Luna Stardust's Arc

Chapter 2 of 8

The alpha's breath fogged the hollow's blue light. Luna did not move. The purple pup slept against her knee, wing bound, chest rising soft and even. The alpha's gaze dropped to the satchel at Luna's side — the worn leather bag that held everything she was. "Give it up," the alpha growled. "If you want nothing, leave the bag. Then you may see the others." Luna's hand tightened on the strap. Inside lay her mother's pressed flowers from the bright healing gardens, the small glass vial that had traveled with her since her first patient. She slid the satchel forward into the snow. She kept only her bare hands. The alpha sniffed the leather once, then stepped aside. Luna followed her past the roots to where two more pups lay curled and shivering. Their tiny wings drooped. Luna knelt without tools. She warmed her palms with breath and pressed gently along their ribs, listening, learning what each small body needed. It took hours. She used melted snow, a sprig of pine, the heat of her own hands. One pup lifted its head. The other stretched a wing and tried to stand. A bright, butterfly-small flicker darted near the den mouth, drawn by the stir of life, then vanished. The alpha watched the whole time. When Luna finally rose, empty-handed and shaking with cold, the alpha nudged the satchel back toward her feet. Not trust, not yet — but a door, opened a crack. Luna picked up her bag and bowed her head. Tomorrow, she would be allowed inside.