THE REBELLION LUNA

The First Rebellion I gazed out the window, but all I could see was grey mist. It blanketed everything— the forest, the vast lawn, the grand patio— all hidden behind a thick, damp veil. It was beautiful in its own way, though, and oddly fitting for how I felt. My heart was as grey and heavy as the fog. I had hoped to take in the view of my new home more clearly, but all I got was this endless haze. I sighed and pushed open the window, inhaling deeply. The smell of wet earth, dewy grass, and damp forest hit me like a wave. It was intoxicating, far more pleasant than the smells I had grown up with. Back home, it was always the fumes of the city that dominated— car exhaust and the stench of overcrowded streets. That was all we could afford. In the human world, living near the city meant wealth, but for werewolves, the opposite was true. We craved space, so the farther from the city we lived, the cheaper it was. And since werewolves couldn’t buy property in human markets, we had been stuck in cramped, polluted spaces near the city limits. It was nothing like this peaceful, open land. I knelt at the window, resting my head against the frame, savoring the moment. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay right here forever. Then the door banged open, making me jump. I hit my head on the window above me. "Ouch." "Come on, stop daydreaming," my grandmother’s harsh voice snapped. "We need to get started on breakfast for the men." I groaned inwardly. Why did I have to do it? Surely, they could make breakfast themselves. I hadn’t even been able to sleep— too sad, too scared. "Don’t give me that attitude, young lady," she barked, her voice filled with both smugness and resentment. "Your parents raised you with their foolishness, but you’ll do it the right way from now on." I froze. Part of me wanted to argue, to rebel against her, but the image of my mother—lying in a hospital bed, tears in her eyes, begging me to obey— held me back. She had said fighting the system was pointless, that I should hope for a mate as understanding as my father had been. Shaking my head, I tried to push the memory away. Right now, I was too tired to think about rebellion. I was bone-weary. "Coming, Grandmother," I muttered, standing and heading toward the kitchen, ignoring the satisfied look on her face. Life was going to be very different now. --- I entered the kitchen, where the women were already busy, and immediately felt the weight of their stares. They all turned to look at me at once, and my wolf, usually calm and friendly, stirred nervously within me. Their gazes were cold, with no warmth or acceptance. She wasn’t used to that. I sent her waves of love and reassurance, and she settled, rubbing against my insides, marking me as hers. In return, I returned her comfort, and she curled up at my feet, her back to the others. But the women’s frowns didn’t soften. They only looked more puzzled and dissatisfied. I spoke for my wolf, "She won’t push herself where she’s not wanted." Their expressions changed from confusion to mild surprise, but before anyone could say anything, my grandmother spoke again. "This is Greta, my granddaughter. She belongs to Alpha and will stay with us until her mate claims her." The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "I belong to Alpha?" My stomach twisted with the thought of being treated like property. If only my mother hadn’t been hospitalized— I might have been able to disappear. Nobody would’ve known the difference. Grandmother continued, "Alpha has decided her collaring ceremony will happen straight after breakfast. Hold all questions until then." I whipped my head around to face her. "My what?" She shot me a cold look. "Of course you don’t know," she muttered under her breath, turning away. "Grandmother," I began, but she raised her hand, cutting me off. "I’ve made myself clear," she said firmly. I was stunned. How could she just tell me I couldn’t ask about something so important? The collaring ceremony? What did that even mean? Before I could process it, a heavy hand struck my cheek with such force I was sent stumbling to the floor. My head spun, and I looked up to see a woman glaring down at me, her face tight with judgment. "Disobedience won’t be tolerated here. You and your parents are a disgrace to our kind." Her voice dripped venom, and the sting of her words was as sharp as the slap. I fought back tears, determined not to show weakness. My wolf nuzzled against me, sending me waves of comfort. Her strength filled me, giving me the courage to bite back the tears. I stood up, wiping the sting from my cheek, and glared at the woman who had no sympathy for me, a grieving stranger. "My parents were not a disgrace," I said, my voice steady despite the emotions threatening to choke me. "If anyone has disgraced themselves, it’s you." The woman’s face twisted into an ugly sneer, ready to retort, when my grandmother’s voice cut through the tension. "Eldra, my granddaughter is right." What? I felt a flicker of hope, but it was crushed as she continued. "You have disgraced yourself by acting without instruction from Alpha. You’ve overstepped, and you’ll deal with the consequences." Grandmother turned to the others in the room, nodding for them to continue their tasks. "Greta," she said, her voice suddenly softer but still stern, "Wear that mark with shame. For now, come help me prepare the roots for breakfast." I nodded, stunned and confused. I had no idea what was going on, but I had to keep going. I had to survive this new world somehow. "Grandmother, I don’t understand any of this," I whispered, my voice tinged with desperation. "I know, child," she replied softly, a brief flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes. "But you must be trained. Alpha will tell us what needs to be done. Until then, we must follow the rules." I felt exhaustion flood over me. I hadn’t slept well in weeks— my mother’s illness, her death, and then my father’s tragic end. Everything had been so much to bear. My wolf nudged me again, urging me to focus on the simple task at hand. I set my thoughts aside and focused on the roots, knowing it would help clear my mind. When the porridge was finally ready, a gong echoed through the house, signaling the men to come to the dining hall. I looked down at the thick, mushy food and felt a pang of doubt. How could anyone want to eat this? But I kept my thoughts to myself. For now, I would rest and recover. I wasn’t ready to fight yet. "Deal with one task at a time," my mother’s voice echoed in my mind. "Pick the most important thing and give it your all." I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, and focused on the task ahead, hoping that somehow, I could figure this all out.