When The Moon Calls You Home

The car bumps and shakes as it moves along the dark road. I hold my teddy bear tight against my chest. His fur is rough and smells like home, or what I remember of home. It’s been hours since we left there. Maybe days. I can’t tell anymore. My eyes are tired, but I’m too scared to sleep. Two people sit in the front of the car. A man and a woman. They never told me their names. They don’t talk much, not to me or to each other. I asked once where we were going. The woman said, “To your new pack, little one. Be quiet now.” Her voice was cold. Not mean, just empty. Like she didn’t care. So, I stopped asking questions. The trees outside the window are tall and black against the moon, like claws reaching for me. I try not to look, but the shadows move like they’re alive. My small wolf whines inside me. She’s scared too. The car slows onto a dirt path. Gravel crunches under the tires. My heart races. I don’t know why we’re here, or who the Moonfire Pack even is. The man grunts, “We’re here.” The car stops in front of a large, three-story house with wide steps leading to a big wooden door. Lights glow warmly, but the place feels cold. Too big. Too strange. The woman gets out first and opens my door. “Come on, Sage.” She says. “Don’t make this harder.” I climb out, clutching my teddy. The air is cold and smells like pine, wet earth, and unfamiliar wolves. A tall man and woman wait on the porch, strong and serious. The man has dark hair streaked with silver and sharp golden eyes that pierce me. The woman has long brown hair tied back and kind blue eyes, though she seems unsure. The man’s voice is deep. “You must be the messengers from Bloodstone Pack.” “Yes.” Says the man from the car. “We’ve brought the pup, as agreed.” I stare at the ground. Dirt seems safer than their faces. The Moonfire Alpha folds his arms. “And the terms?” The woman from the car says quickly, “She stays here until she turns eighteen. You keep her alive, you feed her, and you make sure no one knows what she really is. When she’s of age, she returns to her home pack to fulfill her obligations. That was the deal.” Her words make my stomach twist. Obligations? What does that mean? I don’t understand. The Luna steps forward. “She’s just a child. You make it sound like—” “Don’t forget the deal.” The man interrupts sharply. “You are to keep her safe. Nothing more.” The Luna’s jaw tightens. “She’s a little girl, not a burden.” The two strangers don’t answer. They turn and walk back toward the car without another word. I take a step forward, panic filling my chest. “Wait! Please don’t leave me here! I don’t know them!” But they don’t look back. The car door slams, and the sound echoes through the night like a final goodbye. The engine starts, and the red tail lights disappear down the road. I stand there, trembling. My teddy dangles from my hand. The night suddenly feels huge and empty. The Alpha sighs quietly. “Inside.” He says. “We shouldn’t stay out here.” The Luna bends down so her eyes meet mine. Her voice is soft. “It’s okay, sweetheart. My name’s Elsie. You can call me Luna Elsie, if you want. This is Alpha Joseph. You’re safe here, I promise.” I nod, but I don’t believe her. I don’t feel safe. My heart feels like it’s breaking. She holds out her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you warm.” Her hand is gentle but firm, guiding me up the steps and through the big front doors. The packhouse smells like baked bread and pine wood. It’s too clean, too perfect. We stop in a large living room with a fire burning in the fireplace. It crackles softly, throwing golden light across the floor. The warmth feels good, but it doesn’t reach the cold spot inside me. Alpha Joseph stands by the door with his arms crossed. He looks at Luna Elsie. “Remember the deal.” He says quietly but firmly. “We are not to get attached. She’s not staying.” Luna Elsie looks up at him, her blue eyes flashing. “She’s six, Joseph. I won’t treat her like she’s a prisoner.” “She’s not a prisoner.” He says. “She’s a responsibility. A temporary one.” They stare at each other for a long moment. Then he leaves the room, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. Elsie sighs and looks down at me again. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. He’s just… careful. He worries too much.” I don’t answer. I just clutch my teddy tighter. She studies me quietly for a moment. “You must be tired. Let’s get you to bed.” I nod again because I don’t know what else to do. She leads me up a wide staircase. The walls are lined with pictures of wolves and forests, and I see smiling faces of pack members in the frames. It feels like a home, but not mine. Never mine. At the end of the hallway, she opens a door. My mouth falls open. The room is big — bigger than any room I’ve ever had. There’s a huge soft bed with a fluffy white blanket, a desk, and a window that looks out at the dark trees. Everything smells like lavender and something warm, maybe honey. I look up at her, confused. “Is this for me?” “Of course.” She says with a gentle smile. “Every pup deserves a safe place to sleep.” I remember what the man in the car said. Keep her alive. That’s all I am to them — something to keep alive until I’m grown. “Alpha Joseph said not to—” I start, but she stops me with a kind look. “I don’t care what he said.” She whispers. “You’re a child, Sage. You deserve kindness.” Her words make something ache deep inside me. I nod, even though my throat hurts too much to talk. She walks over to the bed and pats it. “Come on, little one. In you go.” I climb onto the bed, the mattress sinking under me. It feels too soft, too clean. I don’t know if I’m allowed to touch it, but she just smiles again and pulls the blanket up over my shoulders. I whisper, “Thank you, Luna Elsie.” She brushes a strand of hair from my face. “You can just call me Elsie, if you like.” Her touch is warm, and for a moment, I almost feel safe. Almost. Then I remember my mother. Her laugh, her voice, the way she used to sing when she brushed my hair. My chest hurts, and my eyes sting. “Where’s my mama?” I whisper. Elsie’s smile fades a little. “She can’t be here right now, sweetheart.” “Will she come get me?” She hesitates. “One day.” She says softly. “When it’s time.” I nod, even though I know she’s just saying it to make me feel better. She stands up and walks to the door. “Try to sleep. You’re safe here, I promise.” When she leaves, the room feels too big again. Too quiet. The moonlight shines through the window, silver and cold. I can hear faint sounds from outside — wolves howling somewhere deep in the forest. My wolf stirs inside me, curious but afraid. Who are they? Are they my new family? she asks. I don’t know how to answer her. I pull my teddy close, pressing my face into his fur. He smells like home — like my old blanket, my mother’s perfume, and a little bit of fear. Tears fill my eyes. I try not to cry, but I can’t stop it. The tears come slowly at first, then faster, until my pillow is wet. “I want to go home.” I whisper. “Please, I want to go home.” No one answers. Just the soft crackle of the fire across the room and the distant cry of a wolf in the dark. I think about what they said — the deal, the contract, when she turns eighteen. None of it makes sense. I’m only six. Eighteen is forever away. What could they want from me? I curl up under the blanket and hold my teddy so tight it almost hurts. My wolf is small and scared inside me, whining softly. I whisper to her, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.” But I don’t believe it. The wind howls outside, rattling the window. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaks open and closes again. The sound makes me jump. I listen hard, my heart pounding, but it’s just footsteps — maybe Luna Elsie checking on me. I hear her soft voice through the door. “Sleep, little one.” She murmurs. “You’re safe for now.” For now. Those words stay in my head as my eyes grow heavy. I drift off to sleep with tears on my cheeks, my teddy in my arms, and the strange scent of the Moonfire pack all around me. Before I fall completely asleep, I make a tiny promise to myself: If I’m only here until I turn eighteen, then I’ll survive. No matter what the deal is. No matter what they want. I’ll survive. Even if I have to do it alone.