Our Beloved Luna

“ Miss Genevieve Harlow…” F.uck “…can you tell me what year the pack was invited to join the Alpha King’s territory?” Mr. Richards, my University senior year Pack History teacher, was prepping us for our finals in the coming days. He was going around the room asking questions of what we had learned over the course of my 4 years in the school. I’d let myself get distracted and had let my projection drop- so naturally, all his attention was immediately on me…as was the entirety of the class, who seemed ultimately confused about who I was and how long I’d been sitting in the back corner of their class. “1942 was the year we were invited to join forces with Alpha King Titus at that time. But since we were not aligned with his leadership ideals and practices, we did not actually join the kingdom’s territory until 1946 when he was replaced by the current Alpha King Magnus. He funded our farmland expansion to what our pack lines are today. Sir.” Annnnd cue projection. The confused looks of all my classmates slowly started to ebb away as they returned their attention back to the front of the classroom. Well, that was sloppy. But I could feel the remnants of their emotions as they adjusted back to their daily lives. The ultimate confusion of “Has she always been in this class?” “Wait, is she part of our pack?” Some s****l interest from the unmated males: “That girl is hot but weird as hell.” Some suspicion from several of the females, but some pity from the others as this was the first time Mr. Richards had even acknowledged my existence in probably the last year and a half. Home stretch of schooling years, can’t let it all go to waste now. Thankfully, the bell rang and everyone dashed for the door. I slowly made my way out last and continued my lazy stroll out of the classroom, down a few hallways, and out the front door. Most students were either headed to the training grounds or to the pack house, depending on their rotation. But per my normal routine, I pushed my projection out a little harder to block any interest I might render being a random girl strolling straight to the wood and away from the pack’s normalcies of life and responsibilities. Practically unseen, I slipped away to my own version of normal. I wasn’t invisible- the projection just allowed me to not draw attention to myself, to basically fade into the white noise of the background and seem as someone just uninteresting and not worth a second look. To the normal ranks of the pack, just a mild projection did the job. I only needed to really push it further when the Gamma, Delta, or Beta were around, but luckily that had only ever happened twice and when I was very young. I doubted I even knew who the current officers of the pack were. I’d never even crossed paths with the current Alpha, so thankfully, I hadn’t had to test that yet. And we didn’t have a Luna yet, but I knew when we did she would probably be more difficult to hide from. Lunas are usually fated due to their emotional connection with the pack members. So, I was screwed there. But with school ending soon for me, hopefully there wouldn’t be a need for me to be in the pack common grounds much at all. I could hide peacefully in my haven for as long as I needed to. As I passed the children playing on the playground, I smiled weakly as I saw them fully engrossed in a game of tag. Even one of the mothers had joined in. Her grin spread from ear to ear as she scooped up her daughter and tickled her tummy. I crossed through the treeline of the wood, I took a deep breath and was able to drop the projection completely. Riot- my draught horse was already waiting for me in our normal spot, chewing lazily on something flowery. Seeing me, his demeanor immediately changed and he goes into high alert, now knowing he is “on the clock” as Thatcher likes to call it. Speaking of Thatch, I open the mind link where I could speak directly to him, even though we were miles apart- Hey Thatch, I’m free of the labors of education. Riot and I are headed back home. He responds Good grief drama queen. I think you can survive 3 more days of school without dying of boredom. Get home safe, I’m almost done in the field but will meet you at the river. Can you bring a snack? Aren’t you surrounded by food? Geesh. But yes- sure thing, Papa Bear. See you in a bit. Riot may look like a normal Belgian draught horse from afar, but he is a rare creature that we are almost confident he is the only existing one of his kind. On closer inspection, Riot is massive. Standing 3 hands taller than even a large draught horse. His chestnut coloring is complemented perfectly by his white blonde sparkling mane and long tail. He is meticulously observant, connected to me even though he can’t speak- we understand each other on a level that rivals human communication, and he is fast. Like fast fast. Where werewolves can usually top out at 50 mph, most Alphas pushing 60-65. Riot can top at 70 mph and maintain it for hours if needed. Obviously, the hardest part about that is holding on, since I normally ride him bareback. Thank the goddess for werewolf strength. As I reach Riot, he bends down to nuzzle his massive head into my chest. I playfully scratch behind his ears as he threatens to push me over as he rubs his smock of mane dancing between his eyes into my shoulder roughly, probably ridding an itch. I help him out and run my nails over his forehead. “Let’s go buddy. Thatcher is hungry. Nobody wants a grumpy bear stomping around the farm.” Riot tosses his head in mocked laughter and kneels down as far as he can so I can climb on his back. He is so big I could probably just lay down and let the moving couch lull me to sleep- but we are quickly interrupted by our friends. With my projection down, the forest animals are in full curiosity mode. Just like with humans, animals are curious to why they are drawn to me. But they know they are safe and are merely interested in this being that seems genuine. Whereas they are mostly afraid of humans and supernaturals alike- werewolves and vampires also need to eat, to hunt, to keep their homes vermin free- with me they feel safe and know my intent is sincere. So, they come flooding out of the literal woodworks. Birds circle Riot, hopping on nearby tree branches, chirping out their hellos. Rabbits, chipmunks, squirrels all hopping behind his hooves, each hoof larger than a charger plate. Deer peeking through the tree line, every now and then a bobcat or racoon trotting next to us trying to keep up. Riot huffs in annoyance as I tell each one hello like a d.amn Disney princess. I’d love to be annoyed, too, however I don’t have any friends outside Thatch and Riot- so it’s a welcome change from hiding away and doing everything possible not to draw any attention to myself. And with these creatures, just as I’m genuine with them- they are genuine with me. There is no malice, no ill-intent. Just pure curiosity and enjoyment of each other’s company. After a few minutes of saying hello and giving Bandit, one of my normal racoon visitors, a couple belly scratches before helping him onto a nearby tree branch as we pass by, I mentally give Riot the nudge to pick up the pace and wave to my friends as we trot off into the forest. Even though Riot is fast, this long ride back to our cottage is one of my most peaceful moments of the day, so we take our “time”. As we continue our trek through the wood, we stay close to the treeline where Riot can navigate through the less dense vegetation. It also allows me to keep an eye on the farmland that stretches across our pack. The Harvest Moon Pack is about the size of five packs put together, maybe more. It consists of fertile farmland where we grow the majority of crops and raise the majority of livestock for the remaining territories of the kingdom. Our pack lives well, but humbly. Where many packs, especially the Capital, are more lavish and live more luxuriously, I’ve always liked that our pack is simple while smart. The homes are comfortable, sturdy, but quaint and have the country-chic vibe. Everything is well maintained and loved. You can see pockets of homes where family groups are nearby each other, but there is a comfortable distance between farms and their neighbors. Our pack believes in space, but also community. This is why the majority of the farm owners are near our community pack grounds, where I just left from the University, but there are still our large crop owners out further just from the sheer need of space the crops themselves require. I can see some excitement in the distance on the other side of the vegetable field. There must be a barn party tonight. They are hanging market lights from the barn to the back porch of the house. Several burly men are wrestling playfully on the ground, almost knocking over a ladder. I can’t specifically hear their banter even with my amplified wolf hearing, but I can hear the mother shouting as several others join her on the porch. A pang of jealousy hits me as I wonder what it might be like to have that: A large family of love and fun, neighbors coming together to enjoy each other’s company. I get an emotional “nudge” from Riot. He can feel my longing and is basically poking my heart to check on me. It’s hard to explain the sensation, but it literally feels like his soul just leaning on the inside of my chest. I’m fine buddy. As Thatch says, just being a drama queen. Come on, let’s get home. I give him a light tap on his side and he takes off. I wrap my hands in his shimmering mane and lean forward into him, bracing myself with my legs on his massive sides. Our little cottage is on the very outside of our packlands as far from the community pack grounds and every other pack as possible. Our home sits on the very border, where the wood meets the river that outlines the far edge of the Alpha King’s territory. The river designates the border to the West, the ocean on the East. Our pack’s community center sits right up against the ocean, as does every other Eastern pack-including the Capital. But the length of our pack spans the Southern border of the kingdom. As I felt the wind hit my face and the violent bounce of Riot beneath me, the strain of my hands and leg muscles clinging on, the flashbacks of how we came to be here sting my memories.