Lunae Novae

Chapter One

A/N: I'm worse than a reader, I couldn't wait until Friday to post a chapter. Thanks to those who voted! Thanks to AngelaAsylum for editing this chapter. And thank you December172 for listening to all my ideas and letting me know if they're stupid or not.
Comment and vote to let me know what you all think. Much love!

Chapter One

My mother told me the tale of Menily and her Yenaloosi since I was a child. I always wondered why, if Menily cared so much for our race, the Yenaloosi, we’re in the situation we are now. Was it all because of Hekoolas’ overwhelming jealousy? Was any of the story true? How could there be someone watching out for us when so much had gone wrong?

The Great Elders were unsure of how they found us but thought maybe it was time for us to live peacefully together, as the Great Creator had intended. The human's government made a treaty with us, and for decades only a few knew of us and there was peace. But it was not meant to last.

20 years ago, when all the nations of man had united to form one government, the leader of The Council declared a war on the Yenaloosi. He claimed we were dangerous, that we stole their daughters and only cared about our own people. We were a threat to world peace and the unity they had worked so hard for.

They came with guns, the night of our yearly celebration of worship to Menily. We were tired from hunting all night and fat from the spoils of our kills. They hid their scents and snuck up on the Yenaloosi. They tore apart packs all over the world, taking children from mothers and husbands from wives.

The Yenaloosi were given an ultimatum. Fight, and die, or be given an ‘antidote’ that would kill our inner wolves. We could live, but only as humans. Some chose to die and others who believed Menily would save them, took the antidote. Those who took the antidote died anyways or came close to it. The antidote burned our blood into a fever so hot it would kill our wolf, the other half of us.

My mother chose the antidote for her and I, because I was so young the government gave mine to me in a series of shots over the following 15 years. Or so they said that’s what they were giving me. There was speculation about exactly what the antidote was and what they were giving the children. Every six months there was a mandatory check-in for all children younger than 15. We were pumped full of serums and antidotes: Things they claimed would make us normal.

My father and brother were separated from us, and we never saw them again. They split us all up and sent us to camps around the world, which soon turned into communities. The Humans called them “The Slums". We were supposed to become human, accepted, but we would always be lesser than them. We went to separate schools where humans taught us about the mutation of wolves and how we were saved from ourselves. We used different bathrooms, shopped at different grocery stores, and lived on different sides of towns.

My mother and I lived in an old apartment complex with many other former Yenaloosi, and ‘humans' that were deemed too different to reside with the rest of humanity. It was a one bedroom apartment with a rollout couch in the small living room.
The kitchen had enough room for the sink, stove and refrigerator where it looked out into the living room over the counters. I let my mother have the bedroom, where she had her bed, a dresser and an old beat up radio that played constantly.

Once I turned 21, I worked at a restaurant for humans. I looked human, I smelled human, hell-I was human, the only indicator that I wasn’t was the geotag that blinked green under the skin of my arm. The government tagged all of us and knew where we were and what we were doing at all times. If I took a shit in a human bathroom, it would turn red and blink faster until one of the Law Men would come remove me.

I made okay money for a Yenaloosi, or as the locals around here called us, “Yenalooney”. My mother worked at a medical clinic for our kind, which was always filled with beat up Yenaloosi. We made just enough money to survive but my mother always found a way to help others also.

My mother’s name, Zonta, meant trustworthy. And it was true to her character, because everyone trusted her with everything. Before the Yenaloosi were split up, my family was the leader of a small pack. She was the caretaker and mother to the whole pack, and now she was still taking care of her “pack”.

Our community was a group of misfits, Yenaloosi who were descendants of the remaining Three Wolf Brothers. Some where like my mother and I, considered Native American. Others were from Europe and Asia. They were separated from their family and thrown into this town before they mixed us up like a tossed salad.

My mother took the lead of caring for the lost souls, and helped heal the wounds at the beginning. She and my “Uncle” Kleng were the first two who helped rebuild us as a community and a pack. But even after 20 years we were still in shambles.

The Yenaloosi were beaten in the streets by humans, just for being within eyesight. The only reason being was that they could. The ones who fought back, especially the ones who won, were taken away and never seen again.

When I was 8, I was being bullied by some human boys. They had pushed me on the ground and were kicking me. I was crying, asking someone to help me. An orphan boy named Soren came and beat all the boys off of me. Four humans boys to one young wolf, and he won. Before I knew what was happening, the Law Men had come and beaten him into unconsciousness before dragging him away.

His mutilated body showed up at the clinic the next day. I stayed away from humans until I was old enough to stand up for myself. My mother always told me to keep my head down, to follow the rules. Seeing Soren beaten in my dreams every night made me want to do the opposite. I walked with a raised head and clenched fists. What was the point of living if we were going to wish we weren’t alive every day?

Uncle Kleng told me that was dangerous talk. But I wasn’t the only one talking like that. I served two drunk Law Men who forgot I wasn’t human. They were worried about an uprising. There were rumors that a group of Yenaloosi had turned their community into a base of sorts. They followed their own rules and fought the government for their rights. Law Men were killed.

They called themselves Lunae Novae or, The New Moon. They were fighting for a future. They were completely self-sufficient from the human government, and The Council was scared.

It wasn’t just the council that was scared, most, if not all, of the Yenaloosi in my town were petrified. They said we didn’t have it that bad. It could be worse. We didn’t have the strength we used to, we didn’t know if the rumors were true. Were we really willing to die over this?

My mother was the only one keeping us united. She reminded us, at our secret community meetings, that we had to remain strong and stay together. Who else would look out for us other than ourselves? But my mother also wanted peace. She reminded us of the qualities Menily had given our people. We must remain compassionate even to those who oppress us. Maybe, especially to those who oppress us.

But my blood burned. We were also supposed to be strong. What is compassion without strength? In my mind, it was cowardice.

My mother knew how I felt. At night she would braid my long, dark hair and remind me that my faith in Menily should be unshakable. I had to bite my tongue not to remind her that her faith in Menily had gotten her nowhere so far. Nowhere except The Slums.

Maybe it was the human education I had received, and maybe that’s exactly what they wanted to happen, but I couldn’t believe in someone who would allow her chosen people to be beaten and oppressed. Who was to say we hadn’t just been a mutation? In fact, I’d never even seen someone shift. All I had seen were the grotesque pictures they showed in my history class when I was in high school.

Except, there was a tiny voice in my mind, one that only came when I was about to drift off to sleep, that kept telling me it was all real. That my mother was correct. That my people would be restored to our rightful place in the world.

Maybe that’s what was powering the fire that burned in my blood at the injustice of this world. Maybe that’s why I wanted so badly for my people to WANT to join the rebellion. Maybe that’s why I was willing to risk everything.