The Girl with No Moon
1059 Words
The stone walls of Headmaster Calder’s office were lined with ancient tomes and relics—maps etched in silver ink, scrolls older than memory, and a polished wolf skull watching from the corner like a silent sentinel.
I hesitated in the doorway, expecting a lecture.
Instead, Calder looked up and said quietly, “Come in, Miss Wild. Close the door.”
I did as told. The latch clicked like a final verdict.
He motioned to the chair across from him, and I sat, unsure whether to brace for punishment or prophecy.
“You’ve stirred up a lot of dust lately,” he said, his voice low but not unkind. “I wanted to speak with you before the storm grows teeth.”
“Because Boris defended me in front of Dorian?” I guessed. “Or because I still haven’t shifted and the whole school’s one full moon away from a collective meltdown?”
A faint twitch of a smile ghosted across his lips. “A little of both. But mostly, I needed to talk to you. Away from them.”
His words sat heavy between us.
“I’ve spent a lot of time—more than I should, perhaps—looking into your… situation.” He glanced down, brushing a hand over a worn piece of parchment on his desk. I caught just enough of the heading to feel my chest tighten.
Cases of Wordless Born in Lunar-Clan Records.
“I’ve found legends,” he said, voice quieter now. “Fragments. But no real proof of someone like you.”
“Maybe I’m not real,” I said. “Maybe I’m just a cautionary tale with cute boots.”
“Millie,” he said, sharp enough to cut through the humor, “you can’t afford to keep hiding behind jokes. You think the pack’s cruel now? Wait until you’re no longer protected by school walls and routine. Out there, you’re either useful—or invisible.”
“So what do I become?” I asked. “A housekeeper? A burden?”
He didn’t answer right away. That silence said enough.
“I ask myself that same question every time I look at you,” he admitted. “You’ve got fire, and instinct, and something I can’t name. But no wolf.”
I looked down, feeling that familiar ache crawl up my spine.
“What’s your plan after graduation?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I always thought I’d figure it out after the shift. But…”
“But it never came,” he finished for me.
Calder exhaled slowly and leaned back, his hands folding together. “I can’t protect you from the pack forever, Millie. Even Boris—”
“Don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant. “Please.”
He nodded, understanding. “That boy was born to fight for the pack, not against it. You may care for him, but fate doesn’t always repay loyalty with love.”
My throat felt tight, but I nodded.
“You might consider human society,” he offered. “There, you wouldn’t be the girl without a wolf. You could be anything else. Someone free.”
It sounded so easy. And impossibly sad.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For trying.”
Calder watched me for a moment longer, then gave a single nod. “Be careful, Wild. The full moon’s coming. And sometimes, things buried under blood and bone don’t stay buried.”
⸻
By the time I made it to third period, my head was still spinning from Calder’s words. I slid into my seat near the back of the lecture hall, hoping to disappear into the stone walls and avoid Briar’s glare three rows over.
Professor Aldora stood at the front, tall and sinewy, her silver braid woven with tiny bone charms that clinked softly when she moved. She didn’t bother with greetings—just opened the ancient, leather-bound book on her desk and began to read aloud, voice low and resonant like a spell.
“Before wolves ran on two legs and bore names like ours, there was only the Moon and Her chosen. The first of us was a woman who lived in the mountains alone. The Moon Goddess saw her strength and offered her a gift: the power to shift. To become wolf, to survive the dark, and to fight off the unnatural things that hunted the edges of the world.”
I leaned forward, listening.
“She was the first shifter. A guardian. A daughter of the moon. Her name was lost, but her blood runs through every pack.”
Aldora paused, running her finger down the yellowed page.
“Some texts mention another word—Yee Naaldlooshii—though historians have debated its meaning.”
My hand shot up. “Professor Aldora, what’s Yee Naaldlooshii?”
She blinked, surprised anyone had been listening that closely.
“An excellent question, Miss Wild,” she said, closing the book slowly. “It’s an old term. One that doesn’t come from our language, but from desert tribes far older than this pack. I’m afraid I don’t have a full answer for you—not yet. But I’ll do some research and circle back.”
“Please do,” I said, and jotted the word in the corner of my notes.
Yee Naaldlooshii. It burned on my tongue like a secret trying to remember itself.
Something about it called to me.
I made a mental note to ask Calder about it later.
Aldora clapped the book shut, sending up a puff of dust. “That’s all for today. Don’t forget—tonight’s the full moon.”
Groans and laughter broke out across the room.
“I know what it’s turned into,” she added dryly. “But once, the full moon meant reverence. Community. A connection to the divine. Now it’s just an excuse for teenagers to get drunk, shift half-naked in the riverbed, and engage in… questionable bonding rituals.”
“Orgies,” someone coughed behind me.
Aldora didn’t even blink. “Thank you, Mr. Holt, for your eloquent summary.”
I packed up slowly, the word still echoing in my head.
Yee Naaldlooshii.
Whatever it was… I had a feeling it was the beginning of an answer.
Or the start of something much darker.
- Writer
