The moon was supposed to be my ally.That’s what my father always said, that the moon watched over all wolves, especially the lost ones.But that night, her light felt like a curse.It spilled through the trees like silver fire, chasing me as I ran, bare feet slapping against the wet earth. The forest was alive with screams, some human, some not. I could smell blood before I saw it. Iron. Smoke. Death.Our village was under attack.The first explosion had torn through the western ridge, scattering homes and hearts alike. I’d been fetching water at the stream when it happened. One second I was humming, the next, the ground shook and a red haze swallowed the stars.Now, as I darted through the trees, clutching the hem of my torn dress, all I could think about was one word pulsing in my chest: run.But there was a cry, high, broken, that cut through the chaos.A child’s cry.I stopped. My breath came in quick bursts, fogging in the cold air. My wolf instincts screamed to keep going, but
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