Moon String

Running Away

Chapter Eight :Running Away**

**Lyra’s POV**

“Whoever is writing my life story,” I looked up at the sky. “You’re fired.”

Ever been heartbroken to the point where you can’t even cry, you just stand there and realise maybe fate has a beef with you.

Well… that’s my current situation.

I just wanted to get the hell out of this place. I had already cried enough. I looked in the mirror and was shocked at how I looked. Swollen eyeballs with unshed tears in them and a really messy hair.

I looked really ghostly and I didn’t care, tonight I finally escape this misery. I planned on going to anywhere that doesn’t have a Ronan or a Sophia in it.

I picked up my precious violin and some clothes and left. It was very easy slipping past the pack’s border guards .They're pretty much useless when it comes to my sneaking out tactics.

I kept wandering deep inside the woods,not sure where I was going or what I was looking for.I didn’t realise how deep into the woods I was till I heard a terrifying growl.It was a deep, terrifying growl that echoed throughout the forest.

I suddenly thought maybe being in the pack house with my stupid mate wasn't so bad.The growls kept increasing.This time, the growls sounded like someone in pain...

I was still wondering whether to run or to faint when I saw it. It was a massive black wolf,

Wait...

I don't think that's a wolf, that's a lycan wolf and judging by its massive size, I think it has a very high rank

It howled in pain again.

“Are you expecting me to do something?” I asked. “Because if you are, just consider yourself dead cuz I know absolutely nothing, I can’t do anything.”

It growled at me. it was bleeding profusely from his sides .It was obviously in pain. I paused“Why aren’t you healing?”

I then remembered something..

"I think you were hit with silver and that's why you aren't healing"

It looked at me warily and shook its head.It already seemed tired of me.I guess the poor wolf already knew that

I guess it already knew that I wasn’t that smart.

l"you poor thing"

" you're huge,you could eat me" I sigh " well...at least I'd die helping someone

At least, there is one thing Grandma taught me.

It was how to heal wounds using herbs.She always made sure I was listening and not dozing off during her teaching classes.

Thank God I took those lessons seriously. I never taught I would need them later on.

I quickly searched around for some herbs and found the exact herbs that my Grandma showed me.

I squeezed the herbs together and rubbed the juice all over his wounds.It whimpered softly and brought his head closer to me and rested on my thighs.It licked me playfully and was sniffing me constantly.

I found that offensive

"Do I smell that bad" I asked "well next time I plan to run away I'll take a bath before I do so"

He growled playfully and rested on my legs.He wagged his tail happily,it seemed to like licking and sniffing me.

I squealed. “I’ll take care of you,” I said.

I took out my violin from my bag and decided to play for him. I think this seemed to calm him down a bit. I was already tired and decided to just close my eyes for a few seconds before I look for where to sleep. I knew we couldn't just stay in the forest throughout the night.

Well.... when I opened my eyes again, it was morning...

What!!!,How did I sleep for this long.

I looked around and saw I was in a cozy cave with a blanket over my shoulders and cooked meat in a leaf next to me

I looked around frantically for the wolf but saw no one. Weird. I guess he fled.I'm guessing the cooked meat was his way of saying thank you for saving my life.if it was, I pretty much appreciate.

***

**Vaelric's POV**

I stood at the edge of the forest, the weight of centuries pressing down on my shoulders like a crown forged from blood and moonlight. They called me the Lycan King — not out of reverence,or love, but out of raw, bone-deep fear. And I preferred it that way.

My name is Vaelric.

The strongest. The first. The one who ruled every werewolf clan from the frozen peaks of the north to the shadowed swamps of the south. No alpha challenged me and lived.

No rogue crossed my borders without consequence. Even my own pack — the most powerful in existence — lowered their eyes when I entered a room. Good. Fear kept them sharp. Respect kept them alive.

A low growl rumbled in my chest as I scanned the tree line. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless, dominant, always hungry for violence or conquest. The scent of rogue filth lingered in the air like a challenge. They thought they could lurk near my territory? Pathetic.

I rolled my shoulders, the powerful muscles shifting under my skin. My body was built for war — tall, broad, every inch carved by battles that had killed lesser kings. Even in human form, I radiated the kind of presence that made lesser wolves submit instinctively.

They were right to fear me.

Because when I decide something belongs to me — whether it’s land, loyalty, or a woman — I take it. Completely. Without mercy. Without apology.

My claws flexed at my sides as I took a step forward, the night air crackling with the power that clung to me like a second skin.

Let them come.

I was Vaelric. The supreme ruler of the werewolf kingdom.

And this was my world.