Rejected mythical Luna

My earliest memories were of loneliness and survival. Abandoned as a pup, I grew up wandering the edges of packs, always longing for a sense of belonging that remained just out of reach. Every attempt to join a pack ended the same way—with rejection. No parents, no known bloodline, no place to call home. To them, I was nothing more than an outsider. Unworthy.

The sting of rejection hardened me, shaping me into a survivor. I learned to rely on no one but myself.

That changed when I was fifteen.

I stumbled upon Maron, a reclusive she-wolf who had long turned her back on pack life. Grief had driven her into isolation after she lost her mate in a brutal war, but something about the lost, starving girl standing before her softened her heart. She took me in—offered me food, shelter, and, most importantly, kindness.

Being a teenager was hard enough, but being one who hadn’t shifted yet? Even harder. Still, I managed to pull it off.

One evening, as I crept toward Maron, trying to sneak up on her, she turned just before I could pounce. She grinned knowingly.

“Happy eighteenth birthday, darling.”

I stopped in my tracks, eyes widening at the sight before me—a well-made cake with a bold "18" written on top. My mouth fell open slightly.

“So this is why you sent me hunting earlier, isn’t it, Ma?” I smirked, calling her the name I always had. She was the closest thing to a mother I’d ever known.

Maron chuckled. “Maybe.”

“Thanks, Ma. I really appreciate it,” I said, settling down beside her. I eyed the cake playfully. “Hope it’s edible this time.”

She burst out laughing. “I think so, Rex. I followed the recipe book you gave me last year—after I completely ruined that last one.”

I laughed along with her. “Guess we’ll find out. You first.”

Maron nudged the plate toward me. “Oh, no. Birthday girl goes first.”

I grinned but leaned back dramatically. “I’d rather not, Ma. I’m only eighteen! I can’t die yet—I haven’t even shifted or met my mate!” I counted on my fingers for emphasis.

Maron’s laughter softened as she shook her head. “Speaking of shifting… tonight should be the night. The clearing outside should be perfect for your first transformation.”

My heart leaped. “Finally! I can see what it actually feels like to shift.”

I jumped to my feet, ready to race back to my room, when Maron called after me, “You didn’t eat the cake yet!”

I pretended not to hear her, dashing off with laughter trailing behind me.

I barely felt like I had slept when Maron’s sharp voice woke me.

“The moon is out, Rex. It’s almost time.”

I sat up groggily, then remembered what was happening. Excitement rushed through me. This was it. My first shift.

I followed Maron to the clearing she had mentioned earlier. It was an open field, barren but bathed in silver moonlight.

“Stand in the center, my dear,” she instructed. “The moment the moon passes over you, the shift should begin.”

I stepped forward, rolling my shoulders. “Alright, Ma. I’ll just stand here like a sitting duck,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

She smiled but didn’t respond.

Minutes later, we felt the shadow of the moon move. Maron stepped back.

“Almost time,” she called.

And then it happened.

The moment the moon’s light touched me, something ignited inside. A surge of power coursed through my veins, overwhelming and uncontrollable. My knees buckled, and I collapsed.

Damn, Maron could have warned me about this part.

The air around me shifted. My senses sharpened—I could hear, see, and feel everything with new clarity. Then, a voice echoed in my mind.

Ria.

I sucked in a sharp breath. My wolf.

Not now, Wolfie, I thought, trying to focus on shifting. But something felt off. The power within me built to a breaking point—and then, just like that, it vanished.

The moonlight dimmed. The pain disappeared. My senses remained heightened, but something was missing.

I wasn’t in my wolf form.

I looked down. Same arms. Same legs. Same human body.

Maron rushed to me, concern written all over her face. “What happened?” she asked, checking me over.

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, shaking my head in disbelief. “I felt the shift coming. My senses kicked in. I even heard my wolf.” I exhaled sharply. “But I didn’t shift.”

Maron's brows furrowed, but she quickly masked her worry. “Shifts are different for everyone, Rex. Yours might just take a little longer.”

But I could see it in her eyes—she had no idea what had happened either.

I forced a smile. “I’m sure I’ll shift when the time is right. No need to worry, Ma.”

She pulled me into a tight hug, and for the first time that night, I let my guard down.

After we said our goodnights, I climbed into bed with one lingering thought:

When exactly will that time be?

One year later:

Maron stood in front of me with another cake, a warm smile on her face.

“Happy nineteenth birthday, Rex.”

I looked at the cake, then at her.

“I went into town to get it this time,” she added.

I let out a small chuckle, but deep inside, the weight of the past year settled over me.

A whole year had passed. And still… no shift.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I guess the time still isn’t right.