The Runaway Luna

PEARL'S POV

The night air bites at my skin like icy fingers as I sprint, barefoot, into the woods that consume the Pandara Kingdom, like a beast that only spits you out when you're nothing but bones. My breath comes in ragged gasps that taste metallic. Every time my heel slams into a hidden stone, a fresh cut opens, but the pain hardly matters because discomfort has become an old friend, an almost comforting reminder that I'm still alive.

I duck under low-hanging branches that whip against my cheek, scratching my skin raw. Bits of leaves and dirt cling to the blood on my arms and legs. I must look like a half-dead creature crawling through the underbrush; maybe that's what I am.

My feet remember the paths better than my mind does; the same woods where my father used to threaten me, saying, "Run, Pearl, if you want. The forest will eat you before you've taken ten steps." Maybe he was right. Maybe it will. But I'd rather be swallowed by the trees than watch those stone walls close in on me again.

The wind howls through the branches above, whispering things my mother used to say: "You are not weak, my Star." You are strong. You represent the impending storm they are unaware of.

She'd say that while she brushed my hair beside the fireplace, her rough hands were so gentle they made my eyes sting. She was the only barrier between me and them: my father, my sister, and the Elders who believed a wolf like me was a waste of bloodline.

And they hated her for it. They wanted her gone so they could do whatever they wanted with me. They framed her, spreading filthy rumors-saying she was sleeping with rogues outside the pack borders, that she poisoned the old Beta's wine, and that she cursed our bloodline to give birth to weaklings like me.

When they came for her, I screamed and screamed, but Mom didn't. It was like she expected it. She didn't even beg; she just looked at me through the flames and whispered, "Run."

The chill of the present jolts me back. The slap of wet leaves on my chin, the sting of a fresh scratch across my collarbone, the dull ache in my knees from when I fell trying to scale the outer wall-it all keeps me moving, reminding me I'm not dead yet.

Then, I think of Bisca...

A sob escapes my chest before I can swallow it. It tears through my ribs, raw and ugly. I stumble, catch myself against the trunk of an old oak, and suck in the icy air until my lungs burn.

I shut my eyes and see her face. Bisca is the only person who has never called me worthless. She was the one who pushed Kaela aside when she cornered me in the kitchen or sneaked me an extra piece of meat when she thought no one was watching.

This morning, in the laundry room, with steam swirling around us like a secret, I gripped her hand so tightly my knuckles turned white. I shared my plan, my voice trembling but determined: I'm leaving, Bisca. I'm going to Vartun Kingdom. I'll hide there, maybe even try for the Alpha King's mate ceremony.

She looked at me as if I'd grown claws. "Pearl, do you know what they say about the Vartun Alpha? No woman survives a night with him. You're insane."

Better insane than dead here, I shot back. I almost laughed; it felt freeing to voice it.

"Don't tell anyone," I whispered. "Promise me."

She swallowed hard, the sound echoing in the quiet room, then squeezed my hand back.

"I promise."

I wanted to believe her. I needed to. Without Bisca, I wouldn't have anyone-not my father, who had long abandoned that title, and not my half-sister Kaela, who despised me for reasons I couldn't even grasp.

The wind shifts behind me, freezing me in place. Crack! I hear branches snap. Crunch, crunch-heavy footsteps, twisting my stomach.

She told them. Bisca betrayed me, and they're here.

Tears slide down my cheeks, warm at first, then icy as the wind chills them on my skin. I bite my knuckles to stop the sob threatening to escape. I want to scream, to tear this forest apart with my bare hands, and to shake Bisca until her lies spill out.

But for now, I have to run.

I push off the tree, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up my shoulder from when I slammed into a wall last week after Kaela shoved me aside in the corridor. She had hissed, "Get out of my way, worm."

As I run, the deeper woods close in around me. My breath forms little clouds that drift back into the darkness, maybe carrying my scent to the hunting wolves behind me. "There's no mercy once a wolf betrays the pack," the Elders always said. There is no trial, only instant execution by burning at the stake.

The cold seeps through my tattered dress, a once-white silk that belonged to Kaela, now gray with sweat, dirt, and old tears. Mother would cover it for me in secret, so I'd have a cozy spot to sleep, showing me love that Kaela resented. It wasn't like my mother loved her any less; until that fateful night, our family had been loving.

The shattered home forever transformed Kaela and her father.

The trees suddenly cleared, spitting me out into the familiar old orchard-the place Mother took me when my father's rage turned our house into a tomb. I'd hide under the old pear tree while she sang lullabies I wasn't supposed to know.

Now, gasping for breath, I stop and search for that tree in the moonlit darkness. There it is! Its branches twitching like bony fingers reaching for the stars, half-rotted. I fall to my knees at its roots, pressing my forehead against the rough bark.

"Mother. I'm trying. I'm so sorry I didn't run when you told me to. I'm so sorry I let them kill you."

Snap!-the sharp crack of a branch shatters the silence. A low voice follows, issuing orders I don't recognize. I force myself to my feet. If I stay, they'll find me in seconds.

My heart pounds so loudly it drowns out the wind, the voices, and even the roaring in my head as I slip around the old trunk. My feet instinctively navigate the marshy patch, soaking the hem of my dress in icy water, down the slope behind the orchard.

I reach the stone fence marking the edge of the kingdom's farmland. Beyond it is a narrow path leading to the old trade road. If I can just reach the bordering river, I can follow it to Vartun. They say the Alpha King is a monster; no mate can survive his touch. "Great!" Maybe he'll kill me quickly. Or who knows, maybe I'll get to experience what it's like to be free from my chains.

A howl slices through the night, closer this time-hungry and vicious. I trip over the fence, landing hard on my knees. Blood wells up beneath my fingernails as my palms crash into the gravel. I pull myself back up.

"Run, little Star." Once again, I hear my mother's gentle yet strong voice. I ignore the stinging pain in my legs and push forward.

I see the road. The road is merely a narrow stretch of dirt, yet it symbolizes liberation for me; it's expansive enough to encompass my past, provided I can maintain sufficient distance between us.

I burst into the open, my breath tearing at my throat. I think I can make it.

Then an arrow whistles through the air, striking the ground just inches from my foot. Ahead, another one slams into a tree, making me spin around. The clearing glows with torchlight, shadows moving in a slow circle, closing in on me.

The captain steps out from behind a thorn bush, a smug smile twisting his lips. The scar across his brow glistens in the torchlight. He'd sneered at me when he saw me sweeping the kitchen floors. "Alpha's daughter, are you?"

"Look at you, better off as a mutt."

He raises his hand, signaling the hunters behind him to stop.

"Going somewhere, Pearl?"

I take a breath so sharp it cuts my lungs. My fingers clench into fists.

"I refuse to go back!"

He chuckles, low and cruel. "Oh, you are. This time, they'll make sure you don't forget your place. Maybe your father will even hang you himself. Save us the trouble."

I glance past him. The path is still there, just a few yards away; as the wind shifts, I briefly recall Bisca's laughter: sweet, gentle, and as sharp as a blade.

"Did you laugh with them when you told them where I'd run? Did you whisper it in Kaela's ear while she called you sister and combed your hair?"

My mouth fills with a taste I can't define: grief, rage, betrayal. Everything.

And then I run again.

I don't remember the blow. One moment, I'm sprinting for the shadows; the next, I'm slammed onto the ground, my cheek scraping the dirt, my ribs screaming. A boot presses into my back. I gasp, feeling his sour breath against my ear as the captain leans over me.

With a voice that's almost gentle, he says, "Stupid little mutt. Should've stayed in your cage."

I choke on a sob, but this time it's anger and betrayal rather than fear. The taste of freedom brings me brief ecstasy.

They drag me back through the clearing, and the forest closes around me like a coffin.

Above, the stars blur as tears spill over my lashes. My mother's face swims behind them, her eyes shining even as flames lick her skin.

"One day, little Star. One day, you'll run far enough that they can't find you."

I let the darkness swallow me, but deep in my chest, something stubborn flickers-a spark that refuses to die, no matter how many chains they fasten around my throat.

One day, I'll run again.

And the next time, they won't catch me.