Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
My feet falter, and Kellan’s hand lashes out to grab my arm, tugging me forward. He must have thought I was about to fall.
“Sorry. I was just thinking.”
His eyes cut toward Selene. “Just be careful.”
That’s it. Just a mild rebuke. Not that he would do more than that over such a minor stumble, but my skin still crawls over how distant he’s being.
I’m definitely flashing back to my life at home, feeling tiny and worthless, all over Mom’s disapproval.
You aren’t tiny or worthless. You’re Luna. Selene’s words are simple enough, but there’s another whisper inside my head, telling me she’s wrong.
What’s wrong with you? She returns to my side and hits my thigh hard with her nose. Get out of your wallowing. Why are you acting like this?
Trauma, Grimoire says, and he sounds far away when he talks. She’s struggling. Why does she keep thinking of her mother?
Fuck.
I smack my cheeks hard, the sound ringing out and causing several of the guards to look my way. Kellan frowns, his own pace finally slowing.
“Luna? Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Shaking off my strange little fugue, I take a deep breath. Inadequacy will always be my trigger, I guess. That, and people I care about showing they’re upset with me.
You need to work on that. Grimoire’s voice sounds normal again, right in my head, clear as day.
Yeah. Straightening my shoulders and blowing out a deep breath, I focus on each step. This isn’t the time to sink into bad habits or feel sorry for myself. Jesus.
I thought I was getting better, but…
Wallowing, Selene says.
Fighting the urge to smack my cheeks again—they still sting, and the cold air isn’t helping—I gulp down another breath of frigid air.
Not the time, Ava. There are far more important things to focus on. Like invaders and the lives of your people.
“How is it possible no one’s found anything yet?” I ask Kellan, wondering if my voice sounds weird.
He doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s not surprising. We don’t have exact coordinates, and so far there’s no scent trail. They’re searching for signs of disturbance or any recent tracks, but it takes time to cover that much space.”
Thinking of Selene’s words, I mull it over. “Is it likely to be some sort of direct attack?”
“We would have caught the trail of any large army headed our way.” His eyes flicker to my face, his brows raised just a little. I think he approves of my questions.
Thanks, Selene.
You’re welcome.
“So, maybe some sort of widespread reconnaissance?”
“My guess would be it’s the forward scouts. There could be a force following behind. Maybe a few hours. Maybe a day. It’s impossible to tell yet.”
“Forward scouts in those numbers?”
He shrugs. “It’s possible. We always need to keep the worst case scenario in mind.”
My shoulders relax as he continues to answer my questions. The remnants of Mom’s presence fade from my head, no longer intertwined with Kellan’s anger.
Different.
It’s different, and so am I.
One little mistake—okay, a big mistake—and I immediately walk down roads I thought I’d closed off.
You’ve always done it. Just less than before.
Selene bumps against my thigh as Kellan moves on to explain the evacuation scenarios in place. Still overly polite, but no longer do I feel paralyzed by his anger.
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Okay. Fuck all my inadequacies. This isn’t the time, and trauma is a luxury.
That… doesn’t sound right.
Ignoring Grimoire, I’ve managed to haul my brain into functional Luna in crisis mode by the time we make it back to Wolf’s Landing.
We would have been here ages ago, but we used the time to scent out our general area on the way back—just in case.
Still no sign of the invaders, of course, but about five minutes out, we finally get a message from one of the scouting parties. They’ve found tracks and are on the hunt.
Good. Finally, something productive.
Still no way to contact Lucas, which is a massive problem and I have to haul back dire thoughts about him getting murdered or kidnapped—both of which, Selene points out, are far more likely to happen to me, which is a totally awesome ego boost (not, obviously), but it does help put the dangers into perspective.
My first big step as Functioning Luna in Crisis is to haul ass to the Grand Sage the moment I get permission. Our gray-skinned captive comes with me, along with a whole-ass platoon of shifters and a bunch of gawking on the way there, but they’re the least of my concerns right now.
The shadow wolf murderer is still unconscious, anyway.
Lisa and I share a brief moment of hugging and being relieved each other is alive, and I finally learn that Marcus and Greg are, too. They’re both here, watching over her.
Then I send all three of them away. Lisa needs to be outfitted in full tac gear, like all of us. The aesthetic isn’t a big deal, but there’s a vest that protects against claws and teeth (and knives, which I think was the original point of it), and different weapons that can be tucked in strategic places, and boots that won’t freeze her toes when we go thirty below.
All things that might matter if terrible things happen to us all.
Meanwhile, it takes the Grand Sage less than five minutes to say there’s something interfering with our communications. Which, I know, is pretty damn obvious at this point. But I wasn’t here for the diagnosis—I’m here for the treatment.
“Can you fix it?” I demand, sounding way too pushy and impatient for Normal Ava. However, it sounds pretty right for Functioning Luna in Crisis.
That’s a stupid name. Selene’s comment is pretty mild, though. It’s not bothering her that much; she just thinks my naming sense sucks.
God, if we ever have kids, she’ll be a nightmare about her opinion of their names.
Not unless you call them something stupid. Like Lemon. Or Grape. Or Sawdust.
Despite the gravity of the situation, I laugh at the idea of shouting for a toddler named Sawdust to come home for dinner.
Elverly grabs my elbow in a grip reminiscent of eagle’s claws. “Have you eaten?” she snaps. “You’re skin and bones.”
I’m pretty sure I’ve actually been gaining weight, though I don’t argue with the gnome. Her harsh words are always meant to hide her true feelings. “No. I was kind of busy being chased down by a big, bad wolf.”
Oh, wow. Apparently Functioning Luna in Crisis also has a sassy mouth.
Please stop calling yourself that. Guess it’s bothering her more than I thought.
No. It’s just childish.
Oh.
Elverly grumbles, “That’s no excuse to skip breakfast,” like it wasn’t a pack-wide tragedy that just happened. With dead people.
Fuck, I haven’t even gone to identify all the dead and wounded. That’s next on the list.
Only if things are calm enough. Grimoire’s doom-and-gloom observation sends a little shiver down my back, but then again… He’s right. We’re sitting around waiting on some notice from the scouts. Any minute now, shit could hit the fan.
It takes a second for me to realize Elverly disappeared. She’s probably scrounging up my dinner, complaining the entire time about how I can’t even walk to the cafeteria to get it.
I love her. She might grumble, but she does what needs to be done. I need to be as efficient as her. Less mouthy, though.
“Kellan.” Yanking my brain out of these stupid side pathways it keeps going down, I remind myself that I’m a Functioning Luna in—
You have to stop.