The Human Luna

You know that girl in high school — the one who always sat alone at lunch, pretending to scroll through her phone so nobody noticed she didn’t have anyone? That was me. The one teachers forgot to call on, the one the popular kids only remembered when they wanted someone to laugh at. Invisible until I wasn’t — and then I wished I could be again. It wasn’t always that way, not exactly. Before my mother left, I’d had friends. Or at least I’d had the space in my life to keep them. But when she walked out, responsibility dropped onto my shoulders like a weight I hadn’t grown into yet. I became mother, sister, and caretaker all at once, while Dad… well, Dad drowned himself in work and grief, and in the process, forgot how to be a father. By nine I was burning dinners and trying not to cry over piles of laundry. By ten I’d ironed more school uniforms than I’d ever worn. By twelve, the attic had become my bedroom. It wasn’t really a bedroom — more a storage space with a mattress shoved under the eaves, cold drafts sneaking in through the tiles. But that was where Dad put me, and I learned quickly that complaining only made him angrier. My sisters didn’t notice much of the difference. Emily and Clara were too young to understand what we’d lost. I didn’t mind. If anything, I was glad to keep their world softer for a little longer. The lake was our refuge. A slice of beauty cut into the edge of the forest, black water shimmering like glass beneath the sky. The locals whispered stories about the woods — about lights that moved where no people walked, about hunters who never returned — but to me, it was the only place I could breathe. Out here, surrounded by trees and silence, I could almost imagine I wasn’t drowning under everything waiting for me back home. Emily skipped stones across the water, her laugh ringing out like it belonged to another world. Clara sat cross-legged at the bank, splashing her hands through the shallows. For a little while, I let myself relax, lying back on the grass, the sunlight warm against my face. Then came the voices. “Look who it is.” I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who it was. Josh, and his pack of ever-smirking shadows. At school, his grin was enough to send half the year group laughing in my direction. It was that same grin that used to make me think he was reliable, I fawned over him just like his sheep do now. His messy dark brown hair and easy going attitude was hard not to love. Out here, by the lake, it wasn’t any different. The group drifted closer, they flopped onto the grass around me, uninvited. I smiled tightly, tucking a strand of tangled blonde hair behind my ear. The sun always made my pale skin burn instead of tan — another reason I didn’t belong here among girls with golden legs and perfect curls. On the field, my sisters played catch. Emily, twelve, was steady and graceful, her auburn braid swinging as she moved. Always the responsible one, careful even in her fun. Clara was the opposite — younger, wilder, her curls a dark halo bouncing as she darted after the ball, laughter bubbling out of her like she’d never known fear. I plastered on a polite smile, eyes fixed on Emily and Clara, who were still playing catch on the field. I tried not to let the group see how irritated I was, but I wasn’t doing a great job. “We were starting to think you were allergic to anything normal,” one girl sniped. “Yeah,” another added, slinging an arm around me. “I thought you only crawled out of your cave for school.” I wriggled to get free, but a second girl pressed against my other side, trapping me. “Aww, come on,” she teased, her voice sickly sweet. “We just want to hang out. Don’t think we’ve ever seen you outside before.” Then came the final blow. “You know, most people don’t wear bikinis unless they can actually fill them.” Laughter exploded around me. Heat burned through my cheeks. My chest squeezed. “Come on, Gem, leave her alone,” Josh said half-heartedly, not even looking at me. That tiny spark of betrayal lit something inside me. I shoved free from their grip, finally breaking away. My gaze snapped to the field — empty. “Emily? Clara?!” My voice cracked as I sprinted toward where they’d been. Nothing. No laughter, no small voices. Panic clawed up my throat. Branches snapped. Emily burst out of the tree line, face white as chalk, hair tangled with twigs. She stumbled forward like she’d been running for her life, chest heaving, eyes wide and wild. “Bear! Clara — bear!” she screamed, her voice so high and raw it barely sounded like her own. She clutched at my arm with shaking hands, her whole body trembling, words breaking into sobs and gasps. For a second, she couldn’t even get them out — just Clara’s name, over and over, like a prayer. Seeing her like that — my steady, brave Emily — ripped something in me wide open. “Stay with Josh!” I ordered, grabbing her shoulders firmly. “Get him to take you home. Now!” Her fingers clung to me for one last second before I shoved her back toward the field. She looked over her shoulder at me, eyes huge and wet, silently begging me not to go. And then I did the one thing I swore I’d never do. I ran into the woods. The forest swallowed me whole. The moment I crossed the tree line, everything changed. The air was heavier, the silence wrong — no birds, no wind, nothing but the crunch of twigs under my bare feet. Branches clawed at my skin, roots snagged my ankles, but I pushed forward, lungs burning. “Clara!” My voice echoed uselessly. Up ahead — a scream. I bolted, feet tearing on splintered wood, until the trees opened into a meadow I never knew existed. And there she was. Clara lay crumpled on the grass. But that wasn’t what froze me. Towering over her was a wolf. Massive. Its coat black as midnight, eyes a strange molten brown that locked onto me with a predator’s patience. “No! Clara!” I hurled myself at its side. The impact barely shifted it — more surprise than strength. But it was enough. I dropped to my knees beside her, relief flooding me when I saw her chest rise and fall. Unconscious, but alive. No blood, no marks. I turned back. The wolf hadn’t moved far. Its gaze fixed on me, unreadable. It stepped closer, sniffing the air, then me. Why wasn’t I screaming? This thing was twice my size — it could tear me apart in seconds. My heart thundered, but my body wouldn’t move. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for teeth. Nothing. When I opened them again, the wolf was gone. I sagged forward, confusion swirling, then tried to shake Clara awake. Too heavy to carry. Too still. So I sat there, cradling her head in my lap as the sun died and the meadow darkened. Hours bled together. Emily was safe — she was with Josh. She adored him, and to be fair, he adored her too. Sometimes I envied their bond. The night pressed in, endless and suffocating. My body ached, my feet were cut and bloody, but I didn’t dare move. I waited — for Clara to wake, or the wolf to return. I didn’t know which would come first. Snap. A twig broke. My entire body jolted. I grabbed the nearest stick, holding it like a weapon, though my arms shook. A light appeared between the trees. Torchlight. “Over here!” My voice cracked, frantic. “Please — help!” The beam swung toward me, growing brighter until a figure stepped out. He crouched, setting the torch down so it wasn’t blinding us. “What are you girls doing out here on your own?” His voice was low, husky, touched with warmth. “Do you know how dangerous these woods are for… children?” He looked at me — really looked — and for some reason, I felt safer. “There was a… a wolf,” I stammered, words tumbling out. “It—it was here. Then it left. And I couldn’t carry her, she’s too heavy, I’m not strong enough—” “Hey,” he said softly, his hand brushing my arm. Warmth seeped into me, steadying the tremor in my chest. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” He lifted Clara effortlessly, holding her the way grooms carry brides in movies. My throat tightened — with relief, with exhaustion, with something else I couldn’t name. “Why don’t you carry the torch?” he said gently. “I’ll take your sister.” I nodded quickly. “Yeah. I can do that.” The walk back felt unreal. He moved through the forest as if he knew every root and stone. I barely needed the torch, but I still shone it at my feet, scanning the shadows. Waiting for golden-brown eyes to reappear. At the lake, our things were gone. Josh must’ve taken them home. Which meant I was walking through the streets barefoot, in nothing but a bikini, trailing alongside a stranger carrying my sister. Except… he didn’t feel like a stranger. Streetlights painted him in pieces as we got closer to home — broad shoulders under a worn blue t-shirt, dark hair brushing his cheekbones, a tattoo of a wolf curled along his bicep. I caught myself staring too long. He cleared his throat, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “So,” he said, “am I gonna have to keep calling you ‘blondie,’ or are you gonna tell me your name?” Despite everything, a laugh bubbled up. “It’s Shannon. Shannon Rye.” “Well, Shannon Rye, I’m Thomas Cannon.” I didn’t even notice we’d reached my house until the door flew open. Dad rushed out, face pale, scooping Clara into his arms. He froze when his eyes landed on Thomas. “Alph—” Thomas cut him off smoothly, extending his hand. “Thomas Cannon. Found your daughters in the woods. Best keep them away from there — who knows what could happen.” Dad hesitated, then clasped Thomas’s hand. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just stared at each other, a silent weight thickening the air between them. Dad’s jaw tightened. Thomas’s grip didn’t falter. It was like something unspoken was passing between them, a challenge or recognition I couldn’t understand. Then Dad winced, almost imperceptibly, and released him first. Thomas’s expression softened again as he turned back to me, brushing my arm once more. That impossible warmth lingered on my skin. “I really hope we meet again soon, Shannon,” he said softly, smiling. “Just… not in the woods.” Before I could reply, he was gone, swallowed by the night.