His Unwanted Exile Becomes The True Luna

ra

hovel, biting into my skin like icy needles. We had

, dragging my catatonic father down beside her. "Perhaps..." she whispered, her v

o.

ud. My voice wasn't loud, but it car

d up at me, their ey

gaps in the splintered wood. "The wind chill will freeze

pe a few dozen yards away, shielded by a high ridge of earth and

ched toward the slope. The sheer force of

h into the snow, but it snapped instant

is teeth chattering. "We need to b

he Frostfang Wilds, fire is a beacon. It doesn't just in

nstincts momentarily eclips

g no room for argument. "Find the largest, sharpest

r. Then, without a word of protest, they turned and began scouring the

hing it against the earth. My hands were soon slick wit

. "Elara, stop," she sobbed softly, her maternal instincts breaking her heart. "I'll find a way to s

was the one who ensured our exile. Begging would only hasten ou

ng sure my voice carried over the howling wind

l not beg for their scraps. Here, in this wild land, we will build our own Pack, our own fortress. We will not be de

rd since our sentencing-lifted his head. A faint, desperate spark flickered in his

len

arth kept the brutal winter at bay. I stood by the pristine glass w

lfless*

frozen dirt in the freezing dark. My logical mind scoffed at th

my inner Lycan, let out a low, r

weight. *Look closer. There is a pattern. A purpose. She builds

d my Lycan instincts violently clashed, tearing at my sanity. I couldn't understand this fra