The Greedy Luna and her Thirst for Power

The After

I stared at the boy whom my mother had brought to my bedroom with the strict instructions to not open the door for anyone until she came back. I nodded obediently. There was yelling and running going on outside my room. The pack house was buzzing with warriors and staff. One thing was certain, we had won the war. Otherwise I would still be in the crawl space. I shivered thinking about the dark, damp place my mother had made me squeeze into.

I drew my knees up to my chest. I was sitting on my bed. The boy hadn't moved. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. He stared off into nothingness. I looked him over head to toe. He was dirty. His head was bleeding. His hands were smeared with blood.

But it was his eyes that I couldn't look away from. They were the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen. They swirled in violet and aqua. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. I was 9, I didn't look at boys. Boys were gross, filthy things that had no shame. Yet here I was staring shamelessly at this beautiful boy.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

He remained frozen and unmoving. As if he didn't even hear me.

"I'm Grace," I tried again, crawling to the end of my bed. "What's your name?" I waited for his answer, holding my breath. But it was as if he wasn't really here. Cautiously I climbed down from my bed and crawled over to him. I was half afraid he was dead. People die with their eyes open sometimes right?I reached my hand out and touched his cheek. He immediately grabbed my wrist, his breathing erratic.

"Ow!" I cried as his hand twisted my wrist. Tears formed in my eyes.

He let go instantly, blinking, as if noticing me for the first time, "I-I-Im sorry princess," he breathed, fear in his eyes.

I held my wrist to my chest and met his eyes, "Grace," I sniffled. "My name is Grace."

He nodded, swallowing hard, "I'm sorry Princess Grace."

I rolled my eyes in irritation, "It's just Grace. What's your name?"

"Silas Romero pri-Grace," he answered. I noticed he was shivering.

"Do you want a blanket?" I asked turning to my bed and pulling one of the blankets from it. I placed it over him. I frowned when he didn't stop shivering.

"Are you hurt?" I inquired. I started to reach my hand out to touch him again but stopped when I realized he might not like that again.

"I-I don't know," he answered weakly.

"May I look?" I asked as softly as I could.

He slightly nodded and I gently took his hands, turning them over. It appeared to be dried blood but I could find no injury. I then moved on to his face. He let me gently turn his head to the side so I could look at the gash on his temple. I chewed on my bottom lip as I considered my options to help him. Mother had said I wasn't allowed to open the door.

"I'm going to try to wash your wound ok?" I told him as I got up to head into my attached bathroom. I grabbed a towel and got it damp. I rushed back out to him, kneeling in front of him. I gently dabbed at his skin, trying to tell if he was still bleeding. He didn't even flinch, just kept his hands clenched in fists. I had to re-wet my towel a few times to get him cleaned up. I wiped his face off as well, trying to remove all the dirt and dried blood. I moved on to his hands, focusing on getting the blood off carefully. I could feel his hands trembling and it made my heart break. I had this desire to protect him. I had never done this before. I rarely had the opportunity, being stuck in etiquette classes and my private studies. I smiled at my work when his hands looked better.

But when I looked back up at his face, there was a line of blood trailing back down his cheek from his temple. I gasped and immediately put pressure on his wound.

"Thank you," he whispered to me. I nodded, not really Knowing what Else to say. "That was my mother's blood.... on my hands," he added. "I t-t-tried to save her." He was starting to get worked back up again. His breathing was so fast and tears streamed down his face. "They're dead..... my mama, my pa, they're dead. They're dead!"

He was panicking, near hyperventilating. I didn't know what else to do so I threw the towel and wrapped him in a hug. I held him tightly as he sobbed, his body shaking. I felt him squeeze me back, burying his face in my shoulder.

Suddenly the door flew open and my mother stormed in, "Oh my Grace, I'm so sorry. I left you to deal with him all alone." She marched over to me and pried him out of my arms. She held me by the shoulders looking me over. "Tsk, this dress is ruined by the blood. Go get changed. I'll be back to get you in a minute ok?"

I stared at her dumbfounded. She was worried about blood on my dress? Silas was actually bleeding. It was now smeared on his cheek from the way my mother had pulled him out of my arms.

"Do as I say Grace," my mother insisted. I watched as she took Silas by the hand and pulled him to his feet. "I'll be back for you in a moment dear. Let me get him somewhere appropriate."

Silas nearly tripped on his feet as my mother dragged him from my room. He was still shaking and trying to catch his breath between his shuddering cries. My door slammed and I was left alone in my room. I sat and stared at the door for a few moments longer, processing all of it.

I finally snapped myself out of it and got to my feet. I peeled the stained dress off and retrieved a new one from my wardrobe. I chose the first dress I saw, an emerald green tea dress. I slipped it on and sat on my bed, waiting for my mother to return.

When the door finally opened I felt disappointed when I saw Silas was not with her. Despite knowing she was taking him elsewhere.

"Come along dear, we must distribute food to those in need," my mother instructed. "It is the duty of a Luna to tend to her pack in times of need. You will be joining me so you can learn." She grabbed my hand and led me out into the pack house. I saw our maids running around in the corridors, blankets in bundles in their arms.

"Where is Silas?" I questioned my mother.

"Who?" she asked in irritation as we marched toward the front of the packhouse.

"The boy. The boy from my room who was injured," I replied.

"Oh him? He's getting stitches at one of the emergency aid stations we've set up out front. Don't worry about him. He's fine," she answered nonchalantly.

"But his mama, his pa, they died," I argued. "He is scared.... and very very sad."

My mother stopped and faced me. She crouched down and looked in my face, "Yes, they did. As is the case with many, many more orphans. There is plenty of sadness going around. We cannot dwell on it. There is work to be done. He will be fine. He's one of the lucky ones. I've picked him special. He'll have a special job in the pack house. He should be grateful. " With that, my mother stood and pulled me along through the pack house doors. The light blinded me as my eyes tried to adjust. I gasped at the sight before me.

People, covered in dirt, grime, blood stood in a long line. Most of them sobbing, hugging themselves. Our once beautiful city was in shambles. Warriors were dragging our dead from the streets. I watched in horror at it all. My mother planted me in front of a table.

She handed me a bottle of water, "Pass these out as people come to you ok? Do it quickly, there's much to get done."

I stared at the bottle of water in my hand, then glanced up at the woman on the other side of the table, waiting. She looked hollow, covered in grime, clinging to the blanket around her shoulders. I extended the water with a shaking hand and she took it numbly. A new water was pressed into my palm. I moved robotically, doing as my mother Said, all the while, thinking about Silas and how his life was as broken as the buildings, crumbled to the ground. There was one pack responsible for this nightmare.

Blood Moon.