Once she was introduced, Natasha stepped seamlessly into the role of the long-awaited Luna, mark or no mark. She moved through the pack house with practiced confidence, issuing gentle corrections, offering suggestions that sounded like care, and accepting deference as though it were already owed. To most, she was warmth and grace embodied, poised, attentive, undeniably fitting. Respect came easily. Affection followed soon after.
In public, Natasha was impeccable. Her smiles were effortless, her voice soft and soothing. She treated Aurora with an almost performative kindness, complimenting her posture, praising her manners, brushing invisible dust from her sleeves as if the gesture itself were proof of affection. She spoke often of the girl’s “remarkable maturity,” always within earshot of
