Heart of Stone (Parts I & II)

I. Chapter 10 | Part 1 - Stone

They had donned some loose-fitting shorts, as meeting outside pack members naked was considered rude and a display of dominance.

Stone last met with Colten, alpha of the North Fang werewolf pack north of Minneapolis, about six months ago and preferred to avoid him when possible. Not that Colten was a bad guy or leader, it was that two head-strong males created friction, especially when one was a lycan and near immortal and the other was not.

The winter solstice was a time when lycans and werewolves came together in their respective states to worship the Moon Goddess. Lycans were more inclined to worship her at every solstice and equinox, whereas werewolves typically only attended the winter solstice, as that one required attendance. Perhaps they had their own ways of worshiping the Goddess the other times of the year, but that was none of his business as far as he was concerned.

Werewolves were different from lycans. A weaker sub-species, as it would seem. Sure, they transformed completely into wolves at will and had some heightened senses, mind-linking capabilities, and soulmates as well, but lycans were far superior in strength, agility, and healing capabilities. Werewolves could heal wounds within hours, whereas lycans could heal within minutes. Lycans could live until they were killed by dismemberment, whereas werewolves lived about a century. The oldest werewolf known to live was one hundred and fifty years. The oldest lycan, four millennia. There was only one such lycan left in existence, and she was revered like a queen. She belonged to what was once a small group called the Ancients, the first lycans ever created by the Moon Goddess, and in a sense, she was a mother to them all.

Amora moved from pack to pack, never staying too long in one place. She always said her soul was restless since her mate was killed at the fall of the Roman Empire two millennia ago. Stone believed she was more afraid of being targeted and putting her host pack in harm's way. So she moved from pack to pack, never telling with whom she was going to stay with next.

He spent the first fifty years of his life with her and met her three times in his life after. The last time he saw her, she visited to offer her condolences after the murder of his mate.

She never changed. She always looked like a goddess.

Stone growled under his breath, looking up at the sun in the sky. What was taking Colten so long?

There was a particularly large rock left behind from the last ice age next to a small lake in a place they called Attala, where meetings were held with the werewolves when necessary.

Large oak and birch trees grew along the shore of the lake with bright green ferns sprouting from underneath. Spring was later than usual this year and the leaves on the trees had just unfurled a week ago.

Gunner was sitting on one of the large rocks along the lake's shore, his feet cooling off in the shallows after running around for hours. The oldest in their group and a distant cousin of Stone's, Gunner was leaning his elbows on his knees and watching the minnows swim around his toes.

His physical appearance resembled Stone in many ways. They both had square jawlines, blue eyes, and blond hair, although Gunner cropped his hair short and his nose was more sharp and hooked. He was three inches shorter than Stone and more built. He was Stone's muscle. He trained Gwen and Gavin when they were pups, pushing them to their limits to strengthen and tone them. Gunner was so meaty that he intimidated humans. He looked like a bodybuilder on steroids, only he took none. He was also the quietest one in the group, ever since his mate was killed. Stone hadn't even been born then, and she was killed shortly after they found each other. Apparently, Gunner had never been the same after that. He withdrew into himself, preferring to keep his thoughts and feelings hidden from others.