Train Depot

Sleeping in the woods felt better than I could have imagined. It was freeing in a way that made me question why I'd ever forced myself to stay in that suffocating house for so long. The night air was damp and the ground was cold and unforgiving, but I didn't mind. It was quiet. I could hear the wind and my own thoughts and nothing else. No whispers behind my back. No knives hidden in smiles. No footsteps pacing outside my bedroom door.

I wondered, as I lay there with my hood pulled over my eyes and my arms folded beneath my head, how much freer I'd feel if I just kept walking. If I stepped past the border of this pack's territory and never looked back.

It's not like anyone was going to come find me and drag me home. Not to keep me safe, anyway. Maybe to punish me, but not to save me. That house already decided what I was — poisoner, punching bag, curse, scapegoat. They could choke on that story for all I cared.

When the sun started to peek through the canopy, I stood up and brushed the dirt and leaves from my clothes. I flexed my sore arms and winced when I spotted the angry red cuts on my shins, half-healed but still raw from being dragged down those steps. The bruises on my ribs throbbed.

I wasn't going to stay in the woods forever. I needed to move before Jason's guilt — if he even had any — turned into rage and he sent someone to find me. The last thing I needed was Elliot's meathead thugs sniffing me out.

I crept out of the treeline and down a narrow back path until I found a tiny cottage with laundry strung out on a line to dry. Luck or fate — didn't matter. I needed a disguise. There was a robe hanging there, dark blue with stitched moons and stars, the fabric heavy and just long enough to cover my battered legs.

I checked the windows, listening for signs of life. Nothing but a snoring dog inside. Perfect. I slipped the clothespins off one by one, careful not to let them snap back. I wrapped the robe around me, pulled the hood low over my face, and slipped away before anyone inside even turned over in their sleep.

I followed the winding path until it spat me out onto the main street. The road was lined with little shops and colorful flower carts. Children ran past me, laughing, their shoes scuffing the cobblestones. Merchants shouted prices from behind stalls piled high with fruit and woven blankets. Couples leaned against wooden posts whispering secrets, like they'd die if anyone heard.

The sun felt too warm, almost mocking. The breeze lifted the edge of my hood and brushed my cheeks, making me ache for a bath I'd never get.

Seeing civilization again after three months trapped in that house working made my chest squeeze tight. I hadn't realized how much I craved it — voices, noise, the smell of baking bread and fresh-cut flowers. A place where no one knew who I was. Not yet.

I drifted through the crowd, head down, eyes sharp. I kept my steps light, ignoring the way my knees still burned with each step. A young man passed by, fumbling with his basket of goods, too distracted by his giggling girlfriend to notice me slip a fresh bread roll from the top.

I bit into it while I walked, stale but sweet with raisins, crumbs sticking to my dry lips. I didn't taste much of it. I only cared that it kept the growling in my stomach at bay.

I passed a small knot of townsfolk leaning against a cart. Their words slipped through the breeze like knives.

"... Alpha's furious. Apparently the Luna the oracle chose was this vicious person all along."

"That's just awful if it's true."

"It has to be. I heard it from the Alpha's brother — Elliot said she tried to kill another pack member with poison."

"By the moon! That's terrible!"

So I was a poisoner now. I felt my lips curl into a bitter smile behind the hood. Vicious. Poisoner. Curse. The titles kept multiplying like rotting fruit.

If that was the story they were telling, then I couldn't afford to let my face be seen. People would remember me — the Luna who tried to kill the Alpha's 'true love'. If they saw me, they'd drag me back. I wouldn't even get the luxury of a fair trial.

My best chance was to get out fast — and the fastest way was the train. I'd seen it a handful of times when i was allowed to 'assist' with the monthly supply checks. A depot on the edge of the territory, small enough to slip through, big enough to get me far.

I found it tucked behind a row of overgrown bushes, a single wooden bench half-rotted from rain. The ticket window was manned by a scowling old man with tufts of white hair sprouting from his ears. He squinted at me, his eyes darting to my leg where the cuts had reopened and dried blood streaked my skin.

"Next train leaves in an hour. That'll be eight silvers."

Eight silvers. I'm fucked.

I didn't have anything at all. How could I have forgotten I'd need fare? I glanced around at the station — families perched on crates, a mother rocking a baby, lovers draped across each other's shoulders. Surely someone would spare a coin if I begged a little.

I clenched my jaw. I'd spent my entire life scraping by on scraps. I could do it again.

"Um, excuse me?"

A tiny tug on my robe made my spine stiffen. I looked down to see a girl — maybe twelve — staring up at me with big brown eyes and a freckled nose. Her hair was tied back with a fraying pink ribbon.

"Yes?" I asked, forcing the edge out of my voice.

"My mommy said you'd give us a reading. We've been waiting for you to come back for two weeks already."

A reading? I glanced at the robe — stars and moons shining bright as day. Of all disguises, I'd picked the one that invited the entire territory to knock on my door.

Great thinking Bonnie!

"I'll give you three silvers if you tell me if I'll be famous or not!" she said, eyes bright with hope.

Three more silvers. That was almost enough for stale bread to keep me moving for two days. I could do worse than a fortune.

"Oh! You're that little girl!" I forced a warm smile that felt foreign on my lips. "What's your name again?"

"Pippa!"

"Show me your palm, Pippa."

She stuck out her tiny hand, so trusting. I traced the lines with my finger, ignoring the way my cuticles bled when I bent them too far.

"See this line here? That means you're stubborn and ambitious. You like to do things your way."

"Woah!" she breathed.

"And this mark means you'll always have a home with your mommy and daddy, no matter how far you go."

"That means I'll make it far, right?"

My chest tightened. I shouldn't poison her with my bitterness. "You'll be famous in your own story — that's better than relying on all that fake support."

"What?"

"The best kind of famous is being famous to your mom and dad. No matter what happens, stay strong. Promise?"

"Promise!" Pippa squealed. She dropped three silvers in my palm and scampered back to her mother, who nodded at me with grateful eyes.

I slipped away to a crate tucked behind the depot fence. I sat, rolling the coins between my fingers, letting the cold metal anchor me. I could feel the stares — people eyeing the dried blood on my cheek, the robe that screamed witch. Next time I stole something, I'd remember that subtlety existed for a reason.

My ribs still ached from Jason's shove. My scalp still burned where Elliot had yanked my hair. But the worst pain was that pit of emptiness in my chest. The echo of that house, the cheers when they threw me out like garbage.

It made it hard to breathe.

"Hey! You doing street readings today?"

I cracked an eye open. A ring of teens surrounded me, wide-eyed and giggling.

"Depends on who's asking," I said, my voice as dry as old bone.

"See? Only a witch would say that! I told you it was the real deal!" one boy laughed, elbowing his friend.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

"Love fortune! We've got silver, we just want it real. How about twenty each?" a girl asked, bouncing on her toes.

Twenty. That was a warm bed and food service and a ticket out.

"Sit," I said.

She dropped to the dirt in front of me, holding out her palm like it was holy. I traced the lines, letting the nonsense pour out.

"Your love lines are tangled — see how they cross your fate line? The one you lost will circle back if you stop chasing."

"Excuse me?" she blinked.

"You must fully let go of what burdens you to be free."

She nodded like I'd gifted her wisdom from the moon and pressed twenty silver into my palm. "Me next!"

I read them one by one. Your new flame will find you at the next mating ceremony. Your oath is crooked — fix it or stay miserable. Don't let your friends hold you back from your destiny.

They soaked it up like rain after a drought, paying me more than I'd ever dared hope. By the time they scattered, giggling and hopeful, my pockets were heavy with enough silver to ride seven trains and eat until my ribs stopped showing.

I stood, ignoring the twinge in my side. If I was leaving, then I was taking back the only thing I really had to give that was mine. When I was hound, I put up a protection barrier around the pack to protect the pack I lived in. After Jason left, I'd put a stronger protection barrier in its place. It was my magic that kept them safe and healthy. My power that kept the monsters out.

Not anymore.

I whispered the old words under my breath and felt the binding snap like old rope. My magic rushed back into my bones, warm and sweet, knitting torn skin, soothing bruises, healing the ache in my ribs and my face.

A laugh slipped out — rusty, cracked — but it was mine. And it felt nice to have it back again.

***

When the whistle blew, I stepped up to the ticket window and slapped down my silver. "One ticket. As far as the train goes. Food service too."

And as the train rumbled away from the depot, I felt the last of that house, that territory, that cage slide off my shoulders like a second skin.

For the first time in my life, I was nobody's Luna.

For the first time in my life, I was free.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are have now exited BlueMont. The next station is Fairfield."