His Unwanted Exile Becomes The True Luna

Elara POV

The iron doors of the wagon groaned open. Brutal hands grabbed us, tossing us like sacks of rotting meat into the knee-deep snow. The wagon rattled away without a second glance, leaving us to the dead silence of the Frostfang Wilds.

I didn't waste time shivering. I pushed myself up, scanning the desolate clearing. Underneath a specific cluster of barren oaks, the snow dipped in a peculiar way. *Frostfire Moss.* In my past life, I knew it as a rare, highly combustible tundra lichen. Here, it was our only chance at surviving the night.

I dropped to my knees and clawed frantically at the frozen earth. Ice sliced my cuticles, but I kept digging, my breath coming in ragged white plumes.

"Elara, no!" Catherine shrieked, her frail hands grabbing my shoulders. "Mason, help me! She’s lost to the cold madness!"

Mason’s massive hands wrapped around my waist, trying to haul me up. "Stop, El, you're hurting yourself!"

I ripped myself from his grip. "Let me go!" My voice was a raspy bark, carrying an unnatural, icy authority that froze them in their tracks. I glared at my second brother, who was hovering anxiously. "Finn. Give me that thick branch. Now."

Finn blinked, stunned by the sudden fire in his *wolfless* sister's eyes, and numbly handed it over. Before I could strike the ice again, Mason snatched the wood. His jaw tightened at the sight of my bleeding fingers, his protective instinct warring with his confusion. "Tell me where to hit," he grunted.

Under my sharp directions, Mason shattered the permafrost. Beneath it lay a bed of dry, reddish-brown Frostfire Moss. Within minutes, using a sharp rock and a piece of flint from Mason's torn boot, a tiny, miraculous flame flickered to life.

We huddled around the meager warmth under a makeshift shelter of torn furs. Finn, who had been scouting the perimeter, returned clutching a tiny handful of forgotten pine nuts he’d scavenged from a hollowed tree.

Pack instinct immediately took over. Mason cracked the largest nut with a stone and, alongside Catherine, pressed it to my lips. They were starving, their bodies eating themselves alive, yet they offered their salvation to the weakest link.

Tears pricked my eyes. I swallowed the rich, oily meat, letting the warmth of their devotion settle in my chest. Then, I reached out and took the rest of the handful from Mason.

They watched in confusion as I stood up. I didn't eat another bite. Instead, I shoved a nut into Catherine’s cracked lips, then Mason’s, then Finn’s. Finally, I knelt before Arthur. My father was still staring blankly at the snow, a broken Alpha waiting for death. I grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth open, and shoved the last nut inside.

"Chew," I commanded, my voice slicing through the howling wind. I looked at each of them, my gaze unyielding. "Eat it. All of you. We survive together, or we die together."

Silence fell over the camp. The pity in their eyes vanished, replaced by a flickering, desperate trust. I was no longer just the fragile *wolfless* pup; I was the tether keeping them anchored to the living.

But our fragile victory was short-lived.

A deep, guttural snarl echoed through the trees, followed by the heavy crunch of boots. Massive shadows emerged from the blizzard, their eyes glowing with predatory malice. A border patrol. Before we could even stand, rough hands hauled us up from the snow, dragging us toward the looming, jagged walls of the Black Moon Outpost.