Inside Luna was just like her mother…
Dramatic in her internal reactions to everything. Intense in ways that would terrify people if they knew how much she felt. Thinking in declarations and exaggerations that would have made Lykea proud if she'd been alive to see them.
Only nobody knew because Luna had learned to hide it all too well.
Nobody except her shadow wolf who'd seen her cry in the darkness more times than could be counted, who'd witnessed breakdowns she'd never allow another living being to see.
But the wolf didn't count because it was part of her, an extension of her shadow rather than a separate witness to her weakness.
And it hadn't been there for her earliest years when the intensity had been the purest and most uncontrolled.
At seven, all the intensity had been concentrated into a grief so pure it felt like drowning.
'Mom is gone… Mom isn't coming back. The world is horrible and dark and will never be good again.'
