The Luna He Lost to the Moon Goddess

When they found me, I could no longer hear my wolf.

Every winter, Frostpine Pack held a winter hunt. It was also the Alpha’s patrol through the northern border, meant to clear rogue scent before the deep cold settled in.

That day, snow buried the ice-pine forest. The forward patrol sent a warning.

Rogues had crossed the border.

The formation tightened.

I was an Omega, my wolf weaker than most. Adrian had only allowed me to join because I was assigned to the rear line with the signal flares, far from the rogue trail. I did not leave my post on my own.

In the chaos, Celia came to me and said the rear signal had failed. Adrian needed the spare flare pouch from the edge path, she said, and if I delayed, the patrol would blame me for holding everyone back.

So I followed her signal.

At the edge of the trail, Celia caught my wrist and shoved me toward the wrong side of the ridge. Her voice slipped through the storm, low enough for only me to hear.

“A weak Omega like you thinks she can be Frostpine’s Luna?”

I stumbled back.

The ice cracked beneath me.

Then I fell into the border ravine.

Celia did not fall. Later, I learned a rogue had left a rogue-tainted gash across her forearm before she collapsed on the retreat path. When Adrian found her, she was bloodied and shaking in the snow.

By then, the ravine had swallowed me.

I survived there for seven days.

At first, I stayed under the ice wall and waited for the mate bond to lead Adrian to me. We had not completed the bonding ceremony, and our mind link was unstable, but I still thought he would feel something.

The first night passed.

He did not come.

On the second night, rogue scent circled the ravine. My wolf whimpered inside me, too weak to shift, too weak to do anything but curl against the cold.

By the third day, my food was gone.

I tore bark from frozen trees and dug bitter roots from the ice. My fingers split open. The wound in my ankle tore again and again. Worst of all, my wolf grew quieter with every hour.

Not asleep.

Dying.

On the seventh morning, a patrol wolf caught my fading scent near the border.

He said it did not smell alive.

It smelled like a dying wolf.

Soon, snow vehicles stopped above the ravine.

I forced my eyes open and saw Adrian first.

Even without the final bond, his nearness still pulled at my chest.

But Celia stood behind him in a heavy fur-lined winter cloak, her injured forearm wrapped in bandages, her face pale and carefully protected.

Adrian strode toward me.

For one foolish moment, I thought he might ask if my wolf was still alive.

Instead, his voice came colder than the snow.

“Why did you leave formation?”

I stared at him.

There was no relief in his eyes. Only anger.

“Celia said you broke from the rear line and ran toward the ridge after she warned you not to,” he said. “I pulled three border patrols away to search for you. Do you know how dangerous the north has been?”

I lowered my eyes.

There was no point explaining.

Celia had spent years turning every conflict between us into proof of my jealousy. Whenever she was involved, Adrian never believed me. No matter what I said, he always asked the same things.

“What are you acting out this time?”

“Are you trying to make everyone think Celia hurt you again?”

So I stopped speaking.

The pack healer crouched beside me. His expression changed as he examined my wounds.

“Alpha,” he said quietly, “her wolf is dangerously weak. If this continues, she may lose the ability to shift.”

Something finally moved in Adrian’s face.

Before he could speak, Celia lowered her eyes and said softly, “Elena has always had a fragile wolf. Maybe the cold only made it look worse. Once she rests in the infirmary, she should stabilize.”

The healer frowned. “Alpha, this is more than ordinary Omega weakness.”

Celia held her injured arm closer to her chest, her voice trembling just enough. “I’m not trying to take treatment from her. I only don’t want everyone to panic because of me.”

Adrian’s hesitation vanished.

“Prepare Elena for transport,” he ordered. Then he turned to the healer. “Treat Celia’s arm first.”

The healer froze. “Alpha, Elena’s wolf is in greater danger.”

Adrian’s voice dropped.

“I said treat Celia first.”

The clearing went silent.

No one spoke for me again.

Celia stepped closer, stopping just before touching me. Her eyes were red, her face soft with practiced concern.

“Elena, stop fighting him. You’ve suffered enough. Just admit you broke formation. No one will truly blame you if you confess.”

The more gently she spoke, the colder Adrian looked.

“You should be grateful Celia’s arm can still heal,” he said.

“If her wolf had been damaged because of you, dying on the border wouldn’t have been enough.”

I looked up at him.

The mate bond tugged faintly in my chest, but it no longer tore me open.

Maybe my wolf was too weak to hurt for him.

Maybe I was.

Adrian only took my silence as defiance.

“The bonding ceremony is suspended,” he said. “Until you admit what you did and apologize to Celia, I will not mark you before the pack.”