Legacy of a Luna

Ch. 8 Don't Fear The Reaper

A wolf needs a pack. It's just the way we are wired. It didn't take long after I left my father's pack for me to realize that. But I refused to go back. I'd die a rogue before I let him use me for his own selfish plots. So I did what was only natural, I found other wolves.

It started small, but now, I have over 200 that answer to me. As an Alpha's first born, I was a natural leader. Always meant to lead, but even I was genuinely surprised at the size of my unofficial pack.

Life had been anything but fair when the universe chose my father. He was a cruel, heartless man. From a very young age, it was clear I was different. My wolf made his first appearance when I was just 8 years old. That was unheard of. But Zion was no ordinary wolf so I suppose the unexpected was expected.

Zion was powerful, even in the vessel of a mere pup. His hunger was rarely sated. I remember the first time it happened. How it felt when he came forth and fed. Rogues were attacking. The warriors were fending them off fairly well. My mother was helping the young and elderly to the panic room. The screams and sounds of battle wafted in creating more chaos.

A little girl had slipped past my mother and was running down the hall away from safety. My mother, being the good Luna she was, didn't hesitate to turn and pursue her. Unlike my father, my mother cared deeply for every member of our pack and she was determined to keep them safe. I ran after her. We were soon running out the front door into the heart of the battle.

Warriors flanked and guarded her as best they could as she chased the little girl towards the wood line. I was hot on her heels when a rogue blindsided the girl. He lifted her by her neck and snarled inches from her face. My mother sprinted harder, desperate to save her, but she wasn't quick enough. In one fell dip of his head, the rogue tore her head from her body and tossed what was left aside as if she was mere trash.

My mother hit her knees and the wail that left her lips sparked something primal in Zion. I shifted instantly. No time to register the pain. Zion was impressive in size given my age. He was solid black, eyes included. He rushed forward as the rogue zeroed in on my mother and leapt into action. Zion tore him apart, but that wasn't the most surprising thing.

The world stood still when Zion leaned over the dying rogue and ripped his very soul from his chest. Zion swallowed it greedily. The feeling of it sliding down my throat was the most satisfying thing I'd ever felt. He was a wicked man, and his soul tasted of it. I relished taking him from this world. He'd never hurt an innocent ever again.

Zion stepped back and let me shift back. I ran straight to my mother, terrified she was hurt. Instead of welcoming me with open arms, her eyes held terror. She didn't know what to make of what I had just done. Her falter didn't last long though. I was her pup and I had just saved her life. She soon wrapped me in her arms and held me tightly. That was the one, and only time I ever saw fear in my mother's eyes when it came to me. She knew my heart and that I would never hurt her.

My father though, well, all he saw was a weapon. And that's exactly what he turned me into. He would starve me, driving Zion mad with hunger. Once I was all but crazed, he would use me against his enemies. I'd be brought before a prisoner and told he threatened my mother's life. Between my drive to keep my mother safe and starvation, Zion would leap at the chance to feed just to keep us alive.

My mother, Goddess rest her soul, tried to save me. She would sneak me food and did all she could to sheild me from my father's intentions. I was 10 years old when he took her from me. I remember that night with such clarity I often relive it in my dreams. The moon hung high and full. My mother snuck into my room. I thought to simply offer me food, but that night she had a bag over her shoulder.

She handed me a sandwich and began to stuff some of my clothes in the bag. Soon, she was telling me to stay silent and we were creeping out of the pack house. I held her hand tightly as we made our way toward the tree line. I understood what was happening. My mother was trying to save me the only way she could.