Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“We’re all made of stories.”

Charles Lint

You know how some people are naturally good with kids? Yeah, well, I’m not one of those people. Maybe it was because I’d never had a younger sibling or I was just missing the “baby” gene but put me in a crowded room full of twenty kids, and I might as well be facing twenty dragons.

And that’s exactly what was running through my head as I stood in the middle of the packed daycare center with a bunch of six-year-olds running rampant. Storytime was not off to a good start.

Rae wasn’t much help either. She’d plopped down in a chair away from the chaos, and was currently laughing her head off. Clearly, watching me play (and fail) at babysitting was the most amusing thing in the world to her.

“I want ice cream! NOW!”

“I want to play with bubbles!”

“Can I switch pants with Melody?”

Their loud voices were not kind to my sensitive ears, and they began to merge into one high-pitched shriek.

I turned to Rae with panicked eyes. “Help me,” I hissed.

She quit laughing long enough to give me a satisfied smirk. “But you’re doing so well on your own, Ollie,” she said. “Looks like you’ve got it all under control.”

“Oh, really? That kid in the back is ripping up his shirt and making little headbands with it,” I shot back, “What about this situation looks like I’ve got it under control?”

When she shrugged playfully, I knew I was going to have to bring out the big guns. “If you don’t help me,” I said, “I guess I’m going to have to tell Hudson that you just think he’s the most handsome Beta in the world.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “I have never said that. Nor do I think that.”

“You’re right – I’ll tell him you think he’s the most handsome and intelligent Beta in the world.”

Rae glared at me, but eventually, she let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a growl and a sigh. “Fine,” she grit out, standing up from her chair, “But if I hear you yapping your tongue at Hudson about anything like that, it’ll be the last time you use it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Besides, you’re the one who volunteered me for this gig. You owe me.” Rae didn’t bother arguing with that logic, and instead, turned to the circus of six-year-olds turning the room upside down.

She clapped her hands once, and despite all the noise the kids were making, the sound echoed throughout the wooden cabin.

“Everyone, sit down! Now,” she roared.

Immediately, every single child stopped whatever havoc they were causing to sit down on the floor with wide eyes. I’d never seen so many kids turn from hyperactive demons into perfectly-behaved angels so quickly.

Guess Rae really put the fear of the Moon God into these kids.

“Nobody is getting ice cream or bubbles or switching pants,” Rae said, pointing a finger at each kid, “What you are going to get is a story like you were supposed to. Luna Baila is sick, so Ollie is going to tell you a story instead. You’re all going to be really good for her, right?”

When they didn’t immediately respond, Rae flashed her canines at them. “Right?”

There were nods all around the room, and a couple of the kids look like they were one growl away from breaking down in tears.

Rae glanced back at me. “Well, they’re all yours. Take it away, Ollie.” Without another word, she made her way back to her chair and pulled out her phone.

I took a seat in the chair positioned in the middle of the room – Luna Baila’s regular seat. The kids sat crisscrossed on the floor in front of me, forming a large circle.

“Okay,” I said, clapping my hands together awkwardly, “It’s story time.”

The kids blinked up at me.

“I don’t suppose you guys remember what story Luna Baila was reading to you?”

“It was a chapter book!” one girl in the front called out, “But I’m not sure where it is…I think she took it with her.”

I swept my eyes around the cabin, and the girl must’ve been right. There was no chapter book in sight.

Thanks for the heads up, Luna Baila.

Guess I’ll have to improvise.

I scratched the back of my neck as the kids continued to look up at me, waiting for direction.

Come on. Think, Ollie.

You need a story to tell, and I highly doubt you’re going to hold their attention with thrilling tales of your nonexistent dating life.

I mean, what’s a common bedtime story that kids like?

And then it came to me – the bedtime story that I’d always loved as a kid.

“Have you guys ever heard the legend of the Moon God?” I asked them.

Several of the kids shook their heads.

“What’s that?” one asked.

“Well, my mom used to tell it to me all the time when I was your age,” I said, “And it’s one of the most important parts of werewolf lore.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I thought about the way my mother used to tuck me in each night, her soothing voice lulling me to sleep.

“My dad told me that the Moon God was cursed!” The little boy who’d been shredding his own shirt piped up.

“That’s part of the legend,” I said, “But do you know how he got cursed?”

More head shakes.

I smiled. “Well, why don’t I tell you?”

As rambunctious as they’d been a couple of minutes ago, the kids seemed completely thrilled to hear a new story now.

Although it had been several years, I barely needed to jog my memory to remember the story. As a kid, I had loved the legend of the Moon God – so much so that I’d whine for my mom to tell it every night and refuse to hear anything else. I had practically memorized the tale. I wasn’t even sure why, but the story had always struck something deep down inside me. Kind of like when you hear a song that just scratches the right part of your brain. The story even calmed my wolf.

“Thousands and thousands of years ago,” I started, “The Moon God bound the spirit of a wolf to a human, and created the very first werewolf. And then he made more werewolves, letting them build packs that hunted and lived together.”

“Why did he create werewolves?” one kid asked.

“Nobody knows for sure,” I shrugged, “This all happened a long, long time ago.”

“Before the Roman Empire?” asked the same boy with the ripped shirt.

“Way before the Roman Empire, dude,” I replied, “I’m talking back to the Mesopotamia days.”

“Ollie, they’re six – I don’t think they know what Mesopotamian civilizations are,” Rae piped up, looking up from her phone.

“Okay, well, it was back when all people knew how to do was hunt, gather, and fight the occasional sabertooth tiger,” I clarified.

“Anyway,” I continued, “The Moon God made werewolves…but after a while, he realized that those werewolves needed more than just a pack. Wolves are meant to mate for life, so he made sure each werewolf had a soul mate.”

“Is that why we have mates now?” a little girl asked.

“Exactly,” I said, “Once you turn sixteen, you’ll be able to recognize your soul mate on sight, and you’ve got the Moon God to thank for that.”

“My sister says that not everyone gets a mate,” another little girl cut in, “She says that some people never meet theirs.”

I shifted awkwardly in my seat. “Well, that’s not true,” I said, “Everyone has a mate, but sometimes, you may not get to meet your mate before life gets in the way.”

I wasn’t sure how to tell a room of six-year-olds that your soul mate could very well die before you ever got the chance to meet them. And with pack disputes and rogues on the rise, it was more common than ever for wolves to die in battles or attacks. It wasn’t even a rare occurrence anymore, it was a real possibility that most mateless wolves had to consider.

But that felt like the kind of conversation you’d need to hear from a family member, not your substitute storyteller.

Maybe there’s some educational kid show that talks about dead soul mates in a G-rated way.

“But anyway, it’s the Moon God that created werewolves and then soul mates,” I continued, “And for thousands of years, he ruled over the werewolf world. People worshipped him, came to him with their problems and counted on him to solve those problems. He wasn’t just a deity, he was a king. Under his rule, werewolves were the most powerful creatures around. The entire supernatural world feared us.”

I paused for dramatic effect, and then added, “Until the witches came along.”

A couple of kids gasped, and I began telling the worst part of the story. “The witches did not like how powerful werewolves were,” I told them, “They wanted to be the ones on top. So, they decided to put a curse on the Moon God.”

With wide eyes, one of the kids asked, “What was the curse?”

“They cursed him into an eternal sleep,” I explained, “For the past thousand years, the Moon God has been forced to slumber, unable to wake up and rule the species that he created.”

“Is that why werewolves hate witches?” someone asked.

“Among other things,” I replied. The rivalry between werewolves and witches was definitely not something I wanted to get into with a bunch of kindergarteners.

“Is there a way to wake him up?” another little girl cut in.

“Supposedly, his curse can be broken by his true mate,” I said, “The Moon God will wake up when he’s touched by his true mate for the first time.”

There were a couple more gasps at that.

“Is it true that the Moon God’s temple is only a couple of hours from here?”

I nodded.

“Can we go visit? I wanna take a field trip!”

I cracked a smile. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re gonna have time for a field trip,” I said, “Besides, the temple is supposed to be sacred, it’s supposed to act as a crypt for the Moon God’s body. You’re only supposed to visit the temple on special occasions. I’ve never even been to the temple myself.”

“When can we go? I wanna see the Moon God,” the ripped-shirt kid whined.

“Most wolves visit the temple on the way to battle,” I explained, “They ask for the Moon God for luck before they go to war. So, unless you’re trying to battle somebody…”

That only inspired the kids to start play-fighting with each other, which was broken up quickly by one of Rae’s fierce glares.

“I think you just fired them up,” Rae told me. We’d finally gotten them to settle down, and now, they were getting ready to venture back to their homes.

Once again, Rae and I found ourselves delegated to cleaning duty, but cleaning up after six-year-olds proved to be far worse than cleaning up after teenagers.

“I wasn’t trying to,” I said, “I just thought it would be a fun story.” I found the headbands that the one kid was making out of his shirt, and began throwing them away.

“Let’s hope they don’t all start begging their parents to take them into battle so they can go see the Moon God,” Rae said, wiping down the countertops.

“I doubt it,” I said, “Besides, the whole thing is just a legend anyway. Maybe the Moon God existed thousands of years ago, but he doesn’t anymore.”

“What? You don’t think an immortal being is actually lying in that temple, just slumbering away until his true mate comes to give him a kiss?” Rae teased.

“If that was the case, then somebody should probably go tell sleeping beauty that it’s time to wake up,” I retorted, “But no. I think it’s just some empty temple that a bunch of wolves built a long time ago.”

“You never know,” Rae smirked, “That’d solve all our problems, wouldn’t it? If somebody could just wake the Moon God up? It’d stop all this war, all these power grabs…”

“You’ve got that right,” I said. It was a nice dream. To think that there was some immortal being out there that could stop all the pack disputes, to turn the werewolf back into the united force of nature we’d once been.

But that’s all it is – a dream. There’s no Moon God out there, no cursed body lying in the temple.

Or so I thought.

Little did I know just how much this so-called legend was about to change my life.

🌙🌙🌙

After an afternoon of looking after sugar-crazed toddlers, I was exhausted and took the chance to get a little shut-eye before the pack dinner. Given the way my parents died, I was used to dealing with frequent nightmares…but there was no nightmare this time.

This time, I dreamt I was in the forest, under the light of a full moon in nothing but a plain white dress.

“Hello?” I called out. Despite the full moon, most of the forest was cloaked in darkness.

Why am I here?

“There you are, little wolf.”

The raspy male voice that spoke sounded like someone had poured warm honey down my spine, and I gasped when I felt his skin press against mine. This man – I recognized that voice. This was my mystery dream man.

His chest was to my back, and although I couldn’t see much of him, I could feel how wide and tall he was. Large, tanned hands wrapped around my waist, pleasurable tingles lighting under his touch.

“Who are you?” I whispered. I turned my face to look at him, but just as I tried, his hand came up to cup my chin and keep me from seeing his face.

“Not here,” he whispered, and he was so close to me that I could feel his cool breath against my skin. “Right now, you only need to remember two things, little wolf – that I’m waiting for you, and you’re mine.”

I woke with a gasp, Rae hovering over me with furrowed eyebrows.

“Ollie?” She asked, “It’s time for dinner. You okay? Were you having some kind of nightmare? You were tossing and turning there.”

I scanned my surroundings – I wasn’t in the forest, there was no full moon, and no mystery man whispering in my air.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, rubbing my eyes, “Something like that.”

That’s the second time I’ve dreamed of this man…why does it feel like that’s not a coincidence?