Luna of Rogues

Part 1 - An Unusual Childhood

My pack always hated me. They had their reasons, although I didn't know it at the time, but there's no reason on earth which could excuse the systematic isolation and bullying of a seven-year-old by grown adults. If I wanted to eat, I stole, and if I was caught in the packhouse, I was dragged outside and cussed out. They stopped short of beating me. Just.

The hunger and the cold, I could handle. The loneliness was harder to bear. I had lived in a house until I was about five, but my memories of it were hazy to say the least and whoever had taken care of me there was gone now. My parents, if they were alive, never made an appearance. The other children steered clear if I was lucky and taunted me if I wasn't. I didn't belong in the pack, and they all knew it. Born to be wild, maybe.

I would have run away if I'd had anywhere to run to. Sometimes, when I was near the border, staring at the bone fence, I would get tempted. But somehow the hell I knew was preferable than the one I didn't. And so I stayed, learned to dodge the blows and run when I couldn't, and spent the first years of my life miserable and scared.

It was only when I left my birth pack that I could be a normal child. Well, I wouldn't say normal, but I was happy. Let's start at the beginning, though. How I met Fion.

***

I wriggled forwards on my stomach under the bench, trying so desperately to keep quiet. All around were pack chefs preparing the Alpha's dinner. No one had time to deal with me ... or so I hoped. I had spotted my target from outside -- a tray of freshly baked loaves resting on a countertop. That would feed me for a few days, if I was careful.

To be honest, I was a dreadful thief, but I never let that stop me. When I thought everyone's backs were turned, I darted out from my hiding place to snatch at the food. Even as my fingers closed around the bread, a hand grasped my wrist, forcing me to drop it.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" a voice hissed into my ear.

Maia -- possibly my only friend. She didn't share the others' opinion that I was to be avoided at all costs. But even the kind kitchen-helper didn't dare interact with me openly. It was like I was tainted, and anyone who spent too much time around me would catch it. The rogue taint.

On this occasion, she marched me out of the back door without anyone else catching sight of me, then turned on me angrily.

"Stealing, again?" she scolded. "You're lucky it wasn't one of the others who caught you."

"Sorry, Maia," I said, hanging my head and easily pulling off the just-an-innocent-child look. Young as I was, even I knew it was bullshit, so I wasn't quite sure how Maia didn't. I could have snuck into the kitchen at night with half the risk, but the food wouldn't be hot or fresh.

"Just don't do it again," Maia said. She pushed the loaf into my hand with a final tut.

"Thank you," I replied quietly, then dashed towards the woods before any other pack wolves spotted me. But I wasn't fast enough, apparently, because I found myself surrounded by the gang of youngsters who took pleasure from bullying the little kid. I couldn't blame them, really: they were only following their parents' example.

"Hand it over," their leader told me. He was a tall teenager with a cruel smile, maybe twice my height. "You know what we do to thieves."

It was an odd world, where children fought over a loaf of bread rather than sweets.

I would've happily flown at them, if it hadn't been four against one. With an exaggerated sigh, I offered the bread to the boy. Just as he reached out to take it, I slammed my knee into the easy target between his legs. Then it was just a matter of dashing through the gap which emerged. I wasn't exactly a brilliant fighter at the age of seven (especially compared to some people, mentioning no names), but I was pretty damn fast for a kid.