The Moonborn

The moon had long since dipped beyond the trees when Diva stirred, the soft breath of dawn brushing against her thick white coat. She blinked awake beneath the shadow of an old boulder, nestled in a hollow of fallen leaves and moss. Her limbs ached from the night’s run, and the ache in her chest—one she’d tried to outrun—lingered heavier than ever.

She had left her territory behind. Left Derek. Left the pain of loving a pack that never truly felt like hers.

Now, she walked alone.

The woods here felt different. Wilder. The scent of pine clung to her fur, mixed with the distant traces of other wolves—unfamiliar, but not immediately hostile. She’d kept to the borders last night, cautious of stepping too deep into another pack’s range. But this morning, something tugged at her senses. Not danger… something else.

A faint padding reached her ears. She snapped her head up, her muscles coiling instinctively, but her posture eased when she recognized the small figure bounding through the underbrush.

“Aila?” Diva shifted to two legs, rising slowly, her bare feet silent on the forest floor.

The pup skidded to a halt, her eyes wide and bright. “You stayed!”

“I didn’t plan to,” Diva replied gently, kneeling. “But it seems the Moon had other ideas.”

Aila’s tail wagged furiously, and she leaned into Diva’s touch. “I followed your scent. It was like... like the wind was showing me where you’d be.”

Diva frowned slightly. Wolves didn’t usually say things like that—especially not pups. The Moon Goddess didn’t just send feelings on the wind… unless She wanted something.

“You’re a strange little wolf,” Diva said softly.

Aila giggled, shifting from foot to paw and back again in excitement. “You have to come meet Elder Mayla. She’ll know what this means!”

Before Diva could question it, the pup bolted, yipping for her to follow.

Diva hesitated. Her instincts screamed to keep moving, to stay out of pack affairs. But the tug in her chest was undeniable. And so, she followed.

The path narrowed, branches snagging at her clothes, until the trees opened into a small, hidden settlement. Dens were dug beneath tree roots and covered with woven branches. Wolves moved about—some in fur, others in skin—pausing to stare as Diva stepped into view.

She felt their eyes on her: cautious, curious, a few reverent.

“She’s the one who saved the pup,” someone whispered.

“Look at her… silver in her eyes.”

“She’s not from around here.”

A tall she-wolf emerged from one of the central dens. Her fur was streaked with gray even in human form, her back hunched slightly with age, but her gaze was sharp, ancient. A hush fell over the clearing as she approached.

“You are the stray the little one spoke of,” the elder rasped, her voice low and firm. “The one who came from moonlight.”

“I didn’t come from anything,” Diva replied carefully. “I’m just passing through.”

Mayla stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. She reached for Diva’s wrist, and before she could pull away, the elder pushed back her sleeve.

There it was—a pale crescent just below her skin, faint but unmistakable.

The elder inhaled sharply.

“It’s true,” she breathed. “The mark of the Moonborn.”

A ripple ran through the gathering wolves.

“No. That’s just a pup’s tale,” one muttered.

“A legend,” another scoffed. “Meant to keep pups obedient.”

But Mayla stood tall. “That mark hasn’t been seen in four generations. And no ordinary wolf brings light into a dying pack’s dark. The Moon doesn’t make mistakes.”

Diva pulled her wrist back, unsettled. “I’m not your savior. I didn’t come here to fulfill anyone’s prophecy.”

“No wolf ever chooses the will of the Goddess,” Mayla said. “She chooses them.”

Before Diva could respond, a sharp howl cut through the air. Wolves poured into the clearing, dragging a limp body between them. Blood matted his fur, deep claw marks across his flank.

“They struck again,” one growled. “Hollowfang patrol. We lost two more on the ridge.”

A younger wolf snarled, teeth bared. “They’re bleeding us dry. One den at a time.”

Diva stepped forward, ignoring the gasps that followed. “You’re under attack?”

Mayla nodded grimly. “They want the land. The river, the forest… They think we’re too weak to fight.”

“And are you?” Diva asked.

The silence that followed was answer enough.

She looked around at the faces—tired, beaten, but not broken. Her gaze returned to Aila, watching with wide, hopeful eyes.

Something stirred in her chest. That same fire that rose when Derek tried to silence her. When others underestimated her.

“I’m not your Luna,” Diva said, her voice steady. “But I am a warrior. And I don’t run from injustice.”

A beat passed. Then another.

A lone howl broke the stillness.

Then another.

And then the whole clearing erupted in a chorus of howls, high and deep, rising into the morning sky.

Mayla stepped forward and drew a crescent in the dirt at Diva’s feet, then circled it with four marks—symbols of the old prophecy.

“The Moonborn walks among us,” she said. “And with her, hope returns.”

Diva stood tall, wind tugging at her hair, the rising sun catching the silver in her eyes. She didn’t know where this path would lead.

But for the first time, she wasn’t just surviving.

She was becoming.