The wolves' village was alive in a way the survivors had nearly forgotten. Stone houses clung to the cliffs, roofs pitched against the wind. Smoke curled from chimneys. Timber halls were carved with knotwork, and narrow paths led to stables and a smithy where hammers rang on iron. Wolves padded through the streets alongside men and women, shifting with casual ease.
For those who had stumbled here from the ruin of the stronghold, it was staggering. After years of ash and fear, here was laughter, barking dogs, and the smell of fresh bread. It was too much like the world they'd lost, and no one knew what to do with it.
---
It didn't take long before wolves began assigning work. Survivors had to pull their weight, and it became clear quickly that no one here was coddled.
Clint puffed his chest and threw himself into hauling beams from the sawpit. "See? Easy as breathing. Bet none of you could lift this." He flexed unnecessarily, sweat dripping down his face as he staggered with the weight.
"Careful," one of the wolves drawled. "You'll tear something."
Kara leaned on the stacked logs, arms folded. "More likely he'll break the beam. He's as clumsy as a cow."
Clint shot her a glare. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Kara. Some of us were born with bear's blood."
"Bear's blood?" She snorted. "Donkey's blood, more like. All brawn, no sense."
Laughter rippled from the wolves watching. Clint flushed red but refused to drop the timber.
Elise, sleeves rolled to the elbow, wasn't hauling beams or splitting logs. She'd been sent to the healer's lodge, carrying baskets of herbs. "Where should I put these?" she asked softly.
"Over there, sorted by root and leaf," the healer's apprentice replied. Elise obeyed without fuss, hands quick and precise. When another apprentice fumbled, she corrected them gently. "If you crush it, the oil spoils. Like this." Her tone was mild, but there was sharpness underneath — Elise noticed everything.
---
Later, Elara slipped into the healer's lodge. The air smelled of sage smoke and blood. Corin lay pale on a pallet, her skin clammy, bandages darkened at the edges.
Elara dropped to her knees. "You're still with me?"
Corin's eyelids fluttered open, and her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Barely. But you'll have to try harder if you want rid of me."
Elara laughed shakily, brushing hair from her brow. "You scared me. I thought—"
"Don't say it." Corin coughed, then winced. "I'm not one of them. Whatever else I am, I'm not that."
The healer moved between them, changing the bandages with efficient precision. "She heals faster than most. Still, she will be weak for weeks. Keep her quiet. Calm."
Corin groaned. "Calm? In a wolf den? That'll be the death of me."
Elara squeezed her hand tighter, blinking away tears. "Don't joke."
Corin's eyes softened. "If I don't joke, I'll cry. Let me have this."
---
Outside, the village hummed with life. Elara walked through the square, but every step prickled her skin. Wolves watched her. Some dipped their heads. And always, under the noise of the crowd, that word whispered like a ghost: Lunara.
Her name wasn't Elara anymore, not to them. She spun once, catching the gaze of two young wolves. They ducked their heads and moved away.
Caleb fell into step beside her. "What did they call you?"
"Nothing." She bit the word too fast. Then, softer: "Just… a name that isn't mine."
Caleb frowned, but said nothing. His eyes kept moving, scanning for threats even here, where no one else saw danger.
---
That night, they were led into the great hall. Long tables ran wall to wall, piled with steaming bowls of stew and slabs of bread. Wolves sat in both forms — fur brushing against shoulders, claws next to cutlery. Survivors hesitated before lowering themselves among them.
Clint grabbed a hunk of bread and tore into it. "Now this—this is a feast! Real food! Beats chewing leather strips till your jaw falls off."
"Eat with your mouth closed," Kara muttered, stabbing her spoon into the stew. "Might save us all from choking on your boasting."
"Boasting? You sound jealous again." He grinned wide. "Don't worry, Kara. Maybe you'll get a fox or something in the ritual. Suits your sly tongue."
"Better a fox than a donkey who thinks he's a lion."
Elise smirked faintly, sipping broth. "At least Kara's insults are accurate. Your strength's real enough, Clint. Your brains, not so much."
The wolves chuckled low. Clint flushed but said nothing.
At the far end, Caleb sat stiff, eyes flicking constantly, never relaxed. He barely touched his food.
Elara ate in silence until she heard it again, clearer than before: Lunara.
She slammed her bowl down. "My name is Elara," she snapped, her voice slicing through the hall.
Silence fell. Dozens of yellow, gold, and green eyes fixed on her. Wolves glanced at each other but said nothing. Slowly, the noise returned — laughter, spoons clinking, voices murmuring — but the word hung in the air like smoke.
---
Later, needing air, Elara slipped outside. The mountain was awash in silver moonlight. Garrett leaned against a post, massive arms crossed, gaze fixed on her.
"You're being watched," he said.
"I know."
"Names carry weight. More than stone. More than blood. You may not want it, but they see Luna when they look at you."
Her temper flared. "My name is Elara."
He studied her a long moment. Then her eyes flicked to where children played by the firelight — the same ones who had run to him earlier.
"I didn't know you had kids. I mean—pups—I mean…" She faltered, cheeks flushing. "What do I even call them?"
For the first time, Garrett chuckled. A deep, rumbling sound. "They're my children. Pups if you're cheeky. Family all the same."
"Family." The word stuck in her throat.
He nodded, his expression hardening again. "And family needs a Luna, whether she likes the name or not. That's the truth. You'd best get used to it."
Elara hugged her arms around herself. She wanted to argue, but the weight of the word family pressed too deep. For the first time that night, she had no answer.