Luna Bleeding Heart

Chapter Seventeen

Bone-chilling shivers awaken me from my deep slumber. Why must I wake up…? Can’t I go back to sleep…?

I dare open my eyes, and I’m met with a bed of ice and snow between a canopy of frozen eyelashes. My fingers and toes, sprawled inelegantly out in front of me, are red and numb. A stray breeze whips my naked body, and I curl up in the snowy forest that surrounds me.

“Are you awake?” comes a familiar voice. My head is still in a fog…what happened? Why am I lying naked outside? Who’s talking?

Strong hands help me to my feet, and I wobble as I find my balance. “Here,” the voice says, handing me a thick robe to wrap around my shaking, snow-soaked form. I blink sleepily as I wrap the furred robe around me, and I try to focus on the face of whoever’s talking.

It’s Father. His brows are knit with concern, his lips wrinkled and downturned from hours of worry. That’s when my memory comes flooding back to me.

…Oh, Great Mother. I ate someone. Alive. I can’t suppress my growing nausea, and I vomit on the snowy ground. All that comes up is bile; no chunks of human flesh. I think that makes me feel worse.

I catch my breath, too mortified at myself to look at my own father. “…H-How long have I been unconscious?” I ask through chattering teeth. I don’t know if they’re chattering because of the cold or because of the horror. Probably both.

“That depends,” he grunts with a weary sigh. “What’s the last thing you remember, Kiana?”

I press my numb fingers against my temples, trying to summon the foggy memories. “I remember fighting the Sanguine River alpha and—and—” I swallow, unable to force the words out of my mouth. “…I remember being pinned to the ground by some of our pack members. I think I heard the Prince’s voice before I passed out…”

Father keeps his distance, knowing that I may turn hostile if he places his hand on me. I haven’t let him touch me in a long time. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, though, I desperately want his hug. “You didn’t pass out,” he corrects grimly, and I stare at him in stupefied horror. “Prince Donnacha, Master Eoin, Omega Tadhg, and your mother and I all restrained you before carrying you back to the Bleeding Heart territory. You kept growling and twitching, but you were otherwise unresponsive. Your eyes were open, but…there was nothing inside. Just rabid savagery. As soon as we reentered the pack grounds, you broke free from our hold and fled into the forests.”

All I can do is stare. I can’t believe I have no memory of this. If I ate someone when I was semi-conscious…what did I do when I had no control over my own body?

As though reading my thoughts, Father reassures, “You didn’t hurt anyone. Some of our warriors tried to capture you, but you always managed to evade them. Soon, each time you caught their scent, you went from wandering beast to the embodiment of uncontrollable rage. Master Eoin ordered the warriors to leave you alone, and for everyone to evacuate their homes in that specific forest.” Father’s expression softens with relief. “Master Eoin said, ‘Her Wolf is a Spirit of Deliverance. She may get better if she’s left to wander freely, instead of being captured.’ It turns out, he was right.”

He flinches, restraining himself from reaching out to me. I shake my head. Damnit, I need him to hold me, even if it’s just my hand. I step forward and grab his hand, and all the tension in his body evaporates. He smiles gently at me, nothing but love in his bright blue eyes. “Still. It’s a miracle that you returned back to normal. Most werewolves who undergo the Mac Tíre Confach never regain their sanity and are forced to be put down.” He swallows hard, no doubt fighting back the thick emotion that threatens to creep into his deep voice. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

I don’t know what to say…it’s all too much. “Um, where’s Mother?” is all I manage to say.

“Resting. She’s barely slept these last two weeks,” he answers, not pressuring me to see her. As much as my relationship with my parents is strained, I am grateful that they respect my boundaries.

Wait – Finna! “There was another she-wolf with me!” I cry suddenly, stumbling over my words. “Finna; she also underwent the Mac Tíre Confach. I-Is she okay? Where is she?”

Father’s face falls, and my heart instantly sinks. Oh god, is she dead? Is she still rabid? Did she escape?

“She’s being held in our prisons. She hasn’t returned to normal, and she’s shown no signs of calming down. Her Wolf, Rage, will be nigh impossible to tame,” comes his somber reply.

I feel sick. I was the one who suggested this plan to her, and now she’s trapped in that monstrous, unthinking vessel. She may never snap out of it. She trusted me…and this is where I led her.

“I want to see her,” I declare, steeling myself with resolve. I got her into this mess; the least I can do is try and get her out of it.

Father’s lips twitch with dissatisfaction, and his grip on my hand tightens. “I cannot stop you…” he murmurs, his eyes pleading me to reconsider. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that I won’t change my mind. He nods reluctantly and releases my hand; the cold air envelops my fingers once again. “Very well. But at least have breakfast first. I don’t think you’ve eaten in days.”

As if on cue, my stomach growls, sending ripples of hunger through me. “Good idea,” I agree weakly. I have only a fraction of my strength right now. Maybe some food will help, although I doubt it. It takes ages for someone to recover from an ordeal like this.

Before I can see Finna, I’m pulled into a meeting with the Luna and Prince. As if this day can’t get any worse, now I’ll finally face the consequences of my capture. Hopefully, my dismantling of the Sanguine River pack is enough to have bought mine and Finna’s freedom. We risked it all to prove our strength and resolve, and I’ll fight tooth and nail for us.

I sit on one of the floor pillows of the pack Palace, the gentle creek burbling in front of me as fish placidly swim along. It’s calming, despite the intense glares from the Luna and Prince.

“You know the rules, Miss Graveheart,” Luna Bleeding Heart begins, her raspy voice weathered with sympathy. “Anyone who allows themselves to be captured are forever shamed in our world.”

“They cheated, my lady,” I defend, my voice steady in spite of my racing pulse. “They subdued me and my hunting party with wolfsbane contraptions. Ma’am, I’ve never seen anything like it; no pack in our Alliance has such advanced technology. So, unless the Sanguine River Pack developed several decade’s worth of technology over the course of a month…”

“Then they would have stolen it from the Cormac settlements,” the Luna concludes, folding her hands over her lap. “Which is another deeply troubling matter. But that is a problem for another day.” She keeps her chin held high as she speaks to me, her eyes calculating my every move. “However, the issue still stands. Technology or not, you were outplayed. Even a pack of cheaters can prove their superior craftiness with their unorthodox methods.”

I’m about to speak, but Donnacha – who has been startlingly silent – beats me to it. “Mother, her punishments should be waived. She willingly underwent the Mac Tíre Confach and brought the Sanguine River Pack to its knees. No weak werewolf would do such a thing. In fact, this pack hasn’t witnessed unbridled strength like that in generations. Doesn’t that atone for her shameful capture?”

I’m…surprised. I could’ve sworn he rebuked me for killing the Sanguine Alpha without him. Maybe I misremembered?

“True,” Luna Bleeding Heart muses thoughtfully. “Tell me, Miss Graveheart; why did you turn yourself rabid?”

Donnacha again speaks up, but she silences him with a flick of her ringed hand. “I wish to hear it from Kiana’s lips, Son, not yours.”

With the way she’s staring at me with her sparkling eyes, so full of intelligence and knowledge, I know that she’s already figured out my answer. So, this is a test, like every interaction always is with her.

I brace myself and answer honestly. “I did it for two reasons, my lady. I wanted to free my packmates and avenge their month of captivity. And I wanted to undeniably, unapologetically, and unfearfully prove my strength and loyalty.” I bow my head in submission. “I would die for this pack, and I hope my actions have proven such.”

It’s odd. I would die for this pack, yet I also want to remold it into something better. As it is right now, I hate this pack with a burning passion. Can’t I make up my damn mind?

“And why would you trouble yourself with freeing pack commoners from captivity?” the Luna questions coldly.

I swallow back my anger. I can’t admit my softness towards “low-rankers”; that would get me in trouble, although I suspect the Luna already knows of my inappropriate displays of affection towards the Warriors and Omegas. It’s why she wanted me to wed Donnacha in the first place. But still, I mustn’t test my luck. Dancing in town squares to boost pack morale is one thing; risking my neck to free pack commoners from an enemy dungeon is another.

I must choose my next words carefully. “…It was my Wolf’s instinct, my Luna. My Wolf is a Spirit of Deliverance. Once we merged into the Rabid Wolf, her instinct took over. I apologize that I could not control it.”

Saoradh growls in my mind, echoing my feelings exactly. I don’t like reducing my heroism to thoughtless instinct – nor do I enjoy apologizing for it.

The Luna nods as though pleased with my excuse, but suspicion still lingers in her gaze. “What you did to the Sanguine River Pack is nothing short of remarkable, Miss Graveheart. In the two weeks since your prison escape, their pack has steadily integrated with ours. Those who do not accept our authority are being kept in our prisons…and those who have bowed to me are already being integrated within the Omega ranks. My Bleeding Heart Pack has been eternally strengthened thanks to your efforts.”

A flash of jealousy crosses the Prince’s face, but he quickly masks it.

The Luna continues, “Because of that, you will not be stripped of your title, nor will you be branded with shame. Miss Finna Scarmaker will also benefit from similar leniency, since she, too, subjected herself to the Mac Tíre Confach.”

I breathe a relieved sigh—

“However,” she interrupts, “you will still receive a punishment. We must set an example for those within the pack that, no matter the heroism, a capture is still a punishable blunder. But because of your bravery, you may choose your sentence.”

I know what she’s doing. She’s not punishing me for being captured; she’s reprimanding me for rescuing the weak “chaff” of our pack. Still, I won’t push my luck. I bow my head, forcing myself to remain calm as I accept my fate.

“What are my options?” I ask.

“You may have bought your freedom, as well as Miss Scarmaker’s. But the other werewolves who were captured with you would not have escaped without your efforts.”

Oh, no. This won’t go anywhere good.

“Because the Sanguine River Pack overpowered your hunting party through human-stolen methods, thus breaking the rules of the Full Moon Hunt, the severity of their punishment shall be lessened. Future Warriors Ailill Aoibhson and Gael Aoibhsdottir shall receive demotions in their rank and perform community services; however, they may still earn their ranks back through hard work. Future Gammas Epona Sunwatcher and Ea Lockjaw will suffer similar treatments. Omega Tadhg Blackshield cannot receive a demotion due to his low status. Therefore, he will pay heavy taxes and perform community services for at least a year.”

My heart twists at the thought of Tadhg being worked even deeper to the bone. He’s already ragged with the farm work he does. He’ll scarcely have any energy to eat, and no money to purchase simple luxuries.

The anticipation in the Luna’s voice tells me she isn’t finished. I brace myself.

“However, there is a decision to be made regarding the remainder of their punishments,” the Luna explains solemnly, still judging my every move under a piercing gaze. “This, Miss Graveheart, is where you come in.”

I try my best not to squirm in my seat. I hate where this is going.

“These five pack members may keep these lenient punishments if they receive a brand that forever reminds them of their weakness.”

My breath hitches, and I dare ask, “…What kind of brand?”

“A symbol etched into their necks, to be carved by your claws. What it looks like is entirely up to you. This brand will remind them of their folly, remind them of my mercy, and remind them that they survived a dangerous kidnapping. Whether they view these marks as shameful or empowering is up to them.” Upon noticing my discomfort, her tone turns venomous. “It’s a very fair punishment, Graveheart. But if you are too uncomfortable to brand these five werewolves, then there is an alternative. Without the brand, the lessened punishments instead will be waived, and they will receive the full treatment given to werewolves who have been tainted by capture.”

No. This can’t be happening. If they receive the full scope of punishment, they’ll become like slaves at best…and dead at worst. But to spare them from such a fate, I need to carve an eternal symbol in their flesh. This would forever humiliate them, and they would inevitably resent me for scarring them so horridly. Sorcha, too, marked my face with a jagged scar. It’s changed me ever since…I would never wish it on my friends.

“What will it be, Miss Graveheart? Decide now,” the Luna commands.

I know what I must do, but the responsibility of it crushes my shoulders. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself, but to no avail. All I can do is fight back tears. I’ve already decided…I just need to forgive myself for the words I’m about to say.

I look straight at the Luna and declare, “I’ll do it. I’ll brand them with my own claws. Tonight.”