The Luna

15

I have no idea what time it is or how long I've just been staring out the window. The moon has been high in the sky for what seems like a long time. It's almost full, I note, looking at the nearly invisible outline of the rest of the moon. The shadow does well to cover it, but if you look hard enough, you can still see it there. My mind drifts back to the woman in the book, lying across the moon as if she were lying beside a pool.

What was the book saying about her? About who she is to these wolves.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't notice anyone coming up behind me until a warm hand pressed over my mouth.

"Don't scream, I'm not going to hurt you," the voice whispered softly against the shell of my ear.

Another hand grabs my shoulder, turning me softly so that I am face to face (well, face to chest actually) with Malachi, the wolf from the woods. The same dark robe he was wearing earlier covers most of his body, and even the hood is hanging low, so that I can barely make out his face.

"I'm going to let you go, but you have to whisper," He brings a finger to his lips quickly, reminding me to be quiet as he releases me from his grip.

I really don't know how I should feel as I stare up at him. His eyes are cautious, roaming over my face with worry and something else I can't name. Does he think I'm going to scream? Should I scream? I don't think I want to scream. I think I want him to tell me exactly what is going on. So far, I can't help but feel like he's been the only one who has been honest with me, and that fact alone is what truly scares me.

But the last (and only) wolf, so far that I had trusted so easily, led me down this rabbit hole of doubt. He, like Malachi, had a nice smile too, and I let him lead me away without much of a fight. So why would I think Malachai is different?

Trust him or don't. You know where the last Luna ended up. My mind is a b***h, but it is not wrong. I do know where the last Luna is, where the ones before her are, but not how they got there. Maybe they too thought they could trust a strange wolf dressed in robes and that's how their lives ended?

Is that what you really think? My mind is taunting me, too many conflicting ideas like a tug of war in my head. I hate that my answer is I don't know.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" my voice is barely audible to my ears, but I can tell he heard me.

"The bathroom window. Once I knew where to look, it was easy to find an entrance," he shrugs like it's no big deal, gesturing towards the bathroom door he left ajar, "I told you to watch for me. I can't leave you here."

"Why?"

"Do you know what it means to be Luna?" His eyebrows nearly touch as he scrunches his face in what is either confusion or sadness. Maybe both.

The question brings me to a pause and my hesitation gives him all that he needs to know.

"He said I was important to the pack," I'm not even sure if I said it or if I just mouthed it as my gaze dropped to my feet. I feel so foolish and worse, even with the information from the book, I'm still not completely sure who I should trust with my life.

Caspian who found me first. Who whisked me away from the rut I had fallen into with promises of something better - of importance and of peace from my loneliness. But who has done nothing but lock me away and argue with me when I ask for clarity?

Malachai, who doesn't know me. Who saw a human among wolves and let his curiosity take over. He hasn't asked about my family or where I'm from and has made no promises. He just heard the title I had thought was prestigious and seems to be trying to save me from it. No other information needed.

I hate that I am being made to feel so at war with myself. That my impulsiveness has led me here only to completely abandon me and leave me nothing more than confused. I'm staring at a fork in the road and either way could lead to my death. So how do I choose where to go? The book didn't say how they died and I, at this very second, could be staring into the face of the Devil thinking he's an angel.

"To him, you are but -" A noise from the hallway has Malachi standing still as stone, head tilted to the side as if he was listening intently to something. I strained to hear anything other than what had sounded like a door closing, but I got nothing.

"I wish I could explain, I really do, but if this is going to work, we have to go," Malachi rushes out in a whispered breath, reaching into his robe and pulling out a folded blood-red fabric, another robe, that he holds out for me to take.

Moments ago I was dreading this very scenario, wondering how I could possibly choose between two different paths, not knowing for sure where either would lead me.

But as Malachi held the cloak out to me, there wasn't one ounce of hesitation as I grabbed it from him. I was stressing over who could be the wolf in sheep's clothing (no pun intended) when, deep down, I've known I need to get away from Caspian and his Lotus pack. There are too many secrets here, too many unanswered questions and, even though I've only been here a short time, too many broken promises.

I move quickly to secure it around my shoulders, tying it in a neat bow around my neck. The fabric surprised me and I couldn't help but run my fingers over it. The red fabric looks like velvet but feels light as silk. If I weren't looking at it, I'd probably forget that I even had it on.

Malachi looks me over head to toe, before he breaks out into silent hysterics. A small amount of panic sweeps through me as I look around for something that could be considered funny. Was this all a set-up and Caspian was about to jump out and call me a fool for thinking I could get away?

"You look like Red Riding hood," he whispered, and when I didn't laugh, he continued, "Get it, because of the wolves,"

My heart practically deflates in relief. I stare at him, highly unamused by his joke. Maybe, eventually, I could be able to see the irony and find humor in it, but right now all I find it - is annoying. I was legitimately scared, and although I'm thankful he was teasing, my heart still feels like it's going to beat out of my chest.

He must read something in my unamused face because he sobers immediately, putting his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely, waiting for me to nod in acknowledgment of the apology before continuing, "Just keep the cloak secure and keep the hood up," Malachi whispers, reaching over to toss the hood over my head, "It can't hide your scent if anything is left uncovered,"

I snapped to look at him from under the hood. Can this robe cover my scent? Is that how the guards didn't know he was in the woods with me - because he was wearing his robe?

Malachi glances around the room quickly, his nose in the air as he inhales deeply as if he is looking for (or sniffing for) something specific. He moves to the bed, reaching under the pillow and grabbing the book and ripping a blank page from the back without even glancing at anything inside it.

My eyes are wide as I watch him. I think that book was somehow important to Caspian and his pack and Malachi just ripped a page out like it was nothing.

"Here," he practically shoves the paper at me, digging around in his pockets until he digs out a pen, "Write something to better hide the trail,"

"What?" I don't know if it's late, and I'm tired. Or maybe my sugars crashing and Malachi being here is just some sort of delirium that will right itself when I eat breakfast. I hope not.

"Amelia, wasn't it?" Malachi grabs my shoulders, meeting my eyes and I give just a small nod, "We don't have a lot of time, Amelia. I need you to write something, anything, that will either distract them or get us a head start. Can you do that?" I nod again, uncapping the pen and moving to use the bed frame as a desk.

I scribble the first words that come to my head quickly before placing the note on the bed. I stare at the book, wondering if I should hide it or take it with me. Finally, I decide that taking it with me would serve no real purpose, so I leave it where Malachi had dropped it.

"I'm ready," I whispered, taking one last look around the room. I really hope this is the right choice.

"I hope you're good at climbing," He leads me to the bathroom, where the window is still slightly ajar.

It's probably not the right time to tell him that I could trip over a completely flat surface, so not knowing what else to say, I say nothing.

"Follow me and do exactly as I do," he moves so silently, so fluidly, that I can barely pick up the movements, let alone hope to copy them as gracefully.

He swings one leg at a time over the ledge, twisting so that he can keep a grip on the windowsill. My heart is beating in my chest just watching him do it. Without an ounce of hesitation, he drops, and I rush forward to see him standing on a piece of the awning. He holds his hand up to me, silently telling me it's my turn.

Okay. Okay, so you're a klutz and you trip over nothing. This is life or death, so you'll have to be better. I take a deep breath and swung one leg over the edge of the window, trying not to look at the ground, but at Malachi's outstratched hand.

I don't know if it was my shoe or the robe, but one of them got stuck on something and I lost my grip. A scream moved up my throat, but Malachi was quick, and had me cradled in his arms with his hand over my mouth before I could even get the first squeak out.

"You're okay," his voice was a breath as he watched me. He looked from me to the ground and back at me like he was debating something. Whatever it is, I can see the resolve on his face as he comes to his decision.

"I need you to trust me," was all he whispered before moving to the edge of the awning and jumping off with me in his arms.

My eyes are wide, and his cloak is balled tightly in my fists as he lands with a soft thud and a small chuckle. He just jumped, with me in his arms, to the ground from what could be considered the roof of the first floor.

What.The.Heck?! How strong exactly are these wolf people? I knew Caspian could carry me piggyback without much effort, but jumping without so much as a jostle to me... is mind-blowing.

I wiggle a little for him to put me down, but Malachi tightens his grip.

"We're going to have to run if we hope to get a good head start, and, no offense, I'm faster," he says, moving stealthy through the shadows, "Keep the hood as low as you can,"

"There's a city near here that will help get us to Crest Falls," my voice is low, afraid to speak too loudly, especially when we are still so close to the house.

The line of trees near the end of the gate appears and Malachi jumps it like a perfect hurdle at a track meet. Not even panting or sweating at the exertion of having the burden of the extra body weight.

"Is that where you're from, Little Red?" He readjusts his grip and, with a quick look around at his surroundings, begins to run quickly through the dark woods. All I see around us is dark blurs, but Malachi moves like he can see every tiny pebble on the ground with perfect clarity.

I nod, reaching to grab my hood, holding it tightly in place.

"I'm sorry then, you can't go back to Crest Falls," his eyes glanced briefly at me and I could see genuine remorse behind his irises before he looks back to watch the trees.

I should be surprised or even angry that I hadn't considered this. Of course, I can't go back, that's the first place Caspian will look especially considering how I acted about my bag.

"Can we at least detour to grab my bag from where I left it there?" My voice is small, knowing the answer before his remorseful eyes met mine.

"I'm sorry, Little Red, I wish we could but -"

"I understand," I say honestly, because I really do understand, but that doesn't mean that it hurts any less.

It's not Malachi's fault that this is happening - or that my bag was left behind in the first place. Still, it feels like grieving all over again. I have to leave her behind, again. I have to struggle to remember her face in mind so that I don't forget anything, even though I'm questioning everything that I'm remembering.

"I have nowhere to go," emotions nearly clog my throat as I thought about all the possible places I could go. But there are none. I have no family that I know of and no money on me. My only hope is getting as far away as I can and finding a homeless shelter until I can get a job and one day a small apartment.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe," he says, glancing at me briefly, "they'll know what to do," I know he can see the tears rolling down my cheeks, even as I try to bury my head further beneath the fabric of the robe. I appreciate that he doesn't comment on them and doesn't bother telling me that everything is going to be okay.

I don't even think my mother's singing could make everything okay right now.

I don't bother responding at all to his comment. It makes no sense to tell him that I don't feel safe. That I was a naive lamb stupid enough to walk merrily into a wolf's trap, and this feels suspiciously the same.

I chose what feels like the lesser of two evils, but that doesn't mean I'm any more or less safe than I was.