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Summary
The wind changed.
There was something unright about the black wolf. Golden-eyed, whip-thin. Too long of snout and limb. Among the trees, he might have been a shadow thrown by a wholly different creature–or, from the angle of the light, by Arthur himself.
Arthur had never seen him; Arthur knew him. It couldn't be, and wouldn't be beneath the sun. But it was Wolf Moon now, and Arthur's pack was somewhere in the woods, going on without him, while Arthur stood frozen as a deer, naked paws on the leaf litter, naked fur beneath the white moon, too exposed away from the safety of the brush–because he was a fool who charged in, because he was the apex predator in these woods, until he wasn't.
As prince of the Camelot wolf pack, Arthur has fought his entire life to be worthy of his title and his father's pride. When he meets a strange wolf with a too-familiar scent on the first full moon of the new year, he must decide what's really worth fighting for.