(Isla)
Three weeks.
Three weeks since I last heard my name screamed in front of 200 wolves.
Three weeks since “Isla can never be my Luna. One night doesn’t mean anything.”
Crescent Moon didn’t have marble floors or crystal chandeliers.
It had wood……Real wood that smelled like rain and sap.
It had gardens that actually grew food instead of just looking pretty.
It had people who nodded at me in the morning instead of whispering.
That was enough.
The cottage was small. One bed and one table. One window that looked out at the pines.
Elara had left blankets on the bed the first night.
Kieran had left firewood on the porch and no one asked me to pay them back.
I worked in the kitchens……..4am to 12pm. Bread, stew, coffee for the pack who worked the fields.
My han
