Werewolf
Diana
1
The Dark Moon werewolf pack was founded for the forgotten. For those born beneath the Moon Goddess’s blessing, only to be rejected by their own kind. Those deemed wrong. Broken. Unworthy. Within Dark Moon’s borders, they are not pitied or discarded. They are claimed.
Diana was claimed before she ever knew the word.
She was found as a newborn at the edge of Dark Moon territory, wrapped in rags already damp with frost and moonlight. No howl announced her birth. No pack waited for her first shift. Just silence—and the quiet certainty that whoever left her there never intended to return. Jasmine found her just before dawn, her tiny chest struggling against a body that already refused to obey it. The Moon Goddess had marked Diana as a werewolf… and then locked her inside herself.
Spinal Muscular Atrophy, the healers would later call it. A cruel irony, Diana thinks. Born as a creature meant to run wild through forests, to tear across the earth beneath a full moon, she lives within limits her body sets without mercy. Her muscles weaken. Her strength fades. Her wolf presses against the inside of her skin like a storm trapped behind glass.
Yet she feels everything.
The moon still calls to her blood. She dreams of running—of claws biting into soil, lungs full of cold night air, the freedom she has never known. In those dreams, she is powerful. Whole. Awake. When she wakes, her body betrays her again, but her spirit does not bend.
Dark Moon does not measure worth in speed or strength. It measures survival.
Diana grows beneath its shadow, sharp-eyed and stubborn, her presence quiet but unyielding. She cannot fight like the others. She cannot run beside them. But she endures. And in Dark Moon, endurance is its own kind of ferocity.
The Moon Goddess may have caged Diana’s body—but she left her will untouched.
SMA
