The True Luna

One. In Which A Queen Pities Her Peasant.

Our teeth are around his neck, great jaws that are seconds away from snapping shut.

His whimpers assault our ears, winding their way into the very marrow of us, into every soft tissue, into the cartilage between them all. He cries, not wanting to end, not wanting to meet the shadows, not wanting to be ripped from all he has known. The wolf doesn't understand-- she knows the shadows well, and would willingly live out her days there if she could-- but I do. I understand his language, his song, his pleads for mercy.

She forces our teeth closer together. Lifeforce pools on our tongue, a thick, hot fluid running between our teeth and down our throat. She thrives on this, thrives on the taste of his soul filling our stomach.

Bones crack and skin shifts as she tries to force herself into our cells. Jaw muscles tense, twitching, and we are left with two options-- bite or release. Bite and feel the hotness of raw flesh fill our mouth, the crunching of bones reverberate through us, his life draining away and filling us with darkness.

The darkness is home. Not anymore.

I release him.

He falls to the earth, begging and pleading and thanking, his stench running from his neck and tarnishing its soil with the dirtiness of his life. My earth does not deserve to be disrespected in such a way. He is not worthy enough to be simpering onto her, she is so much more than he will ever be.

My throat twists in an attempt to form words rather than snarls. "Do the packs hate you?"

He eyes widen at the question and his muscles steady their trembling. Perhaps he thinks he can talk himself out of this, perhaps he has used his words as a weapon against the packs before. "Yes, yes, very much so, are you going to save me from them? They kill--"

"You go on their territory?"

"We have to, we need to--"

I can feel his life still dripping down my chin. "Don't do that."

"I have a daughter, please, a baby girl, she won't survive without me. She is only a--"

Teeth flash. Promising darkness. "Don't do that."

"Of course, of course, don't do that. Right. Got it." He shakes, falling back down, flattening himself onto my ground as much as he can. My souls tense. He is not worthy...

I wrangle language under my control again. "Your daughter will die if you do. I will protect her if you don't."

"Thank you, so much for the blessing."

I nod, finally wiping the blood off my face.

"May I have a name to tell my daughter of her saviour?"

"Joti."

He rises, stepping towards me, seeming to forget that he does not have the right to invade my space. A hand extends towards mine, a peace offering, the symbol of a deal being struck. He thinks he is not only worthy of the earth but also worthy of me, forgets we are not on the same level, forgets the reason for the holes in his neck, forgets the sight of his life smeared across my face.

I turn and walk back into the woods. I do not make deals. I do not owe anybody anything.

My earth shakes under the weight of an approaching pack, trembling as they siphon her energy and leave her with nothing but weakness. They clatter through her woods, between her trees. They are knives to her surface, churning great gouges in the soil behind them, eroding her tranquillity with the messes of snarls and teeth that promise death to their target. The rogue.