Chapter 8: Running with the Moon

The days after Lucian's choice passed in a haze of numbness and grief. Mira moved through the village like a ghost, her heart a hollow ache in her chest. She avoided the communal areas where Lucian and Selene might appear together, their new bond a constant reminder of what she had lost. The pack's celebration of their Alpha's choice echoed through the woods for days, but to Mira, it sounded like a funeral dirge.

She kept to the shadows, helping Anya with herb gathering and tending the fires, but her mind was elsewhere. The forest called to her more than ever, its wild spaces offering the only solace she could find. She would slip away for hours, running through the trees in her wolf form, trying to outpace the pain that followed her like a shadow.

But something was wrong. Her body felt different, foreign in ways that had nothing to do with heartbreak. She woke each morning with a strange nausea that left her retching into the bushes behind the cabin. Her senses were sharper than usual, every scent overwhelming, every sound too loud. Her emotions swung wildly from despair to rage to a bone-deep exhaustion that sleep couldn't cure.

At first, she attributed it to grief. The loss of Lucian, the shattering of her dreams, the cruel reality of watching him with another woman—surely that was enough to make anyone sick. But as the days passed, a terrible suspicion began to take root in her mind.

One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of orange and gold, Mira sat by the river where she and Lucian had shared their first kiss. The memory was both precious and poisonous, a reminder of what they had been and what they could never be again. She pressed her hands to her stomach, feeling the subtle changes in her body that she had been trying to ignore.

Anya found her there, concern etched on her face. "Mira, you look pale. Are you sick?"

Mira's throat tightened. She had been avoiding this conversation, this terrible possibility, but she couldn't run from it any longer. The signs were all there—the nausea, the exhaustion, the way her body seemed to hum with a new kind of energy.

"I think I'm pregnant, Anya," she whispered, the words falling like stones into the quiet evening air. "Lucian's child."

Anya's eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. "Are you sure?"

Mira nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I can feel it. I know it's true." She had always been sensitive to the changes in her body, attuned to the rhythms of the moon and the wild magic that flowed through her veins. This was different, deeper—a life growing inside her, a piece of Lucian that she would carry forever.

The reality of her situation crashed over her like a cold wave. The pack would never accept a child born of a forbidden union, especially now that Lucian had chosen Selene as his mate. The elders would see it as a threat to the established order, a reminder of their Alpha's transgression. And Selene—Mira shuddered to think what the new Luna would do if she discovered the truth.

"What will you do?" Anya asked softly, her voice full of fear and sympathy.

Mira stared at the water, watching the moon's reflection tremble on the surface. She thought of Lucian, of the way he had looked at her during the ceremony—distant, cold, as if their nights together had meant nothing. He had made his choice, and it wasn't her. It would never be her.

But this child—their child—deserved better than to be born into shame and secrecy. Deserved better than to grow up as a reminder of their father's moment of weakness, their mother's foolish hope.

"I have to leave," Mira said, the words tearing from her throat like a physical wound. "I can't stay here. Not with this secret. Not with his child."

Anya's face crumpled. "Mira, no. This is your home. Your pack. We can figure something out—"

"There's nothing to figure out," Mira interrupted, her voice growing stronger with each word. "The pack will never accept this child. And I won't let them suffer for my mistakes." She stood, her decision crystallizing like ice in her veins. "I'll leave tonight. Before anyone else finds out."

That night, as the village slept, Mira packed a small bag with only the essentials—a change of clothes, some dried meat, a water skin, and the few coins she had saved over the years. She moved silently through the cabin, careful not to wake Anya, though she suspected her friend was only pretending to sleep.

At the door, she paused, looking back at the only home she had ever known. The rough wooden walls, the simple furniture, the scent of woodsmoke and pine—it was all she was leaving behind. But she couldn't stay. Not when staying meant watching Lucian build a life with another woman while their child grew in secret shame.

She slipped a note under Anya's pillow—just a few words of goodbye and gratitude, knowing her friend would understand why she had to go. Then she stepped out into the cool night air, her heart breaking with every step.

The forest welcomed her with open arms, the familiar paths guiding her toward the edge of Blackpine territory. She moved like a shadow, avoiding the patrol routes she had memorized since childhood. Her wolf senses were heightened by pregnancy, every sound and scent magnified, but she used them to her advantage, staying one step ahead of discovery.

As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, Mira reached the boundary stones that marked the edge of her world. She paused, one hand pressed to her still-flat belly, the other clutching the strap of her pack.

"I will keep you safe," she whispered to the life growing inside her. "No matter what it costs me, I will keep you safe."

Then she stepped across the invisible line that separated her old life from whatever lay ahead. The forest stretched endlessly before her, wild and dangerous and free. She had no destination, no plan beyond survival, but she had something more precious than either—hope.

As the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink, Mira ran. She let the wolf in her take over, her human form melting away as she embraced the wild. Her paws pounded against the earth, carrying her farther from everything she had ever known and toward a future she couldn't yet imagine.

Behind her, Blackpine Pack slept on, unaware that one of their own had vanished into the dawn. It would be hours before anyone noticed she was gone, and by then, Mira would be nothing but a memory, a ghost story whispered around the fire.

But she carried with her something that could never be erased—Lucian's child, growing strong and wild in her womb, a living testament to a love that had burned bright and brief as a shooting star.

The forest called, and Mira answered, running toward whatever destiny awaited her beyond the horizon.