and weapons, a fire pit smoldering in the center. Sylva pushed Elara onto a pelt, kneeling to tie her ankles, the cord biting into her skin. "Comfortable?" she mocked, standing."Go to hell," Elara snapped, twisting to sit up, her bag still slung across her chest—miraculously unconfiscated. The Lunar Covenant was inside, her only weapon now.Sylva laughed, cold and sharp. "Feisty. Good. You'll need it." She turned to a wolf—a wiry male with a notched ear—and nodded. "Test her."The wolf shifted into a man—thin, scarred, his grin all teeth. He pulled a knife, its blade glinting, and crouched beside Elara, grabbing her arm. "Let's see what you're made of, starborn," he rasped, slicing a shallow cut below her bandage. Blood welled, red and bright, and he smeared it on a stone, watching it with a fanatic's gleam.Elara hissed, pain flaring, but held still, her mind racing. "What are you doing?""Proving a point," Sylva said, crossing her arms. "If you're starborn, it'll show."The blood didn't glow, didn't spark—nothing dramatic—but the man frowned, sniffing it, then licked the stone. Elara recoiled, disgust twisting her gut, but Sylva's eyes narrowed, intrigued. "Faint," she murmured. "But there. Moon's touch.""You're insane," Elara said, voice steady despite the fear. "This isn't science—it's madness.""Call it what you want." Sylva waved the man off, her smirk returning. "We'll keep you alive. For now."The camp settled, wolves lounging, Sylva sharpening her claws—human now, but no less deadly. Elara worked at her bonds, the cord loosening slightly, her fingers raw but persistent. She needed time, needed Kael, but the howls she'd heard had faded, leaving a hollow ache in her chest. Was he hurt? Dead? The thought clawed at her, sharper than the knife.Night fell, the moon rising—gibbous, near full, its light spilling into the camp. Elara's blood prickled, a strange heat under her skin, and she froze, staring at the cut. It was healing, faster than before, the edges knitting in the moonlight. Starborn. The word echoed, less absurd now, more terrifying.A roar split the night, raw and primal, and the camp erupted. Kael crashed through the overhang, a black-furred titan, his golden eyes blazing with rage. Wolves leapt, but he tore through them—claws ripping, jaws crushing, blood painting the stone. Sylva shifted, silver fur gleaming, and met him, their clash a storm of fury.Elara twisted, the cord snapping free, and scrambled for her bag, pulling the crowbar. She swung at a wolf lunging for her, the metal cracking its ribs, and it yelped, retreating. Kael roared again, hurling Sylva against the cliff, her form crumpling, and the remaining Silver Claws scattered, their howls fading into the dark.He shifted back, staggering, naked and blood-soaked, his chest heaving. "Elara," he rasped, stumbling toward her, hands outstretched."Kael!" She dropped the crowbar, catching him as he fell to his knees, his weight heavy but alive. "You're hurt—God, you're hurt.""I'm fine," he lied, voice thick, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. She clung to him, his skin hot against hers, the scent of blood and pine overwhelming. "They didn't…?""No." She pulled back, checking him—cuts, bruises, a deep gash on his thigh. "They cut me, tested my blood. Said it's starborn."His eyes flared, possessive, pained. "Bastards. I'll kill them all.""Later." She tore her sleeve, pressing it to his thigh, her hands shaking but sure. "We need to move."He nodded, leaning on her as they stood, his arm slung over her shoulders. "East," he said, voice fading. "There's a stream—cover our scent."They limped away, the camp a ruin behind them, the moon watching as they fled. Elara's mind buzzed—starborn, blood, Kael's rage—but his weight against her, his breath on her neck, grounded her. They reached the stream, shallow and cold, and collapsed on its bank, the water lapping at their feet."You came for me," she whispered, tending his wounds, her fingers gentle on his torn skin."Always will," he murmured, catching her hand, pressing it to his chest. His heartbeat thumped under her palm, strong, defiant, and she leaned into him, forehead to his, the world narrowing to their shared breath.The howls were gone, but the night wasn't safe—not yet. They'd rest, heal, then run again, bound by blood and moonlight, one step closer to the truth.