Chained by Bond

The moon was high, swollen and pale, throwing silver fire across the Hollow Moon Pack’s gathering grounds. Silver was born under a moon like this, rare, sacred, a child destined for greatness. But greatness had teeth, and silver never grew. She stood at the edge of the circle, the hum of voices thick around her. Wolves filled the clearing, warriors and elders, their laughter and talk heavy with pride after another successful patrol. She smiled when they looked her way, but her stomach curled. They didn’t see her as destined; instead, she was seen as fragile. A wolf without her wolf. “Silver.” Her father, Alpha White of the Hollow moon pack, called for her, his voice breaking through the noise from the wolves. He towered above her, his broad shoulders and grey-streaked hair caught the light. He clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder, warm and steady. “You are being too quiet. Come and sit with your old man.” “I’m fine, Father,” she lied through her teeth, the weight of the whispers pressing against her back like thorns. From behind them, the voices could be heard a little clearer; they were hushed but sharp enough to cut. “I can not believe she still has not shifted.” “At this age, it is totally unheard of.” “How can an heir not be able to shift? This is…” “That is enough of you,” a voice murmured; it sounded more pitiful than defensive. Heat burned in silver’s throat. She turned her face towards the fire that burned at the center of the gathering, willing for the sting lodged in her chest to stop. “Do you hear them, Father?” Silver leaned in, whispering to her father when the laughter rose again, swallowing what she was saying to him. He looked down at her, his eyes softening with something that was not anger but quite close. “I hear a lot of things, my dear. None of which matters. You are my only heir. My daughter. There is nothing more to it.” “But father..” Silver continued. “No, silver.” He reached for her hand, tightening his grip gently. “They only doubt because they do not see beyond fur and claws. You have something that they cannot understand just yet. Endurance. You have a strong spirit. That is what strength is.” Silver really wanted to believe her father’s words. She wanted the words to be her anchor, but when she looked around at the circle, her gaze met her father's beta, Marcel and he held onto it, heavy with judgment. He whispered to another elder next to him, and their heads bowed down in silent agreement. She did not know what message they passed to each other, by it made her stomach twist. Silver forced a smile as she lingered at the edge of the firelight, watching her pack laugh, eat, and boast about the patrol routes. They looked like a wall of strength, her father at the center of it, broad shoulders squared, his voice commanding yet warm. He had been born for this. They all had. She was the exception. Silver folded her hands in her lap, trembling with a weight she hated admitting. The others shifted freely, claws and fangs and fur as natural as breathing. But she was still human. She was trapped. A wolf without her wolf. She waited a bit before she quietly slipped away from the gathering, careful not to draw unnecessary attention to herself. She walked towards the woods, the cold night hair blowing against her face. The scent of pine and damp earth cuts through the noise from the gathering. The shadows in the tree lines curled thicker. Silver bit the inside of her cheek, hard, fighting the sting in her eyes. If the Hollow Moon Pack ever fell, she wasn’t sure they would look at her as salvation. Instead, they’d see her as dead weight, as the weak link. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging crescent moons into her palms. “I’m not weak,” she whispered under her breath. “I can’t be.” And just as the words slipped out, carried away in the crackling night air, that was the moment she heard it. A howl. It did not sound like any of the wolves in Hollow Moon. The howl was distinctive; it sounded jagged and very close to the border. It traveled through the trees like broken glass, shattering the laughter and merry by the fire. They heard it too. Everyone i the pack stilled, and heads lifted and turned to the woods, one after the other. Another howl was heard; it was faint this time. She looked around to see if anyone heard, but their faces did not signify it. Her heart stuttered. And then she heard a voice, it was low and soft, as if it were coming from within her. It wasn’t exactly a voice; she felt it more than she heard it, like a pull brushing against her mind, cold and deliberate. “Silver.” The name wasn’t spoken out; it slid into her, curling its way like smoke. And she heard it again, but this time it sounded closer, heavy with hunger. “MINE.” “Silver?’ Her father’s urgent voice snapped her back from the daze she was in. He was at her side almost immediately. The pack was now on their feet, the warriors were creating a formation, and the pack members were making low growls. She tried to respond, but the words were lodged in her throat. She just stared into the dark woods, where shadows formed from the trees, and prayed that what she had just experienced was not real and only her imagination. But somewhere deep in her mind, she knew it was real. Something was reaching out to her.