Moonhunter

Chapter 5 .: Solitude :.

.: Chapter 5 :.

Solitude

      Luna limped to the lump of hay she had made her bed, tired from all the running and energy she’d used. She had run across a rundown farm, and thought it a good place to rest. The barn was devoid of any animals, which she was grateful for.

      As she settled down on the hay, she thought about what her grandfather would have thought about the situation. Once upon a time, any memories of her life before now would’ve been painful. So much time had passed that she could look back fondly on those memories.

      A distant part of her mind wondered when the nightmares would cease and she could sleep peacefully without worry.

      Despite herself, she grinned.

      “Unproper!” her Grandpapa would have said, “For a girl to be sleeping in a barn—how disgraceful!” Grandpapa had always had distorted ideas about ladies and men. True, he was old-fashioned; she would’ve liked to have seen more action, though.

      The stories she’d heard, however, had always made females out to be the strongest. After all, the first Moonhunter had been female. All the stories told a heroine, not a hero.

      Lots of things Grandpapa had believed in she had disregarded once he was gone. Love—and all the wishy-washy feelings that accompanied it—for one. It wasn’t as much distaste for those who had it as it was complete bewilderment. How could anyone trust someone else with their life?

      She remembered having a mild crush on her tutor once. He’d been gentle, kind, and a good teacher. The dizzying feelings had seemed good, but when she had seen his lover, those feelings had changed into something much more painful and unwanted.

      She remembered friends who had their own unsuccessful ventures with love. They had recovered but she remembered how much they had suffered at the hands of “love.”

      Luna looked up at the moon and recounted the tale of Moon and her lover.

     Moon had been a quiet girl; always calm, always solemn, always composed. She never talked too loudly or quickly. She never treated others with coldness—while at the same time, not in warmth. All the adults looked at Moon proudly, comparing her to their own children, blazing with envy at Moon’s mother.

      This lack in warmth, however, had ended in Moon not having any friends to play with.

      There were many boys who liked Moon—she was beautiful, radiant, and calculating—but she treated them with cold indifference. Her own parents she treated with distant politeness. The painted face she wore was a mere façade; a masquerade she played for all the adults who wanted one.

      The adults were pleased with it; her own age-mates saw through it.

      No one knew that there was a person for whom Moon treated differently than others.

      There was Sun whom Moon loved.

      He was popular.

      He was blindingly handsome.

      But most of all, he was carefree. never feeling a need to act like Moon did. He was admired by many—in a way different from Moon was. All the village girls swooned over him, wandering from place to place in awe.

      It drove Moon to tears when she realized that Sun shared the same feelings for her.

      However, Moon liked the cold night, while Sun loved the warm day. It was an impossible feat for them to be together all the time. The compromise they made was simple—they met at two times each day, at dawn and at dusk. Whenever they met, Sun embraced Moon warmly and they exchanged words of sweet nothings. Their time as lovers was short-lived, however.