Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted - Chapter 369

Chapter 369: Ava: Camp
We’re about to call it quits and find a spot to camp when something pings the edge of my magical radar.

Of course, I want to go straight there and purify it. But we still have to put up the tent, start a fire, and make dinner, and it’s over a mile away.

It’s one thing to make myself suffer; it’s another to force the others to set up camp in the dark because I want to push our timeline.

The sled slows to a gradual stop, runners creaking against packed snow. That pulse of dark energy beckons, but the practical part of my brain overrides it. Night comes early, and I can always get to it in the morning.

Wiggling out from under the mass of blankets keeping me warm during our run—which has spanned a much larger area than we normally would, with how little corruption we’ve run into—I grab the flat pack I’d been sitting on for hours.

Vanessa’s already unhooked the wolves from the sled, and they shift right there in the snow.

The pack had been wedged beneath me during the ride, keeping their spare clothes from freezing solid. A simple solution, but effective. My body heat combined with the magic flowing through me meant the clothes would be wearable, if not exactly toasty.

“The taint feels different.” I stretch my legs, stiff from hours of sitting. “More concentrated.”

“All the more reason to rest and prepare properly.” Vanessa throws sets of thermal gear at the naked shifters, who get dressed with a speed I cannot replicate. “We don’t need you collapsing from exhaustion again.”

“I didn’t do anything today,” I protest. Which is true. Aside from clearing up a few mini clouds we’ve run into, I’ve just enjoyed a long-ass ride behind four wolves who’ve broken trail all day.

They’re the ones she should worry about.

But they just shimmy into their clothes, acting as if they’ve done little more than go for a brisk evening jog.

Our breaths puff white in the gathering dusk. No one complains about the cold—we’re all too focused on getting camp set up before full dark.

Marcus and Greg make quick work of clearing a large rectangular space, laying two tarps across the packed snow. Their efficiency speaks of years of experience; I’m still working on what everything is that’s been packed into our sled.

The rest of us work together to unload, but I’m more of a hindrance than a help.

“Stand back.” Marcus pulls a long bag from the sled.

The tent goes up in minutes, poles snapping into place with satisfying clicks. With all of them working together, it looks effortless.

I duck inside to help with the wood stove, fitting the pieces together while Marcus tosses sleeping bags onto the ground behind me.

“Where’s everyone else?” The tent feels empty, and the break from the wind is heavenly.

“Gathering wood and hunting.” Marcus peers out the tent flap. “Speaking of which—can you sense prey with your magic? Might make tracking easier.”

“No, nothing like that.” I secure the last piece of the stove. “My magic’s not that sensitive. I can sense corruption and dark energy, and sometimes people—especially if I’m attuned to them—but regular animals are beyond me.”

It is possible, Grimoire’s voice echoes in my mind. But you’re nowhere near ready for that level of expertise.

A quick mental check reveals Selene’s absence. Where are you?

Hunting, comes her reply.

Greg returns with an armload of kindling and several larger pieces of wood, perfect for starting the fire. He deposits them near the stove and disappears back into the growing darkness without a word.

“At least we’ll be warm soon.” I arrange the kindling in the stove, grateful for the promise of heat.

Vanessa stamps her feet before coming in, dropping off a few canvas bags. “The water’s frozen, so we’ll have to melt some snow. Great job on the stove, Ava.”

It’s a small compliment, but I preen. The first time I had to figure out how to put one of these small metal stoves together, I had no idea what I was doing. The idea of having a fire inside a tent was horrifying, in fact.

Marcus pulls a lighter from his pocket and gets the fire started with practiced ease; even though I can do it with magic, he prefers the old-fashioned way. Says it just isn’t right, relying on magic that way. The kindling catches quickly, and soon the stove radiates a gentle warmth through the tent.

Vanessa rummages through our supplies, pulling out a folding table and various bags of food. She sets up the table with military precision, organizing ingredients into neat piles.

“Aren’t we waiting to see if they catch anything?” My curiosity takes over as I watch her sort through dried meat and vegetables.

“If we wait for them, we won’t eat until midnight. Better to get started now.”

The wood in the stove pops and crackles. A pot of snow sits on top, already beginning to melt. The temperature in the tent rises steadily, enough that I can finally remove my outer layer.

“Here.” Vanessa hands me a cutting board, knife, and a bag of vegetables. “Make yourself useful.”

I settle cross-legged on my sleeping bag and start slicing carrots and potatoes into even chunks. The routine task keeps my hands busy while my mind wanders to that pulse of dark energy I sensed earlier.

Even to my senses, it’s heavy.

“Focus on the vegetables,” Marcus says, reading my expression. “That corruption isn’t going anywhere.”

Well, not far, anyway. It doesn’t seem to move quickly.

Vanessa moves around the tent with purpose, organizing our gear and setting up sleeping areas. Marcus helps her, the two of them working in comfortable silence.

Through the tent flap, I catch glimpses of them building a second fire outside. The flames cast dancing shadows on the canvas walls, and the scent of woodsmoke mingles with the aroma of vegetables and melting snow.

The tent grows cozy as I work through the pile in front of me.

Steam rises as I slide the potatoes and other vegetables into the pot. The water bubbles, already turning cloudy from the starch. There’s something about cooking that makes any place feel like home, even a tent in the middle of nowhere.

Vanessa’s boots crunch against the snow outside before she ducks in, bringing a blast of cold air with her. She adds strips of dried meat to the concoction, and dashes of seasonings. Unlike me, she doesn’t need to measure any of it.

“Should make a decent stew.” She stirs the contents with a long wooden spoon. “Though fresh meat would be better.”

Marcus follows her in, carrying another pot of snow and an old metal percolator. Both are filled with snow, and he adds some coffee grounds to the percolator.

A flash of excitement pulses through my bond with Selene. She’s caught a scent trail, something worth pursuing.

Distant howls echo through the trees, and I’m instantly alert. But Vanessa remains relaxed.

Not the howls of rogues or warning calls of sentries. They’re hunting calls, coordinated and purposeful.