Chapter 263

Ava

My hand rested on my belly as I waddled through the doors, half-ignoring Chris’s presence. He sighed, letting the door fall shut behind me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, following me to the circular council table in the center of the room.

“Nothing.”

That was a lie.

It was my 40th birthday, a milestone by anyone’s standards, and yet my husband—my mate—hadn’t mentioned it once. Not even a ‘happy birthday’ kiss this morning.

Chris, oblivious, shrugged and followed me into the room.

The smooth, cool wood of the council table greeted my fingers as I settled into my chair, the leather creaking considerably beneath my weight. As I waited for the Elders to file into the room, I let my gaze wander.

Five years. It had been five years since everything had happened, and so much more had happened since then.

The Packhouse was larger now, grander, but the essence was still the same. A cobbled stone foundation and dark wood walls made from the oaks and pines of our forests. Although now, there were traces of red throughout—a gift from Bernard. He had provided us with wood planks hewn from the redwood trees of his pack when we had begun to rebuild.

Not only that, but the portraits had all been replaced. Now, the walls were no longer lined with stuffy paintings of ancestors, but rather carvings and reliefs of our lands: the bioluminescent forests, painted with moongrass juice so they would glow at night; the calm beaches, the water flecked with even more moongrass juice.

One wall was a mural of nothing but handprints in varying colors. Every member of our pack, old and young alike, had pressed their palms against the wall that day once the Packhouse had been fully rebuilt. It was my favorite part of the new building.

And of course, rather than a long, rectangular shape, the new Packhouse was a large square with a courtyard in the middle.

A courtyard which now housed our very own moonpetal tree; a gift from Alpha Winston.

He had given every pack a seed from his moonpetal tree during that very first meeting, a gesture of peace. Our tree had been planted in our courtyard, and was hardly bigger than an arm’s breadth now. But within the next decade, it would reach maturity, and soon its pink petals would cover our gardens every spring.

Our Packhouse, once nothing more than rubble and ash, had been rebuilt.

And now, it was even more than it was before; we had to ensure we could accommodate the entire First Council whenever it was our turn to host, after all.

That was the name we had settled on for the council: the First Council. And hopefully not the last. I hoped that it would continue to evolve over the generations, grow and morph and change.

Every five years, we would host it here in Moonstone. A different pack would host it each year, on the night of the Autumn Equinox—the one day of the year in which the day and night are exactly the same.

This year would be our first year hosting it. But that wasn’t today.

No, today was just like any other council meeting in Moonstone; a weekly discussion between us and our Elders, sometimes lasting for hours and sometimes mere minutes. Today, given the pain in my lower back, I hoped it was the latter.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

Chris’s voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I flashed him a withering glare.

“I said I’m fine, didn’t I?”

“Just checking. Geez.” He shook his head, his tawny hair swaying around his face as he did. He had been growing it out lately, often tying it into a knot at the back of his head, although the shorter pieces in the front often came loose.

That, combined with the first wrinkles of age and a stubbled jawline, suited him well. He was coming into his own—an Alpha in the prime of his life, just turned 31.

And I was 40. And apparently, he had forgotten.

Before I could comment, the Elders finally filed in, their usual robes swishing around them as they moved. Fatima was now the Eldest since Elise was gone, and so she took the end of the table opposite Chris.

Claire hobbled in after her; she had been leaning on a cane lately due to a sudden onset of arthritis, but her mind was as sharp as ever. And then there was Bradley, who was fully bald now, his worried eyes peeking out from beneath two bushy white eyebrows. Fourth was Paul, the second-youngest in the group, sporting a pair of wire-rimmed glasses on his thin nose.

And finally there was Meredith, the fifth Elder who had taken Elise’s place five years ago.

Her kind eyes crinkled at the corners as she strode into the room on long, slender legs, her fiery red hair loose down her back. “No contractions yet, Luna?” she asked.

I shook my head, patting my huge belly. “None yet, Doctor. This little guy is taking his sweet time coming out, just like his big sister.” Meredith smiled and nodded as she took her place. She had been my obstetrician before she was elected as Elder; she had delivered my two children before this one. She wouldn’t deliver the third, but I knew she’d be wringing her hands nervously throughout.

Chris called the meeting to order, his gruff voice commanding attention in the room. Five years of Alpha had changed him, turning his face stern and his shoulders square, but he still had that same sparkle in his green eyes.

“Let’s begin with updates on our human world initiatives,” he said, nodding to Elder Paul.

As Paul began to speak about the success of Chris’s GMO project, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride despite my anger.

The initiative had not only reduced pollution rates significantly but had also benefited millions of humans. It was a testament to how far we had come in bridging the gap between our worlds. Five years in, it was still going strong, and getting stronger by the year.

“And what about the embassies?” Elder Claire asked next.

“Construction is officially underway,” Elder Fatima said. “The human embassy right here in Moonstone will allow for safe visitation between our worlds. It’s a huge step forward in our relations.”

As the meeting progressed, I found myself reflecting on my own work over the past five years.

My trips to the human world had become regular occurrences. I had thrown myself into humanitarian efforts, helping to provide clean water and build schools in impoverished communities.

But more than that, I had taken on the role of educator, teaching children about werewolf culture, the Moon Goddess, and the importance of kindness and inclusivity between races. It was hard, but fulfilling work.

“Luna Ava,” Elder Fatima’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, “how are the moonpetal trees faring in the human world?”

I smiled, thinking of the countless seeds we had planted. The scent of moonpetals seemed to fill my nostrils for a moment, sweet and ethereal. Like home—as if a part of me had absorbed the Moon Goddess that day all those years ago, and whenever I thought of those pink petals and that bone-white bark, I became her for a moment.

“They are thriving, as always,” I replied with a dip of my chin.

In every school we had built, we had planted a seed with the children. The children cared for them, and as they grew, so did the love and protection of the Moon Goddess. The roots had likely already created a vast network beneath the human world at this point, the Moon Goddess’s protection covering their lands.

Soon, between that and Chris’s GMO, the human world would never have to suffer from pollution ever again. Already, some of the flora and fauna there had begun to revert back to the old ways; animals gaining their old intelligence, plants growing in the unlikeliest of places.

The meeting wrapped up with a slightly darker discussion: Olivia’s impending release.

Her imprisonment in New Moon was coming to an end, and soon she would be returning to Moonstone on parole. The thought filled me with a mixture of apprehension and hope, as it did all of us.

But that was not coming for another month.

As the Elders filed out, I leaned back in my chair, unable to keep the pout from my face.

“Alright,” Chris finally said, placing his hands on his hips. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to keep pouting?”

I hesitated, feeling childish but unable to hold back. The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “It’s my birthday today. Do you have anything planned?”

Chris’s stubbly face remained frustratingly neutral as he shrugged. “Oh, is it? I must have forgotten.”

My eyes widened. If I hadn’t been the size of a planet, I would have jumped to my feet.

“Chris! I’m pregnant with our third child, and forty is an important age. How could you forget?!”

To my surprise and irritation, Chris began to laugh. He knelt beside me, taking my hands in his. There were more calluses on his hands than there had been five years ago, but I loved each one.

“Ava, my love, do you really think I would forget your birthday?”

I blinked, confusion quickly replacing my anger. “But you didn’t say anything this morning…”

He grinned, that mischievous glint I loved and hated so much dancing in his eyes. “Because I wanted to surprise you. I’ve called the babysitter to take the kids, and I’m going to prepare you a romantic dinner at home, just the two of us. Is that alright with you?”

Relief washed over me, followed quickly by a twinge of guilt for doubting him. Still, a small part of me had been hoping for something more. “I suppose that sounds nice,” I said, trying to keep the slight disappointment from my voice.

Chris, ever perceptive, caught it anyway. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my belly.

“We’ll throw a real party once this little one arrives,” he promised. “How does that sound?”

I nodded, satisfied. Although realistically, it could be some time before I was well enough for any parties. But the thought was what counted.

“Now come on,” he said, helping me to my feet. “Let’s get you home. Want me to get the car?”

“I can still walk.”

“Of course you can. How silly of me.”

Together, we made our way out of the Packhouse, Chris heavily supporting my weight as I waddled across the square. Pack members brushed past, their eyes fixed on my enormous belly.

“He’s still hanging in there, huh, Luna?” my neighbor, Gemma, asked as we made our way down the path.

I chuckled, patting my belly. “Due date was last week, but… He seems to have other plans.”

“Ah, well… That just means he’s going to come out strong and healthy.”

“At the expense of his mother,” I groaned, to which Chris shook his head and rubbed my lower back.

Finally, after what felt like hours—and more than enough offers from Chris to sit on a bench while he got the car or even a nearby wheelbarrow—we made our way up the front path to our little cottage.

Well, it wasn’t so little anymore. It was twice the size it had been before; we had put an addition on when we had had our first little girl, Ellie, and then another when we had had her little brother, Mattis. We expected this one to be our last, but knowing our track record of saying the same thing with previous pregnancies… We might need another addition soon.

“I need to put my feet up,” I sighed as Chris opened the door for me.

“You do that. I’ll get started on dinner.”

But I had hardly made it through the doorway when it happened; a balloon hit me square in the face, followed by the sound of scrambling, giggles, and…

“Surprise!”