Luna Stardust's Arc

Chapter 8 of 8

They followed the trail past the pines until it opened on a clearing. At its center stood an earthen hut, its hide drapes torn loose. The pup tracks ended at the door. Luna knelt in the trampled snow where the ground was scuffed deep — the place she had chosen to lead from. Lyra crouched beside her. The alpha paced once, then stilled. Inside the hut, the floor was cold ash. But the back wall was carved stone, and the stone was painted. Luna lifted her lantern and her breath caught. A small dark-haired girl. A ring of wolves curled around her. Pups at her feet. Her own face, younger than memory allowed. "Luna," Lyra whispered. "This is you." Luna touched the painted child's cheek. She had not known the drawings existed. She had only known the shape of the story — that wolves had kept her warm when no one else would, that she had been a thing the world tried to leave behind, and a pack had refused. She pressed her palm flat to the wall. Her hand shook. The alpha stepped into the hut and stood at her shoulder, watching the wall, watching her. "That's why I can't go," Luna said. Her voice was low and steady. "Even when they snarl. Even when they bleed on me. Someone stayed for me once." She turned to the alpha. The gold eyes held her. "So I stay." Outside, a thin cry lifted from the trees — small, winged, purple as dusk. One stolen pup had been dropped in the rush. Lyra ran to gather it. The alpha pressed her muzzle hard to Luna's wrist, then turned her nose toward the deeper woods where the rest had been carried. Luna stood. She was not the healer at the tree line anymore. She was the one the pack followed now, and the trail was not yet cold.