Luna the Lone Wolf Read online

  Luna

  The Lone Wolf

  Forest Wells

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  LUNA THE LONE WOLF

  First edition. April 6, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Forest Wells.

  ISBN: 978-1733712415

  Written by Forest Wells.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Praise for Luna, the Lone Wolf

  Author Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

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  About the Author

  To my mom,

  go ahead, embarrass me.

  To Mary Rosenblum, Barbra Savage, and Jane Lindskold,

  here is the fruit of your patience, advice, and and friendship.

  And to the victims of 9/11,

  without whom this book, and this author, would not exist.

  Praise for Luna, the Lone Wolf

  “I LOVE HOW WELL AND accurately the author portrays the wolves. He's obviously very knowledgeable on them. Each character is so unique it makes the story riveting. Overall it's very well rounded and engaging. I'd recommend it to everyone. (And I have.)”

  – Jensen Reed

  “Wolves have been at the core of American culture and lore for centuries, and (Forest) Wells takes all the charm and characteristics that have so fascinated us about the species, and lends to them a new depth and meaning.”

  – Sammie B

  “Luna the Lone Wolf is more than just a thrilling tale featuring wolves, humans and the problems that arise between them. It's a journey. Forest leads the reader on an emotional journey with Luna. The reader will laugh, cry, and sometimes even shout as they travel with Luna. An imaginative tale told from a whole new perspective, you won't be disappointed. Luna the Lone Wolf is a novel everyone can enjoy, from a YA reader, to a classic fiction reader; everyone will find something to enjoy.”

  – Hollie Hausenfluck

  Author Foreword

  THIS NOVEL HAS BEEN many years in the making, and I would need another novel to properly thank all of those that made it happen. The best I can do is simply state here how amazingly grateful I am for everyone that endured the many days working with me on this, even when I was driving them crazy. Some of which include:

  The late Mary Rosemblum, who never stopped answering my questions, no matter how stupid. I’m sorry you never got to see the fruit of that patience. Laurel, my first fan, who kept asking me when it was coming out. My mother, who God bless her, even at her most tired, remains my sounding board. My brother and family, who are always ready and willing to give advice and help where they can. Samantha Leigh, who put me on a path that would lead to everything coming together in just over a year. Jane Lindskold, my good friend and mentor, who would have never let me hear the end of it if I gave up. Barbra Savage, God rest her soul, who would have slapped me a dozen times for the same reason. Cheryl Pensis, who saw my potential through the scars and the anger, and helped me learn how to live with Dysgraphia. The many artists and professionals, who stayed patient with me as their client, and deserve more pages than I can give them. My beta readers, Jensen, Samantha, Karina, Julissa, and Jaimie, who came in when I needed that final, critical eye upon my work.

  Even this list is incomplete. People who helped in ways I’ll never know. Those I’ve forgotten through the fog of Dysgraphia and time. Still others simply because I didn’t want to fill an entire page with every single name on the list. People may talk about how I overcame my learning disability to write this novel, but I couldn’t have done it without all of you who stood with me over the years on my journey.

  And finally, I must say something about my dedication. On September 11th, 2001, 2,996 people lost their lives. Families across the nation lost someone. Meanwhile, in the little town of Thermal in the Coachella Valley, one life was saved.

  I was one bad day away from suicide when I woke up to those towers burning on the TV. The full impact didn’t hit me until a full list of the dead was printed in the newspaper the next year, but its effect began on that morning. I’d always written stories when we had journal time in school. Yet it wasn’t until a classmate read of poem about the attacks that the muse woke up. I wrote my own poem that afternoon. I wrote horrendous first drafts months later. I believe this novel was actually born somewhere in the following October, or November, I’m not sure which. But most of all, it woke me up.

  I saw how fragile life was. I saw how important it was to try things, to do things, to take advantage of the days I have, for I may not have many. I took life by the horns and made it work for me for a change. I still had bad days, but because of those events, and that poem, suicide was no longer an option. I found my passion, my reason to fight on, and for the first time, I found a pack to run with that, three years later, would rise to defend me.

  In the famous “Last Lecture”, Randy Pausch said that walls are there to test how bad we want something. Because of 9/11, no wall could keep me from writing, and because I had my writing, I was able to keep on going. I wish it hadn’t happened. My life isn’t worth that many, but I can’t change the past. I can only use the future they gave me.

  On September 11th, 2001, 2,996 people died. On September 12th, 2001. Forest Wells, the author, was born.

  Nothing I do or say can make up for that loss, but at least because of it, I have the opportunity to try. Because of them, this lone wolf found his pack, his purpose, and overcame his pain, to become the person so many thought I could be.

  To them, and to everyone that helped me get here, “thank you” is not enough.

  “It doesn’t matter how long it takes to get there.

  It only matters that you keep plugging along.”

  – Forest Wells

  Chapter 1

  I AM FEARED.

  The feeling coursed through my veins as I followed a scent through the forest. The trail led me toward something that would soon be my next meal. A rabbit based on the soft, earthy smell on the wind. I only had to find it, and catch it.

  It was about time too. Three moons old, and growing fast, my siblings and I saw no reason to be treated like pups. Wolfor’s fang, we didn’t even look like pups anymore. Much of my puppy fur had turned gray and silver, darkening on my back. The “silver sheen,” as Mother called it, on my neck and hackles had only gotten brighter, though a slight touch of black seemed to outline it.

  Father and other adults followed nearby, but this hunt was ours, and ours alone. I followed the trail through brush and leaves, sniffing so fast I might as well have been breathing through my nose. My only pauses came when the trail seemed to thin, or even vanish.

  It was during one of these pauses that my brother, Rajor, tried to push past me to find the trail. Much like the rest of us, his puppy fur had taken on adult coloring. In his case, his fur was turning solid black, aside from a hint of a gray tint. He also needed reminding of his place. Pushing past me like that was an act of dominance he had not earned. As such, I snarled and nipped at him, threatening to do more if he didn’t submit. Rajor froze, while his ears and tail fell in submission. They didn’t stay down long, but I accepted it even so. He kept an ear turned my way as he hunted for the same trail.

  About time that happened too. Se
ems he’d finally begun to respect my position as alpha male of the litter, if only a little. I hope it stays that way. The fight it took to claim that spot from him hadn’t been easy. I did not welcome the thought of having to do it again.

  I snorted and pressed on with the hunt. The scent was so strong and clear, I wondered why I couldn’t see my prey. I trotted along its path, with Rajor and my sister, Jinta, beside me. The rest of the litter were caught among themselves, trying to find the very trail we now followed.

  I wanted to run full sprint after our prey, but we only had the scent to follow, and sprinting would make it impossible to find. So the three of us walked on, sniffing at every turn to make sure we didn’t lose it. We were getting closer, and my heart pounded with every step. At last, my hunt, my kill, all I had to do was... dig it out of the ground?

  The trail had gone into a hole much like one Rajor had found before, except this one lay under roots as big as Father’s legs. I’d never fit in the hole, and I wasn’t about to stick my muzzle into it and carry the same scratches on my nose as Rajor. That was one mistake I did not intend to repeat. Of course, if he did, that’d be okay. When Jinta and Rajor followed the scent to the same end, they slumped with a frustrated growl.

  Then Jinta looked at me. “Now what do we do, big brother?”

  I turned my ears back to say I didn’t know, then looked to my father. His fur was a dark gray on his back and hackles that quickly faded around the edges to a more medium shade on his head. His legs and underside were cream and white, as was his face and muzzle.

  “Father,” I said, “how do we get to it without getting our noses scratched like Rajor did?”

  Rajor gave a short growl, while Father’s ears flashed back in a cringe. “Luna, you’re old enough,” Father said. “It’s time you used my name. They are part of our identity, and we must not allow it to be lost. As for the rabbit, you have to scare it out. This one chose its den well, but it’s not perfect. For one thing, the den seems rather new, which means it hasn’t had the chance to dig other exits yet. Here.”

  Fath... Toltan gently nudged Jinta and Rajor into positions around the hole. “Jinta, Rajor, you two stand at the entrance. Leave enough space between you so you won’t bite each other. Luna, when I tell you to, dig on the other side of the roots. The rabbit will think you’re digging toward him. When he tries to run, he’ll run right into Rajor or Jinta.”

  I thought about insisting I be part of the kill, but being the reason it happened was enough. Besides, maybe the gesture would earn me some respect from Rajor that didn’t require my fangs. While Rajor and Jinta found their distance, I chose my point of attack from the other side. The rest of the litter caught up to us, and Father told them to watch and learn. When he did, a rush went through my body that made it feel like I could tear the tree right out of the ground if I had to.

  This kill would belong to the three of us, no one else. Our first of many, and I would lead it. It didn’t matter that Rajor glared at me the entire time, or that he might get the kill. It was my hunt. I tried to avoid breathing too hard as I waited for Toltan to give me the word.

  Toltan glanced at Jinta and Rajor, flicked an ear, then turned both ears toward me. “Okay, Luna. Dig!”

  I tore into the dirt with all my energy. Earth moved in paw-filled piles, slowed only by roots quickly torn through by my claws. An excited growl vibrated through me with every paw of dirt I flung out behind me. As I got deeper, I could hear something. A rustling, skittering sound, like twigs bouncing off each other. I could only guess it was my prey. It seemed to be moving back and forth, as if unsure which way to run. As my paws got closer to the sound, for a moment, I wondered: will I get the kill myself? My paws didn’t have much farther to go. I only had to dig a little more, break into the den, and I’d be able to land the killing bite myself. I could prove myself a skilled hunter in one act.

  As the dirt softened, a streak of fur flashed out of the corner of my eye. When I looked up after it, I found Rajor and Jinta staring after a rustle in the brush nearby.

  Toltan sighed while rubbing Rajor’s cheek. “Try harder next time.”

  “Yeah, like at all,” Calon, another of my brothers, said.

  While Toltan snapped a reprimand at him, I growled at my sinking heart. My hunt, my kill, denied by a brother who hates me. I had to wonder if he missed on purpose. After three moons of bullying, I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “We’ll find him later,” Toltan said. “Right now, I want you to practice the basics. There’s a field near here full of mice. There, you’ll learn the simple techniques you need to—”

  All ears perked toward an odd sound from deep within the forest. At first, it sounded like thunder, but it didn’t rumble, nor did it linger. Just one sharp craack, then an almost whistling repeat of the same sound as it faded. Toltan stepped on stiff legs toward the sound, his ears up and alert. The rest of the pack watched and waited, though some drifted closer to the pups.

  Craack!-cshoo-shoo

  Everyone flinched, with more than a few pups dropping their ears. The adults scanned the forest with straight ears and darting eyes. Noses and eyes searched for threats, though some tails were close to tucking as they did.

  I moved closer to Toltan, trying to deny my own fear. “What is that?”

  Toltan’s voice, for the first time I could remember, wavered. “I’m not sure. I’ve only heard it once before. We never found the source then either.”

  “It sounds like thunder,” Rajor said.

  “Yes, it does. Just like the thunder I heard before—”

  Craack!-cshoo-shoo

  I hugged the ground, again startled, though my ears stayed up in search of the source of this new sound. Part of me wanted to find it so I could know what it was, and then maybe learn it wasn’t worthy of my fear. The rest of me decided going the other direction made more sense. More so as new smells floated on the wind. One was dirty, almost stifling, while others were sweeter, and still more were somehow tart and bitter at the same time. I think I smelled fur too, but it was unfamiliar, as was a kind of sour I’d never smelled before, and something close to... smooth rock? It was the only description that came to mind when I found a scent of something sharp and tangy. What is out there?

  “Back to the dens,” Toltan said. “Things are not safe here. Keep your ears open and your nose alert. If something seems wrong, voice it.”

  Rajor looked after our prey. “I’m not leaving. We came out here for hunting lessons, and you can’t make me...”

  Toltan went stone stiff. His ears were forward, his hackles started to rise, and his eyes narrowed as they locked onto Rajor better than any bite. There his gaze stayed, ready to bore a hole straight through Rajor if he didn’t back down. We pups, and much of the pack, called it the “death stance.” When Toltan entered it, you only challenged him if you wanted to die. The rare times someone did, they were always pinned before they knew what happened.

  When Rajor’s ears and tail fell, Toltan only moved enough to speak.

  “Your lessons can wait. Now move!”

  The pack moved in a tight group back to the meeting area. The pups were kept between the adults, never allowed to roam past for any reason. Every adult continued to check the winds and the forest in search of danger, some with still low tails. I looked back the way we’d come, longing for the kill that got away, but also keeping my ears up in case that weird sound happened again. I heard only the steps of the pack, and my sigh at excitement unrewarded. Next time, I get the kill.

  The group didn’t spread out until we had arrived back home. Mother... Martol greeted Toltan with a rub and a soft whine. She had a pelt of thick silver fur that looked smooth and flat, as if it only knew how to be soft.

  “Everything all right?” she said.

  “No,” Toltan said. “Did you hear the thunder?”

  “Yes. Gave us quite a start. I was worried—”

  “Luna!” Lonate, our primary pup-sitter, interrupted my perked attention
of my parents. “I said follow me. I want you pups where I can watch you.”

  I couldn’t resist. “Watch us, or just Rajor?”

  Lonate growled and snapped at me. I fell onto my side with a whine of submission, more so because his fur made his glare that much worse. It was mostly white below, but black covered his back, neck, shoulders, and top of his head. His face and throat were white, forcing my eyes to focus on his. Worse than angry, they were heavy with his own brand of disappointment. One that somehow made you hurt as if he’d bitten you.

  “I thought better of you,” he said. “An alpha should have more respect for his members. Especially his own brother.”

  Did you bother to tell him that? “Yes, Lonate. I’m sorry.”

  “Good. Now come.”

  Despite the scolding, Lonate gave me a soft nuzzle on our way toward a hillside on the edge of the meeting area. The pack’s dens had been dug into the base of that hillside, which only had one tree at its top. The hill itself went straight up about as high as two adults or so, yet it tapered down the sides enough to be easily walked on.

  As we walked, I took Lonate’s nuzzle as a sign of respect, though it didn’t make me feel much better about myself, or the day.

  Much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Rajor’s lack of respect for me did not mean I had the right to disrespect him. The thought festered in my stomach, tightening even more as I noticed the adults had made a border around me and my siblings. It made it quite clear how little freedom we had at the moment. More so when I looked at the wolves near the dens and saw them give any pup who came near a straight-eared glare.

  Sure, we had an open area among the trees to play in, but we didn’t dare play near the dens, because one of them held a new litter from Solas and Carfen. Toltan had made it clear: no one plays near them, which meant our limited area was even smaller. I tried to listen in on Toltan and Martol, but my head slumped onto my paws when I found I couldn’t hear them. What a fine end to a fine day. A failed hunt, lessons stopped by a strange thunder in the forest, Martol and Toltan appear worried, and now Lonate’s mad at me. At least there’s nothing else I have to deal with.