My Fierce Warrior Luna

REBECCA The snow was steaming under my paws, hot and painted red with freshly spilled blood that glowed under the moonlight. I spat out the torn throat of one of my enemies and immediately charged at another. Screams. Groans. The sickening snap of bones. The wet, visceral sound of flesh being torn apart. Gasps and gurgles of the dying. They were all around me, drowning almost every other sound - even the battle cries of my packmates. Claws raked into my side — a foolish, and fatal, mistake. I twisted, my paw slashing through the air, splitting my attacker's muzzle open. The wolf howled, but not for long: a few moments later, he lay dead on the ground. I wasted no further time on him and devoted myself to mowing down, wolf after wolf, the enemy's lines, leaving a trail of death and blood behind me. At least until a huge, black beast stood before me. An Alpha male, at least twice as big, if not more, as me - staring at me as if I were his next meal. His gnashed teeth gleamed red with blood, just like his eyes. Lo and behold, I heard him chuckle. A lost sheep. Are the Blood Moon recruiting pups now, too? I sank my claws into the ground and bared my fangs in defiance. Pups that have wiped out your warriors, if I'm not mistaken, I retorted. You'll be no different. He laughed again - this time with gusto. I am an Alpha, he said. And you're little more than a pup. You'll be fun to use as a toothpick, though. When he attacked me, he found me more than ready. I jolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribs to the point of hurting: I was covered in cold sweats, to the point that my hair was stuck to my forehead and the back of my neck. My throat felt raw, dry - as if a scream had been burning in it. "Nightmare" I gasped, forcing the words out - making sure I heard them. "It was just. A. Nightmare". My body, though, did not agree. A moment later my stomach turned, and I barely made it to the toilet before I violently expelled what was left of my dinner. With a sigh, I leaned back against the cool tiles, trying to catch my breath and calm down. Breathe, I thought, trying to focus on the process of inhaling and exhaling. Just breathe. That battle had happened weeks before now, yet no night went by without me waking up in a panic at least once. Our pack was at war with the neighboring one, the Dark Claws – and the situation was so dire that every single wolf who could shift and fight had been drafted. Even those who were little more than pups, like me. I’d been fighting in that war for months, now – and I was barely eighteen. Despite my young age, I was among the best in our army, fighting at the same level as some of the most experienced wolves: because of this, I was already a captain and had been in way more battles than most of the other soldiers. According to Brody, the Gamma and our trainer, I was on the right track to follow in my parents’ footsteps, and become not just an accomplished general among the pack's ranks, but, in a few years, even War Advisor – a title that would grant me a permanent spot in the Alpha’s council. I took another breath. I’d been raised as a warrior – I shouldn’t have had those dreams, or wake up in a panic every night. It had never even happened to me before, and that hadn’t been my first battle, nor the bloodiest. I couldn’t find a sense in all of this. I was proud of what I was, of what I’d accomplished, of my position in the pack: I was even proud of what I’d done in those battles, of how I’d behaved. Yes, I’d taken lives, but those mutts wanted to attack my pack and the weakest people there – it was my sacred duty to protect them. They were evil, dirty creatures, and I’d killed them. I’d protected my people. Why did those nightmares come back to haunt me, then? “Becky?” The door creaked open, and a shard of light came in as Frances walked in. She had a frown on her beautiful face – a frown I knew all too well. She was worried for me. “Still the same nightmare?” she whispered, sitting down next to me and taking my hand in hers. I nodded weakly. “Sorry I screamed,” I managed to say. “I …” “You were having a panic attack, sweetheart. There’s nothing you have to apologize for" Frances replied. “Come on, let’s get you downstairs – you need a cup of something warm”. Too tired to deny her, I followed her down the stairs and into our kitchen, and sat silently at the table while she fixed me a hot cup of chamomile tea. The feeling of the warm cup between my hands was already soothing – but the first few sips did, as usual, the trick, and I felt my heart slow down. “Thanks” I murmured. She shook her head, still holding my hand. “I’m gonna speak to my brother about this,” she grumbled under her breath. “Sending kids to war … this is asinine”. “Frances, no” I pleaded. “You know as well as I do that, if he could, the Alpha wouldn’t do this. You can trust my word, there are not enough of us to fight them off. We need everyone who can help”. “I don’t care,” she insisted. “There are other ways. He can ally with another pack. What he’s doing is not fair. It’s not fair that an eighteen-year-old wakes up every night screaming her heart out when there are far older and more experienced men and women who could fight in her stead”. I sighed, squeezing her hand. “There are not” I insisted. “I see this every day. Besides, I’m happy and honored to serve my pack, to protect those who can’t defend themselves. I’ve always known this was my duty, my call, and I have no remorse for doing it”. Frances swallowed – and in the dim light of the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of wetness in her dark eyes. “You’re more like your parents every day” she murmured then, with a smile that elicited one from me. My mom and dad had passed away when I was only three during a battle – and from that day on, Frances had been the only parental figure in my life. My parents had no relatives, so I’d been entrusted to the Alpha’s sister, and she had been the most amazing foster mother I could’ve ever wished for. She was kind, loving, and affectionate, and always strived to grant her foster children the best life possible: she had no mate or kids of her own, so she had decided to put her maternal instincts to good use and shower the strays of the pack with it. She was an amazing woman – the one I admired the most. “I remember your father saying very similar words once,” she added. “What I do is not just a duty, is an honor. I fight so that those who can’t get to see another sunrise”. Those words warmed something inside of me – almost as if they were gently easing themselves into my heart. They were so powerful, so true, I already knew I’d never forget them. I’d never heard those words before, but from what I knew about my dad, Grant Storm, I knew it was very likely he had spoken them – and that they’d come from his heart. “They’re beautiful words,” I whispered, finishing my tea. “They are” Frances convened. “I’m still gonna talk to the Alpha – see that he gets you off duty for a few days. You need to rest, darling. Best warrior or not, everyone deserves some time off”. I sighed, but didn’t fight it: I knew it was useless when Frances used the word “still”. She was many things, but pliable or easy to convince wasn’t one of them. In fact, her opinions and will were as strong as iron. So I nodded – and a little crooked smile popped up on her face. “Let’s get you back to bed, now,” she smiled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and guiding me back to my bedroom. She helped me into my bed and tucked me in just like when I was a little girl – and a warm sense of comfort spread through me. “Call if you need anything, all right?” I nodded, and watched as she left the room, closing the door behind her back after a smile and a wave. I grabbed my phone and checked the hour: it was 2 AM – which meant I only had four hours before I had to wake up and go to training. Shit. Thanks to that nightmare, I was now bound to perform awfully at training – and probably during the rest of the day too. I rolled into my bed and forcibly closed my eyes, trying to force myself into sleeping. Hoping that, this time, blood and death wouldn’t come to plague my dreams.