The Moon Child

The dark had fallen heavily over the forest of Lunaria, draping its dark canopy across the world below. The pale gleaming of the full Moon filtered through the gaps in the tree diagram, casting long, distorted shadows on the ground. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of true pine, damp earth, and the faint, underlying tang of magic that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the night itself. The forest was alive in its own way — its rustle carried on the wind, its rustling transferred with the movement of unseen creatures. But tonight, the forest felt different, charged with an energy that attains the hairs on Rory’s neck stand on end. Rory had always known she was different, but tonight, that difference would no longer be something she could ignore. It had always been in that location, this unknown pull within her, this sense of something just beyond her clasp. It had started when she was a child — small things, unexplainable moments that set her apart from others. Her heightened senses, the way the moon seemed to call her more than to anyone else. But tonight, everything had changed. Tonight, the truth will totally be lost around her. She could feel the weight of it in her chest as she sprinted through the underbrush, her feet light but frantic, the pounding of her inwardness matching the rhythm of her rapid breathing. The pack was closing in behind her, their howls slicing through the night, a refrain of fury and rejection. They had never fully accepted her, never truly welcomed her into their fold. But she had always trusted — hoped — that maybe, just maybe, she could witness her place among them. That impression had shattered instant ago. Rory had discovered the truth about herself, and in getting along with so, she had sealed her fate with her pack. She had desire, in the deepest parts of her soulfulness, that they would accept her when the true statement was finally revealed. That they would comprehend her as one of their own. But the Alpha, their drawing card, had dismissed her words as a threat. A curse. "You are the Moonchild, " she had whispered to herself in disbelief. The words echoed in her mind like a broken record. The Moonchild — the myth she had always dismissed as an ancient legend. No one truly believed in such a thing, not anymore. It had been nothing but a story told to pups around campfires, a tale of a powerful being who could control the moon, a creature whose power was as vast as the night sky itself. And now, Rory was that being. The realization had hit her like a tidal wave, overwhelming and unimaginable to escape. Her connection to the moonshine had always been strong, but now, she understood it — finger it in her bones. She had always known she was different, but this was something else entirely. This was a force far beyond her sympathy, a power that could change everything. And the pack, the family she had fought beside, the ones she had trusted, had turned their backs on her. They saw her as a threat, as something dangerous. "Get out, " the Alpha had demanded, his eyes cold, filled up with a bowelless determination. " The Moonchild has no place here. " It was the final blow. She had advanced in the pack, taught its ways, and believed in its cause. But now, she was an outcast — a stranger among her own kind. And then, with nothing but the clothes on her back and the power of the moon tide through her, she ran. The forest stretched endlessly before her, dark and imposing, but Rory didn’t dare stop. She couldn’t. Not with the ring on her heels. They would hunt her down, trail her every move. Her heart pounded as she pushed through the trees, her muscles aching with the effort. But all the same, she ran. The moon above her shone brighter now, its light more intense as if it were to respond to her fear, to her desperation. The power coursing through her was wild and untamed, a force she didn’t acknowledge how to control. She could feel it thrumming in her vena, pulsing with the rhythm of her heartbeat. It was as if the moon itself was alive, a living entity reaching out to her, forebode her name. She trips up over a tree root word, catching herself just in time. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her imagination blurry from the tears she hadn’t realized were streaming down her face. She had never been one to cry, to let herself be weak. But tonight was different. Tonight, everything she had known had been torn apart, giving nothing but emptiness in its wake. The camp ’s howls grew distant, but she didn’t slow down. She couldn’t. The weight of their rejection had left a bitter gustatory modality in her mouth, and the pain of it gnawed at her inside. She had given everything to them, and now, they had discarded her like she was nothing. She wasn’t sure how long she ran. Hours, possibly. The night seemed endless, the trees shifting around her like they were closing in, trying out to swallow her whole. But no matter how hard she ran, there was no escaping the truth. She was the Moonchild. And now, she was alone. Rory finally slowed when she could no longer see the pack ’s spare-time activity, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She found herself on the edge of a clearing, the moonlight casting a silver glow over the grass. Her legs were trembling, her body sore and exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. She needed answers. She needed to know what this meant, what she was supposed to do now. On The Spur Of The Moment, a figure appeared before her. Rory froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She didn’t recognize the public figure standing in the clearing, his silhouette delineated against the moonlight. He was tall, with a strong build, dressed in dark clothes that blended seamlessly with the shadow. His face was partly obscured, but his eyes — bright, piercing blue — shone in the darkness. "Rory, " the figure said, his voice calm, about soothing. Her breath caught in her throat. " Who are you? " The man didn’t move closer, but he seemed to study her with a volume that made her uneasy. " I know what you are. And I know what you ’re running from. " Rory instinctively reached for the knife at her belt, her body tensing, quick for a fight. " I ’m not interested in company. Especially not from strangers. " The man raised his hands in a motion of peace, showing that he meant no harm. " I’m not your enemy. But I can help you. I can help you understand what you’re becoming. " Rory’s judgement twirls. Another stranger? How many people were there out there who knew about her? She couldn’t keep track of them all. First, the mob, then this mysterious figure. What was going on? What was she supposed to do? "I don’t need a supporter, " she said, her voice shaky despite her attempt at confidence. " I need answers. " The man nodded slowly. " I can give you those answers. But not here. Not now. " He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. " If you want to know what you are, if you need to instruct the truth, you ’ll have to come with me. There’s a place I know, concealed from the pack, a place where you can start to understand what you've got. You can’t do this only, Rory. Not now, Not when the stakes are so high. " Rory ’s heartbeat quickened. This was too much, too before long. But something about his words, the sincerity in his voice, made her hesitate. She had been running for so long, but perchance — just perhaps — this was the probability she needed to finally understand who she was, what she was supposed to do. And maybe, just possibly, it was her only option. She took a deep breath and met his gaze. " Lead the way. " Without another word, the gentleman turned and began to walk toward the bound of the clearing, running with a fluid grace that made him seem almost otherworldly. Rory followed, her steps slow but determined. She had no idea where this man was taking her, or what she was walking into, but the path ahead felt like the only one provided to her. As she proceeded deeper into the forest with the figure at her side, the moon above her seemed to watch, to judge. Rory didn’t have a go at it, what the future held. She only rolled in the hay that, for better or for spoiled, her life had already been changed forever. The darkness of the forest enveloped them as they took in the air, the only illumination coming from the moon in a higher place. The trees loomed like silent sentry, their gnarled branches reaching toward the sky. The air springs up colder, heavier with the passage of time. Rory ’s opinion swirled in a chaotic storm — what had she become? What was she supposed to do with the powers inside her? The man didn’t speak again. His silence seemed deliberate, as though he was waiting for her to ask the questions he was sure were burning in her mind. Rory couldn’t bring herself to speak, not yet. There was too much at stake. Besides many uncertainties. But one thing was clear : whatever lay ahead, she was no longer enduring alone.