The True Luna

Thirteen. In Which Tales Are Spun.

My earth shakes me back to my own location, pulling me away from the shadow-wolves. She is warning me of something— footsteps overhead.

I know those footsteps. They are the Alpha's.

I don't know what to do anymore. I don't have a plan.

I sit up, looking at the door. You are safe, Joti.

My shadows and my earth surround me. As long as you can see the darkness, you are safe.

I'm not though, am I? My darkness is useless on this planet. And this isn't my earth, not really. It's an imposter. My earth, my powerful, beautiful earth is lost to me. I will never see her again.

This earth is too thick, too empty, too weak. It is rough against my palms, rough and cold and powerless. What if its weakness seeps into my bones? What if I become useless from touching it?

I pull my hands away and stand up, trying to minimise my contact with it.

No use. It's all around me. It will kill me. I will die in here.

He stands outside my door. "Are you done throwing a tantrum?" It is the first time I have heard a voice in weeks.

I... I...

"All I want is the truth, Joti." My name sounds so harsh coming from his throat; he makes me sound like I am a warrior.

I am no warrior. Not here. Not on this planet. Not in this tomb...

"Let me tell you a story." My sound is croaky, even drier than the earth beneath my feet. I would be surprised if he could make out what I am saying.

"Here." The door opens, and a bottle of water is rolled along the ground towards where I stand. I do not take it. It has touched the dead earth.

"No, it can't touch the ground. Not the ground." I mutter, stepping closer to the slightly open door. "Can you pass one to me?"

He does, his fingers lightly touching my own. I feel nothing. The monster is asleep tonight.

I drink it in one go. My gulps fill the room.

"Let me out. Please. I can't..." I look around behind me, at the imposter. "I can't be surrounded by this earth anymore."

He opens the door. His eyes are puffy, hair messy on his head. I can't see much of his face, mainly just the outline. "I will let you out once you've told me this story."

I look at the ground again, and shiver. "Can you get me a chair please?"

"You've got a lot of demands for a prisoner." He shuts the door again, sighing. The fake earth no longer tells me of his footsteps. Good. Maybe it has realised it is now my enemy.

The door opens again, and he pushes a chair through. I sit quickly, pulling my feet off the ground. My muscles relax as soon as I am not in contact with the earth. I didn't realise they were tense.

He leans against the wall facing the cell, against the fake earth. I don't like the site of him against such a thing.

"Any more requests?" He is almost smiling. Why? I wanted to kill his pack. I still want to. I just can't anymore.

"One, actually. What's your name?"

"Pack members aren't supposed to call an alpha by his name, rogue." I can see his jaw moving as he talks. It looks strong.

"I'm not a pack member. Or a rogue."

"What are you then?"

I don't know anymore. "Do you know where werewolves came from? In the first place?"