CHAPTER 133 STRANGE OLD MAN

Minerva The alpha's mansion was bustling with activity as the pack prepared for the full moon celebrations. Some werewolves had already begun their deep states of meditation, striving to control the primal urges that came with the night. Others, like me, chose to be out in the forest, marking and remarking our territories. The night's sounds were alive in the forest. Crickets chirped, and the occasional hoot of an owl echoed through the trees. The moon's influence heightened my senses, amplifying every sound and scent. As I traced the borders, I moved through the underbrush, my steps silent and sure. I paused by an ancient oak, the bark rough beneath my fingers as I marked it. The scent of pine and earth filled my nostrils, grounding me in the present moment. But even as I tried to focus on the task at hand, a strange sensation tugged at the edge of my awareness. It was a pull, a call that resonated deep within me. On the full moon, the mate's pull attracts a werewolf. The word whi