POV: LUNA SILVER
The night air bites my nose, but I stay still.
I press my white tail tight against my belly and slide farther under the metal slide.
Cold sand scratches my knees.
I hear kids laughing above me, but they can't see me.
Good.
If they see my tail, they will know.
And if they know, I am in big trouble.
My heart thumps so loud I think it might pop out.
I cover my chest with both hands, so that I can keep the sound inside.
The moon is big tonight.
It peeks through the holes in the slide roof and paints silver spots on my fur.
I wish the spots would hide me better.
They don't.
A sneaker lands near my head.
Dust falls into my eye.
I blink fast.
The sneaker belongs to Sky Bloom, the blue-wolf girl who always wins the races.
She is bragging about her new time.
I don't care.
I just want her foot to move away before it steps on my tail.
The shoe lifts.
I breathe.
Sand shifts as more kids run.
The slide above me squeaks.
Someone is climbing up the ladder.
The screws rattle.
Each rattle feels like it rattles inside my ribs too.
I count to ten in my head.
Mom used to say counting makes fear shrink.
One… two…
It is not working.
Eight… nine…
My tail twitches on its own.
I grab it with both hands and squeeze, begging it to stay still.
A whistle blows.
The coach calls everyone to line up for the moon race.
Feet pound the dirt away from me.
The sound fades like waves pulling back from shore.
I wait one extra second, then crawl out.
I stand.
My knees shake.
I brush sand off my gray leggings.
The moon stares at me, round and bright, like it knows every secret.
I look away.
My hoodie is too small.
The zipper only goes halfway up, so my white fur peeks out like spilled milk.
I zip as high as I can and tuck my tail into the back of my pants.
It hurts to bend it like that, but pain is safer than being found out.
The race line forms on the far side of the field.
I see Finn River standing at the front.
He is taller than everyone, even the sixth-grade boys.
His black hair shines like wet paint.
One streak of silver runs through it, matching the silver on his front paw when he shifts.
He laughs at something Sky says.
I feel funny inside, like I swallowed a bubble.
I should walk over.
I need to race.
If I skip it, Coach marks me absent, and Alpha King Finn notices.
Noticing leads to questions.
Questions lead to the truth.
The truth leads to banishment.
My tummy twists.
I take one step.
My boot sinks into soft dirt.
I take another.
Each step feels heavier, like my shoes fill with rocks.
Halfway to the line, my tail slips free.
It flicks out behind me, white as fresh snow.
I gasp and spin, stuffing it back.
No one saw.
I hope so.
Finn turns his head.
His eyes find me across the field.
Silver eyes.
They glow a little under the moon.
I freeze like a deer in headlights.
He lifts one eyebrow.
I can't tell if he is curious or annoyed.
I give a tiny wave.
He nods once and looks away.
My heart keeps thumping.
I reach the back of the line.
Kids bump me as they wiggle into place.
No one smells my fear.
Good.
Wolf noses are sharp, but I sprayed pine water before school.
Mom's old trick.
She is gone now, so I do it myself.
The coach blows the whistle again.
"Race one lap around the field.
Touch the crystal tree, then return.
No shifting until you pass the swings.
Ready…"
I crouch low.
My fingers dig into the dirt.
The cold feels good.
It keeps me awake.
I stare at the crystal tree far away.
Its trunk glows soft blue.
I need to touch it and run back.
Simple.
I can do it.
I must do it without shifting.
"Go!"
Kids explode forward.
I push hard.
My legs pump.
Wind slaps my cheeks.
I stay in the middle of the pack.
Not first, not last.
Invisibility is safe.
Sky Bloom shoots ahead, blue braid whipping like a flag.
Finn stays right behind her.
He runs easy, like the wind carries him.
I watch his feet.
They land so lightly.
I copy the rhythm—left, right, left, right.
It helps me stop thinking about my tail.
Halfway to the tree, my hoodie rides up.
Cold air hits my back.
I feel the tip of my tail peek again.
I want to stop and fix it, but stopping means last place.
Last place means eyes on me.
I keep running.
I pray.
The crystal tree gets bigger.
Its light flickers like tiny lightning bugs trapped inside.
I reached out.
My fingers brush the rough bark.
Static shocks my skin.
The shock travels down my spine straight to my tail.
My tail bristles and tries to pop out fully.
No no no.
I clench every muscle to lock it in place.
It hurts so bad my eyes water.
I keep running.
On the way back, the field tilts uphill.
My breath burns.
Kids pass me.
I let them.
I just need to finish.
I count the steps again.
One… two… three…
The bubble in my tummy grows bigger.
It feels like the twins inside are running too.
But that is impossible.
They are not born yet.
Still, the flutter is real.
Ten yards left.
I see the finish line chalk mark.
Finn already stands there, first place, not even breathing hard.
Sky is second.
They watch the rest of us.
I push a little harder.
My tail cramps, but it stays hidden.
I crossed the line fifth.
Good enough.
Coach claps.
"Nice job, runners.
Water break."
Kids scatter toward the fountain.
I turn away fast.
I need the dark corner by the bikes.
I need to fix my tail before someone bumps it.
I take two steps.
"Luna."
Finn's voice stops me like a rope around my neck.
I turn slowly.
He walks closer, silver eyes studying my face.
I tuck my hands behind my back so he can't see them shake.
"You okay?" he asks.
His voice is low, only for me.
It sounds softer than when he talks to the pack.
I nod too fast.
He tilts his head.
"You ran funny at the end."
I swallow.
"Just tired," I croak.
I try to smile.
My lips feel stiff.
He keeps looking.
I feel my tail twitch against my spine, begging to be free.
I hold my breath.
If he smells fear, I am done.
Alphas notice everything.
Finally he nods.
"Drink water.
Next race is Friday."
He walks off.
My knees almost fold.
I hurry to the bike rack.
Shadows hide me there.
I pull my hoodie down.
My tail slips out and hangs loose.
I let it breathe.
The pain eases.
I lean against the cool metal and close my eyes.
The moon moves higher.
The playground empties.
I should go home, but home is an empty den now.
Mom died last winter.
Dad left when I was little.
I live with Aunt Jay, who works night shifts.
She won't notice if I stay out longer.
I sit on the ground and hug my knees.
My tummy flutters again.
I press a hand there.
Two tiny kicks tap back.
I gasp.
It is real.
The healer was right.
I am ten, and I am going to be a mom.
No one can know.
The law says a common wolf who bears the Alpha's pups must leave the pack.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Tears slip hot down my cheeks.
A shadow falls over me.
I look up.
Finn stands there again, blocking the moon.
His face is serious.
He holds something in his hand.
He opens his fingers.
On his palm sits the small crystal chip I must have dropped when I touched the tree.
It glows soft blue, same as the babies' kicks feel inside me.
"I think this is yours," he says.
His eyes move from the chip to my wet cheeks, then to my white tail curled beside me.
His mouth opens slightly.
He sees.
He knows.
I freeze.
My heart stops.
The world holds its breath.
And then the school bell rings for night class, shattering the quiet, but Finn does not move.
He just keeps staring, and the crystal in his hand begins to pulse in time with the secret kicks inside my belly.