Our Beloved Luna

The Orphanage Attack

Flashback:

Images flash in my mind of the orphanage erupting in fire all around me. Bright, hot flames licking hungrily at anything in its path and billowing black smoke filling every nook and cranny. I’m hiding under my bed trying desperately to use my powers to feel the emotions of anyone that may be near by that may hear my cries for help. But the smoke was relentless and the flames were building. Panic started to set in. Right when I was deciding if I wanted to make a run for it, I heard the door crash in as pieces of the ceiling started falling from above, splintering into burning fragments on contact. I felt the overwhelming hit of protection and adrenaline, almost knocking the wind out of my lungs, as the face of a young Thatcher peeks under the bed before throwing it effortlessly through the window. His shaggy chestnut brown hair and bright kelly green eyes were a welcome sight amidst the chaos of my old bedroom.

Thatcher was a familiar face to me, but we weren’t friends. I was only six at that time. And he was fourteen, but looked probably seventeen or eighteen at that point. He peeled me off the floor and tucked me into his chest, placing my head under his chin and wrapped his burly arms around my small frame to protect me from the falling debris. He leapt through the smashed window and took off running as fast as he could in his human form, ushering me away from the danger, but also away from everything I had ever known.

When we got to safety behind a house near the forest edge, he stripped off his clothes and handed them to me before shifting into an enormous brown bear. Werebears are very rare creatures, and from what I had heard, no one at the orphanage knew exactly where he came from, including Thatch. Still clutching his clothes to my chest, he picked up my frame with his paw, me trembling in fear, and tossed me onto his back. I laid flat against him, pinning his clothes in between my body and his shaggy fur. He took off at lightning speed, dodging in between trees and dense shrubbery with ease, practically trampling anything in his path. I wrapped his fur in my hands and pressed myself further into his back, praying to the Moon Goddess I wouldn’t fly off as he barreled through the wood. That was the first time he ever mind linked me.

Can you feel anyone nearby, Genevieve? His voice was warm and caring, laced with concern for me. I was confused. No one had ever given me any special attention before. They just looked at me with confusion and pity.

I scrunched up my nose trying to figure out how to respond to him.

Just think of me in your mind. Human form or bear.

I…um… I…

You’ve got it. Just use your powers, reach out. See if you can feel any other beings’ energy or emotion.

No. The last energies I felt were from rogues approaching the house where you shifted. I can’t feel anyone else.

Okay, good. I should have a good head start even if we were followed. I need you to try and reign in your powers now. Imagine your energy curling into a ball and force it down into your stomach. Feel a wall building around you, around us.

I tried to do as he said. But I couldn’t tell if it was working or not. But the excited chatter of the forest animals around us died down and all I could hear now was the pounding of Thatcher’s paws on the earth and my heartbeat in my ears.

Great job, Genevieve. You’re doing really great.

How do you know these things about me?

I honestly don’t know, but I think the Moon Goddess is speaking through me. Hold on. We are almost to the river. Can you swim?

No! I can’t! Panic laced my voice again.

That’s okay, I’ve got you. Try not to be afraid. We need to stay calm. I’m here to protect you now.

My next memory was Thatcher jumping violently into the fast current of the river, being careful to keep me above the water as I clambered higher up on his back, closer to his neck.

Stay calm, Gen. We need to stay low to the water. Know I won’t let you drown. We need to coast down river for quite a while, so I need you to be brave. Can you do that, Little Wolf?

I was consumed with fear but I was trying to keep the emotional wall up the way he taught me, all while simultaneously not sucking water down that was lapping at my sides and splashing into my face. I decided to focus in on my hands clenched in Thatch’s fur and slowly counting my breaths. About 15 minutes in, I was accustomed to the rhythmic bobbing of my bear boat and had successfully calmed my breathing down. Thatch was quiet, and I could tell he was still on high alert, making sure he didn’t get complacent. My six-year-old body was getting worn out, so I think Thatch realized I needed a distraction.

Talk to me, Little Wolf. Why were you in that orphanage?

I don’t know. I replied. It’s all I’ve ever known. I don’t remember anything before it.

Well, I guess we at least have that in common. His toothy bear grinned over his shoulder as he started paddling as the water quieted down during this stretch. Here, I’m going to flip over for a minute to let you rest your arms. Just trust me. He flipped onto his back, floating down the river like a large furry raft, and I clambered over his shoulder and onto his belly. I remember falling asleep under his heavy bear arm before I could even ask him where we were going.

When I woke up, the waters had picked up again, and Thatch was shoving me back to his back. He was making his way toward the shore where a deer stood, unafraid, almost as if she were waiting for our arrival. Thatcher remained in bear form and I continued to sit atop his back, just in case we had to run. I could feel him still on high alert, waiting for the moment to fight or flee.

The beautiful deer tip toed through the forest silently, but Thatch’s heavy paws still crunched the ground beneath him. We quickly came into a clearing completely surrounded by the wood with the river protecting its border. Along the treeline stood a small cottage in disrepair, obviously neglected for many years. The deer looked back to us, bowed her head gracefully, then took off into the forest.

Where are we? I asked quietly.

Welcome Home, Genevieve. Even at six years old, I felt the gravity of that statement. I'd never had a home. I'd never known life outside the orphanage. No one paid me much mind there. I felt like I barely existed. I knew I was different. But standing here outside a broken down cabin in the middle of an abandoned wood with a boy I knew but barely knew anything about....I made the decision that I wouldn't be afraid anymore.

We’ve had a big day. Let’s get some rest and we can talk in the morning. Thatcher's bear shivered slightly under me before moving forward. He walked the perimeter of the cottage before placing me down and asking me to turn so he could shift back. I handed him his sopping wet clothes. He took my hand and we walked through the doorway together. Into our new life.