Mate Me in Moonlight

Chapter 82

POV: Adeline

Day three, and the numbers didn't lie.

I stared at the supply logs spread across the packhouse table, the columns of figures blurring slightly from lack of sleep. Grain stores depleted by forty percent. Dried meat reserves down to six days' worth—if we rationed severely. Fresh water from the main stream still flowing, but Ironclaw had positioned wolves near the northern tributaries, fouling the secondary sources with their scent and presence.

"How bad?" Freya asked, appearing at my elbow with two cups of weak tea—we were rationing even that now.

"Bad enough that we need solutions, not panic."

"People are already panicking. The wolves in the eastern cabins have started hoarding what little they have. The hunters are pushing to attempt a breakout—get fresh game from beyond the siege line."

"That's suicide."

"I know. But they're hungry, and hungry wolves don't always think clearly."

I took a sip of the tea, barely tasting it, my mind already spinning through possibilities. This was what gamma training had prepared me for—not just combat, but logistics. Resource management. The unglamorous mathematics of survival.

Everything I had learned for Ash Hollow. Never used there.

Now used to save Willow Ridge.

"Call a meeting," I said. "All the senior wolves. And someone find me the territory survey maps—the detailed ones, not the patrol routes."

An hour later, twenty wolves crowded around the packhouse table as I spread the survey maps across its surface. Aiden stood at my shoulder, still recovering, letting me lead.

"Our main water supply is secure," I began, tracing the stream that ran through the heart of Willow Ridge territory. "But we've been relying on it too heavily. What most people don't know is that there are three underground springs within our defensive perimeter."

I marked the locations on the map. Luca leaned forward, frowning.

"How do you know about those? I've patrolled this territory for fifteen years—"

"Because I walked every inch of it in my first week here. Gamma habits." I tapped the first location. "This one is beneath the boulder formation near the eastern training grounds. It's small but clean—enough for the healing quarters and the pup dens. This second one is deeper, about twenty feet down. We'd need to dig, but the yield would be significant."

"You want us to dig a well in the middle of a siege?" one of the patrol leaders asked skeptically.

"I want us to survive this siege. Which means planning for it to last longer than Ronan expects."

The skepticism shifted to reluctant consideration.

"Now, food." I pulled out a second set of notes—observations I'd been making since I arrived, catalogued out of habit, now invaluable. "The forest within our perimeter contains wild onion patches here and here. Edible roots along this ridge. The stream has fish—we've been ignoring them because wolves prefer red meat, but they're protein, and they're accessible without crossing the siege line."

"You're asking us to eat like rabbits," someone muttered.

"I'm asking you to stay alive. The alternative is starving while waiting for rescue that might not come."

The room fell silent.

I continued outlining the rationing plan—reduced portions for active fighters, slightly more for the wounded and the pups, strict accounting of every grain and strip of meat. It wasn't comfortable. It wouldn't be pleasant. But the mathematics worked.

"How long?" Aiden asked quietly. "If we follow this plan exactly—how long can we hold?"

"Three weeks. Maybe four if we're careful." I met his eyes. "Long enough for the messengers we sent to reach the allied packs and for reinforcements to arrive. Long enough for Ronan's patience to run out."

"And if his patience doesn't run out?"

"Then we reassess. But for now—this gives us a chance."

The meeting broke up with wolves carrying assignments—digging teams for the well, foraging parties to harvest the wild foods, a new rotation for water distribution. Not everyone was happy, but everyone was moving. Action was better than despair.

Freya lingered after the others left.

"You planned this," she said, wonder threading her voice. "Not just now—from the beginning. You've been mapping resources and escape routes and emergency protocols since you got here."

"Old habits."

"You were preparing for this. For siege conditions. Even when you thought you were just passing through."

I looked at the maps, still spread across the table, marked with my careful notations.

"Ash Hollow wasn't prepared. When Ironclaw came, we had nothing—no backup water, no emergency food stores, no plan for if our main defenses failed. We relied on our strength, our training, our belief that we could handle anything." My throat tightened. "We couldn't. And everyone I loved paid for that arrogance."

"So you learned."

"So I learned. And I swore that if I ever found somewhere worth protecting again, I wouldn't let the same thing happen."

Freya's hand found my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Ronan underestimated you."

"He underestimated all of us." I began gathering the maps. "But especially me. He thinks I'm the same broken wolf who stumbled out of Ash Hollow's ashes. He's wrong."

The rationing began that afternoon.

There were complaints—of course there were. Wolves accustomed to full bellies didn't adapt easily to measured portions and unfamiliar foods. But the digging teams made progress on the new well, and the foraging parties returned with armfuls of wild onions and tubers, and slowly the panic that had been building gave way to something else.

Purpose. Direction. Hope.

By evening, I stood on the packhouse steps watching wolves work together—not just surviving the siege but actively resisting it. Finding ways to endure. Refusing to break.

Aiden joined me, his hand finding its familiar place at the small of my back.

"The well team hit water," he said. "Clean and cold. They're setting up distribution now."

"Good. That buys us another week at least."

"You know what you did today?"

"Basic logistics. Nothing special."

"You gave them something to do other than wait to die." He turned me to face him, his black eyes warm despite the exhaustion in them. "You gave them hope, Adeline. Real hope, based on real plans, not just pretty words."

"Pretty words don't win sieges."

"Neither does despair. And that's what we were drowning in before you pulled out those maps." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Ronan thought he could starve us out. Break us through attrition."

"He was wrong."

"He was wrong. Again." Aiden's smile was tired but genuine. "I'm starting to think underestimating you is his greatest weakness."

I leaned into him, letting myself have this moment of quiet victory before the next crisis inevitably arrived.

Three weeks. Maybe four.

We could do this.

We had to.