Alma between two Worlds

The Lamenta Forest stretched out beneath the ghostly moonlight, its dark peaks forming an impenetrable wall around the Keibster pack. Mist crept between the gnarled trunks, giving the shadows the illusion of breathing, alive, moving.

Amidst the darkness, eyes pierced the gloom. Golden pupils, burning with a cruel glow typical of natural-born hunters. The young wolves crouched on the damp ground, muscles tense beneath their tawny or silver fur, ready to pounce at the slightest signal.

But Alma was different.

His coat, silvery white mixed with ethereal hues, seemed to capture fragments of night light, strange and unreal amidst the dark wolves of the pack. The moon slid across his flanks like a silent benediction, a radiance no other Keibster possessed. A singularity that disturbed as much as it fascinated.

She should have been focused. She should have melted into the night, spying on the human prey advancing a few meters away, oblivious to the danger that awaited her.

But Alma raised her head.

Up above, a moth fluttered among the leaves, its slender wings edged with a blue glow. It danced in the fresh air, defying the darkness of the forest, free and carefree. Its flight was an ode to fragile beauty, a gentleness that contrasted with the brutality of the predators lurking in the shadows.

The other young wolves, however, were completely focused on their mission. A powerful howl pierced the silence, the signal from the chief hunter: the attack was launched.

But Alma didn't move.

Instead of preparing to pounce, she snorted, a light, amused breath, incongruous in this context of stalking and blood.

Kaelen, the hunter overseeing their training, didn't miss a beat. He called the pack to him. He stood up slowly, breaking from his perfect stillness to approach her with fluid steps. His dark brown fur rippled beneath his powerful muscles, and his eyes, a piercing amber, bore into her with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

He had never understood Alma.

Where the pack found its balance in obedience and predation, it seemed to be constantly drifting, fascinated by the useless, by the fragile aesthetics of the world, by this gentleness that they despised.

His deep voice echoed, full of reproach:

-You are the destined Luna of the pack, Alma. You should focus on your mission... instead of dreaming about the insects that inhabit the night.

Alma held his gaze for a moment, caught between shame and the silent rebellion burning in her heart. A shiver ran down her spine. Kaelen was right: she was his future Luna, destined for power, shaped to be ruthless.

So why did this simple butterfly inspire more fascination in him than hunting?

A whisper in her mind told her that perhaps she wasn't cut out to rule as others hoped. But what was she then, if she couldn't be an accomplished Keibster?

Alma bowed her head in apology and retreated into the oppressive darkness.

The night was deep, and the flames of a campfire flickered in the wind, casting shifting shadows across the faces of the humans gathered around. Their laughter was soft, light, a harmony that contrasted cruelly with the menacing stillness of the wolves lurking in the shadows.

Alma, positioned a little back, observed the scene. Her pack was ready. Muscles tense, eyes shining with a fierce glow, they waited for the next signal, for that precise moment when human fragility would be eclipsed by the power of predators.

She had to join them. She had to prove that she was worthy of being the promised Luna.

But instead of feeling the raw elation that animated the others, an unexpected wave of remorse seized her, an icy chill that ran down her spine. Her heartbeat quickened, a mixture of fear and dull revolt rumbling in her veins.

Why? Why did this fire, these smiles, this tranquility attract him more than the call of the hunt?

She saw a little girl, curled up against her mother, her arms around an old rag that looked like a doll. Her thin voice broke the night silence, asking her father a question, who answered with a tender laugh.

Alma felt her breath catch. She couldn't let this happen.

Without thinking, her legs moved of their own accord. Far from joining her pack in the shadows, she stepped forward, her pale eyes fixed on the humans. A wild, irrepressible urge to help them escape seized her.

But could she really betray her own people for this inexplicable impulse?

His destiny wavered in this moment suspended between two worlds.

Alma felt her heart clench as she prepared to make a move. Just a gesture, a vibration in the air, a subtle warning that could save these humans from a tragic fate.

But before she could move, a shadow leaped out in front of her, imposing, brutal like an impassable barrier.

Kaelen.

His dark fur blended into the night, but his amber eyes sparkled with an icy intensity. He didn't need words. Her gaze alone was enough to make him understand the extent of his sin.

The forest seemed to hold its breath.

Alma, frozen, felt a shiver run down her spine. Kaelen was close, too close, his imposing stature towering over hers, his presence weighing on her like an inescapable force.

"Don't," he whispered, his raspy voice barely audible, but filled with an underlying threat.

He knew. He understood what she was planning to do. And he wasn't going to allow it.

Alma opened her mouth, searching for an excuse, a way to appease her guilt, but nothing came. All she felt was this burning sensation deep inside her, this uncontrollable need to protect those who should have been her prey.

Kaelen tilted his head slightly, his fangs slightly bared in a barely perceptible sneer.

- What's happening to you in the end? What were you planning to do?

His voice rumbled, low and firm, leaving no room for rebellion.

Alma closed her eyes for a moment. The echo of the campfire still reached her, the murmurs of the humans, their laughter... the innocence they didn't know was about to be shattered.

When she opened them again, Kaelen hadn't moved, but his gaze had hardened.

He was waiting for her answer.

And Alma knew that the slightest misstep could spell her downfall.