[ Parallel occurrence : The day after but at the Blackmoon pack ]
The sun climbed lazily across the sky, spilling gold over the dew drenched earth like honey. It was one of those mornings where the air felt soft...lightly kissed by wind, warmed by light, scented with wet bark and crushed clover.
The first light of dawn crept through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft gold. Lyla stirred, her body aching as if she had been trampled by a herd of wild horses.
Every muscle protested as she shifted, her limbs heavy, her head throbbing dully. But as the sun’s warmth touched her skin, something inside her unclenched...just a little.
She sat up slowly, wincing as her spine cracked. The sheets were tangled around her legs, damp with sweat. She did not remember dreaming. She no longer dreamt actually.
And she did not remember much of last night at all. Just fragments...the blur of trees, the water in her lungs...the sting of a slap, the bitter taste of something forced down her throat.
She pushed the thoughts away.
Outside, the world was still bathed in that honeyed light, the grass still glittering with the morning dew...the breeze still carried the scent of earth and wildflowers...so sweet it almost hurt.
Lyla adjusted her eyes slowly.
Everything still hurt.Her neck, her legs...even her toes ached like she had been dragged through hell and dropped onto land half alive.
But she didn’t mind the pain.
It was proof that she was still here. Still breathing. And she was getting too used to it already.
The curtains at her window fluttered.She blinked slowly at the brightness. Somewhere beyond, the birds sang and leaves rustled like whispers.
Her motions felt like wading through water.
Her feet hit the cold marble floor, and she took a step quietly, stretching like a shadow coming back to life. She moved towards the door and inhaled deeply.
The grass outside gleamed under the morning light, freckled with tiny diamonds of dew.
Lyla didn’t bother with shoes.
She wanted to ’feel’ this.
Barefoot, she stepped out onto the garden path. The moment her skin met the earth, a slow breath escaped her lips. The cold dew kissed her toes, made her shiver with delight.She stepped off the path and into the grass.
The blades curled under her arches. The crunch of old leaves crackled under her heel.
Slowly. Like a dreamer wandering through a painting.
Above her, the sunlight spilled through the trees in golden shafts. A few petals from the flowering vines swirled down lazily around her shoulders. She caught one, rolled it between her fingers. It was soft and damp and smelled of citrus.
Her eyes fluttered...closed.
For a moment...just a moment...Lyla let herself imagine that this was her life.
She was only just beginning to breathe again, to relish the kiss of breeze on her skin, when suddenly...
"LYLA!! Lyla, you stupid girl... there you are!"
The voice crashed through the stillness like a stone through glass. She froze...her heart stuttering before her body even turned.
"There you are, getting your feet dirty, you stupid little thing..." Roanoke’s voice cut through the trees as he stalked towards her like a predator with no leash. "You are a Luna, for fuck’s sake. Behave like one."
Lyla turned slowly, blinking against the sun. Her calm crumbled. Like a paper flower wilting under scalding rain.
Roanoke’s mouth twisted with disgust. "And you have a husband, remember? Do you even know where he is now? That he didn’t come home last night? Do you even care who he has been fucking while you are out here playing in dirt like a complete fool?!"
Lyla gave a small, bitter scoff. "Why should I care when he clearly told me that he didn’t love me. That he can never love me. Because his heart belongs to someone else. He just took me as a wife... a responsibility. That’s it."
Roanoke’s face contorted.
"The fuck he said? ! He can go fuck his honesty! Responsibility, huh? How’s he taking your responsibility fucking whores all night?"
She looked away, folding her arms, trying to hold herself together as the weight of his fury loomed closer.
"I really don’t care, Father. It’s his life."
His hand shot out and he gripped her by the arm...too tight, like he wanted her to bruise just from hearing his truth.
"His life? Not when he knocks a child inside someone else!"
Lyla’s mouth parted, breath caught.
Roanoke yanked her closer, grabbed her chin roughly, and forced her gaze upward. His nails bit into her cheeks.
"Look at me when I am talking. You wouldn’t even be breathing if it wasn’t for me. So don’t give me your petty attitudes." His face was too close again. Spitting rage. "I told you...you need to get pregnant, didn’t I? So do it. Use your Luna powers and go check where the hell he has been all night."
His voice dropped, turned venomous.
"Moon forbid if he found his way back to that wretched bastard."
Lyla stilled. Her lashes lowered. Then slowly, her head tilted.
"...Wretched bastard?" she echoed. "You mean... my sister, right?"
Roanoke’s jaw clenched so tightly his neck twitched.
Lyla stepped back, out of his grip, and turned away.
Glanced back over her shoulder.
Her eyes were dry now. Too dry.
Her voice was soft...almost... dead.
"What are you going to do if he did, Father? Chain his heart? Lock it up in your box of curses and hoaxes?" She let out a short, sharp laugh. "You can’t."
She took another step away.
Roanoke didn’t stop her this time.
Not until she turned again.
One last look. One last sentence.
"And by the way, Father..."she said, her voice floating like a thread in the morning breeze. "I am doing exactly what you asked me to do."
Back into the silence.
Leaving muddy footprints behind...