A Wolf Story solo

July 16th

A thin layer of mist hung over the dew-wet earth. The forest received Meyra and her mother in an almost omniscient silence. Only the light breeze of the summer morning blew through the leaves of the tall trees, making their branches sway lazily in the wind. The timid rays of sunlight barely managed to penetrate the canopies of the sea of ​​pines that lined the path. Meyra had the feeling that this forest was very old and had already witnessed much of the world.

The sound of her clothes rustling against the bushes and tall grass, and the sound of her footsteps, which often encountered a twig or two along the way, were the loudest sounds that could be heard in the vicinity. Her mother walked ahead of her, calm but determined, as if she knew that path like the back of her hand. Meyra recognized that that was probably true, how many times had her mother walked that path in the past? It was as if the past and present of the same person walked before her, someone she knew intimately and someone she had just met and about whom there was still so much to discover.

As she walked, Meyra's thoughts drifted to Rodney Lancaster, the only father she had ever known and the only one who occupied that place in her heart. The day before, he had come to sit beside her on the park bench next to the small artificial lake that decorated the garden of their home. Meyra had been there thinking about everything that awaited her the next day, getting to know Moray and the werewolf community where he lived and had founded alongside her mother more than a decade ago. The curtain had fallen, and she could finally learn that side of her story. But the feeling was both sweet and bitter, and she was still learning to cope with it all. She was still searching for the exact place to put her feelings, and what she truly felt about all of this changes about to come.

But Rodney, as always, had been able to reassure her and transmit that serene courage that always emanated from him. He had been able to eliminate one of the great fears that had been weighing on her heart since the moment she decided to take the initiative to read that letter, the fear of losing a family she loved very much in exchange for meeting someone who, deep down, didn't mean much to her, even though there were blood ties that bound them together. But in Rodney's tight embrace, Meyra found her home, the place she knew she could always return to. And nothing, no one, would ever be able to break what united them as father and daughter. “Don’t be silly, Mey,” Rodney had whispered to the strands of hair on the top of her head, before kissing her there, “You’ll always be my little girl.”

Remembering his voice at that moment calmed the anxiety growing in her chest as she and her mother approached the passage to the Full Moon Community. According to her mother, it was a passage that cut through under the mountain, a kind of cave naturally carved into the rock. Harumi paused her walk beside one of the mountain's high rock walls and turned to Meyra with a small smile on her lips, "This is the passage I told you about. Someone looking for it but not knowing the exact location will never find it." Harumi looked at her with interest, tilting her head slightly to the side as if asking a silent question.

Meyra looked at her mother, unable to understand what she was trying to say. Looking at the side of the mountain, she couldn't see any opening as she had described, only rock, earth, bushes, and trees that grew climbing and forming a dense vertical forest. "What...?" Mey asked, confused, still trying to find something that resembled the description she had been given. “Here,” Harumi held out a small piece of parchment to her, Meyra’s gaze shifting from the mountain to look back at her mother. Still not understanding what was happening, Mey took the parchment her mom had given her and unfolded it.

She immediately recognized the handwriting, after so many months reading the letter Moray had written to her mother. It was a short phrase that simply stated that the entrance was near the beautiful Myrtus Communis L. Mey looked at her mother, her expression clearly showing her doubts. But she didn't get to formulate her question, because her gaze met the bush with small white flowers as soon as she lifted it from the piece of parchment in her hands. And there it was, beside it, an opening in the mountain, a crevice that could easily fit one person at a time if they wanted to enter.

Meyra saw her mother illuminate her wand and then she did the same, “Lumos.” She murmured to her laurel wood wand, and the path became clearer before her. The cave was wide and dark, enveloped in a twilight broken only by the faint light that streamed through its narrow entrance. For the first few meters, the rocky walls closed in on Meyra and Harumi, damp and cold, while the sound of a stream of water echoed through the depths. But it was enough to advance a little further for the darkness to give way to an almost paradisiacal view.

High above, the interior of the mountain opened into a huge cavity, allowing a waterfall to descend from the heights, spilling between the rocks and falling into a circle of dark, icy water. Meyra wondered how deep that lake was. Looking up, very high, it was possible to see the torrent of water falling, leaving almost no space for the sky to be glimpsed. However, for a few moments, Meyra would have sworn to have seen a distorted shadow hovering over the mountain. The force of the fall caused the lake's surface to tremble constantly, while a thin mist of droplets hung in the air, covering everything around it. From that lake sprang a small stream that meandered across the cave floor, carving its way through the rocks to the other side of the cave.

All around, the irregular stone walls were covered in thick layers of moss, vines, and small plants that grew between the cracks, nourished by the constant moisture. Green spread everywhere, descending the stones and invading the banks of the lake and stream. The spell on their wands had been replaced in the meantime. Instead of the small focus of light that had accompanied them until then, two umbrellas now extended from their tips, opening above their heads and protecting them from the rain falling from above. Still, they were not enough to keep them completely dry. The waterfall plunged with such force that a fine rain of particles continuously spread through the air, covering their faces and clothes with small, icy droplets. "This is so beautiful, mom!" Meyra commented, her voice filled with admiration for the natural beauty before her.

“According to the ancient inhabitants of this region, this place was once used for magical practices when the world was less complicated and there was less secrecy and separation between the magical world and the Muggle world,” Harumi recounted as she continued walking along the rocky bank near the lake. Meyra followed closely, carefully so as not to slip and fall onto the treacherous surface. She could imagine that it would probably be much easier to walk there if she were in her wolf's form, a more agile body capable of avoiding some particularly difficult places.

“Further ahead, you will be able to see the ruins of a building.” Harumi continued, “The date of its construction is unknown, but judging by the architecture, it must belong to the Middle Ages or a period adjacent to it. It is believed to have been an ancient sanctuary where people came to ask for blessings. Obviously, those who came to ask for such things were mostly non-magical people, and those who listened to them, and often profited from it, were wizards and witches, who, when they felt like it, agreed to help them. They were the so-called druids and priestesses.” Harumi looked back at her daughter over her shoulder, “You’ve studied this, right?” she asked her daughter.

Meyra nodded slightly, “Yes.” she replied. She vaguely remembered her History of Magic classes, reading about the time when the magical world and the Muggle world coexisted daily. Obviously, she didn’t remember all the details, but that mythical class about King Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana had stuck in her memory. And, as promised, as they circled the lake and now walked alongside the stream that flowed from it, the ruin became visible. It was an ancient structure of dark stone, worn by time, sparsely covered by a thin layer of moss. Gothic columns arched and supported what remained of the old building. The arch in the center was tall and narrow, decorated with a stained-glass window. The stained-glass window was practically destroyed, only small fragments remained clinging to the stone. It was impossible to decipher what had once been depicted in it.

Meyra felt in awe of that image and place. There was something so captivating about it that even she couldn't explain. It was all that beauty and historical symbolism. A place so unusual, old and, at the same time, charged with a strangely invigorating energy that conveyed an almost supernatural tranquility. Meyra understood why her parents had chosen that location to build their small inn and retreat in nature. Anyone visiting that place could not help but feel welcomed by the natural and spiritual atmosphere that permeates that forest born between mountains and amazing waterfalls.

Harumi now stood beside the column that divided the central arch in half, forming two smaller arches beneath what had once been the large stained-glass window. The tips of her fingers touched the stone in a caress, and her gaze was filled with sadness and deep thoughts. As if whatever she remembered brought her a feeling that was both warm and painful. She had decided to join her mother, looking at the spot where she touched the rough, worn stone of the ancient monument. Embedded there were two initials, an H and an M. Mey looked at her mother, one eyebrow slightly raised, not quite knowing what to say or feel at seeing that carved there. Not that she didn't know what it felt like to have someone so important in her life, someone who had made her heart know new feelings, and then those same feelings had been lost amidst everything else. She had lost count of how many times she had awkwardly written and decorated the initials M and D in her notebooks…

But her and Dennis's story didn't even match the story of her mother and Moray. Meyra couldn't even imagine how deep the feelings her parents had shared must have been. It was a story of years, of much love and conflict, of creation and loss. "These initials were written here when we first found this place," Harumi said, her voice calm and with a small, sad smile of someone telling a cherished story lost in time, "We should have recognized that writing them on a ruin could bring a bad omen. Or that it was already a sign of the future." Meyra heard her mother give a small laugh that didn't contain true joy, more of a resignation and recognition of yet another irony of life. "At least we had a blessing," Harumi finished, turning to Mey and giving her cheek a light caress. "Let's go, Mey." She said, before continuing on her way, following the stream.

For the lore: @Colin McCoire | @AngelFyre McCubbin | @Jun Mayumi Mochizuki | @Lily Isobel McCoire

The next part is coming...

Meyra felt a shiver run down her spine as she and her mother emerged from the mountain's depths and finally crossed the threshold into the fresh forest air that awaited them. Meyra's eyes immediately fell on the wooden building before her. Amidst the tall trees, rocks, and waterfalls, stood the inn she had heard about, the beginning of it all, of her life and the history of that place.

It wasn't a single building, but several, linked together by wooden walkways suspended over the cascading water that flowed through the vegetation, forming streams and lakes along its path down the mountain. As if several branches had sprouted from the main building as space became scarce with the growth of the community, Meyra deduced that this was the explanation for the construction. A building that grew, welcoming not only those who sought shelter but also embracing nature itself, growing around it and not seeking to transform it in its own way.

Meyra continued following her mother, climbing the stone staircase that snaked uphill towards the main building of the inn. Small lanterns were scattered along the steps, illuminating the path. Before reaching the top, the staircase opened into a plaza that housed a garden fireplace, several comfortable seats surrounding it, and a sort of bar. Behind the counter, a woman, about her mother's age, seemed to be preparing some herbal drink, the scent of aromatic herbs and sweets wafted into Meyra's nostrils as soon as she approached. There was another person, a young woman with pink hair who spoke cheerfully, seemingly telling something particularly exciting to the woman serving her.

The conversation ceased, however, when the woman at the counter gave a slight nod in the direction of Meyra and her mother. The young woman with pink hair turned on the high stool where she was sitting and smiled broadly at the two visitors. “Harumi.” Greeted the woman with long black hair braided in dreadlocks that reached almost to her waist, while sliding a mug towards her only customer. Her gaze was intense and striking, in a golden amber tone that contrasted with her dark brown skin. A thin scar ran across the left side of her face, passing over her eyebrow and descending towards her cheekbones. Meyra didn't need to think much to understand the origin of such a mark on the beautiful woman's face.

“Yvaine.” Meyra heard her mother say in response. Harumi approached the bar, a growing smile on her lips illuminating her face. “Merlin, how long?” Yvaine exclaimed, lifting the small door onto the counter and welcoming Meyra's mother into a tight hug, “Where in the hell have you been?” She asked her, pulling away slightly from her embrace to look at Harumi's face. Her gaze met Meyra's then, who looked at both of them with surprise despite the small smile that played on her lips. Throughout her life, Meyra couldn't remember ever having met a friend of her mother's, apart from Aunt Reina and Aunt Chiyo. Only with them had Meyra witnessed genuine hugs and smiles, apart from them, Harumi had always been reserved, measured, and cautious with her emotions around others. She would never hug a stranger like that.

“Is it her?” Yvaine asked, looking again at Harumi, her gaze now showing a warm calmness, a barely concealed emotion. Meyra saw her mother nod in confirmation and move aside so Yvaine could look more clearly at Mey. “She looks exactly like you back then,” Yvaine said with a small laugh, her amber eyes now seeming even more vivid, “But you have your father’s spirit in your eyes.” She said now directly to the young Gryffindor.

“Yvaine.” She introduced herself, extending her hand to Meyra. Mey shook her hand, feeling intimidated by the woman but at the same time unusually welcomed by the way she was looking at her. “Meyra,” she replied, looking between Yvaine and her mother, silently asking them a question. “We met when I started working here, a decade ago. I was perhaps one of the first werewolves to settle here, back when the place wasn't specifically designated for people of our kind. But it quickly became my home thanks to your mother and…well…your father.” Yvaine told her, understanding the girl's questioning look. Her expression had become a little sad, not openly, but Meyra noticed how the corner of her eyes softened when she mentioned her father.

Meyra smiled at Yvaine however. She realised that there were people there who had witnessed everything that had happened and, although there were no blood ties, there were others no less strong or important who had drifted away, perhaps broken, perhaps…many other things. In Yvaine's case, it was noticeable how Harumi's absence had marked her, there was a warm presence in the woman's eyes, of someone who had lost and found someone very dear, and to who was now reunited as Harumi returned to what used to be her home.

This thought and recognition brought a sense of comfort and joy to Meyra’s heart. After all, that place wasn't just a place that brought a feeling of sorrow and loss to her mother, there were people there who still remembered her fondly, there was friendship, there was a family that Mey hadn't even started to imagine she had or that it even existed. Yvaine had brought her that at that moment, the idea of ​​facing everything from a different perspective. After all, Harumi had been responsible for the existence of all that, but she hadn't done it alone, neither she nor Moray. And suddenly, the young Gryffindor began to feel a pang of that feeling that Moray had implied in his letter, that there, she could truly find her own place, a place that embraced her and didn't look at her with uncertainty, reservations, and disdain.

Mey immediately thought of Jun. How would her cousin feel visiting that place? She knew that Jun harbored an even deeper resentment than Mey did after that night when they had both been cursed. Something inside Mey told her that her best friend would have even greater reservations about that community. Not because of the people they might meet there, but because of what she hadn't yet accepted about herself. But perhaps time was the only right and necessary answer. To give time to time. She herself was still there with many doubts, not wanting to be dazzled by the beauty of everything she had witnessed in that place so far. But the way she saw her mother being received by Yvaine, how Harumi's face lit up when she saw her old friend… it had somehow broken down some of her uncertainties, uncertainties for which she hadn't even found a name yet.

“Well, since nobody asked me…” Meyra heard the pink-haired girl say. She approached the group, holding the mug of steaming aromatic drink in both hands, “I’m Twila, Twila Voss.” She said with a small, sly smile that perfectly matched her rebellious appearance and demeanor. “I’m one of the Sanctuary guards.” She scoffed softly at her own introduction, “I know I don’t look the part, but I swear I can turn you into a frog if I want” She finished with a wry smile and a wink. Twila wore her hair tied in a high ponytail, revealing a shaved section on the side, with loose strands falling to the side of her face, framing it and making her sapphire blue eyes even more vibrant. Meyra noticed that, like Yvaine, Twila had a scar on her face, in her case, it was on her left cheek, cutting below her eye. Meyra found herself immediately liking the lively young woman, not being able to suppress the small laugh Twila had stolen from her at that.

“Twila is relatively new here, she wasn’t around when you left,” Yvaine told Harumi. “You better keep going, I know he is waiting for both of you.” Yvaine continued looking from Harumi to Meyra, “I can’t wait to know more of you, I hope you’ll stay with us more often after today.” Then she turned her gaze back to Harumi, “Same for you, please don’t disappear again, old friend.” “We will see…” Harumi replied, lightly squeezing Yvaine’s shoulder and letting her hand fall to her side, “Let’s go.” She said, gesturing to Meyra for them both to continue their way up the stairs.

As Meyra and her mother continued their ascent up the stone steps, other sounds invaded her senses. The sound of the large waterfall cascading behind the inn became increasingly present as they reached the building’s entrance. Meyra couldn’t resist taking in the landscape that unfolded around the terrace parapet that greeted them. What her eyes found was an image of immense natural beauty, a scene worthy of an elven and fairy tale. The enormous waterfall cascaded down the slope, disappearing among the rocks and verdant foliage. In the distance, Mey could hear several enthusiastic voices, but what they were saying was indecipherable even to her slightly more acute hearing. From the sounds they made, they seemed to be a group of children or teenagers playing in the river or lake that formed further ahead. But it was impossible to see who they were, the density of the forest and the height of the inn prevented her from seeing very far.

"Mey," She heard her mother call and turned again to face the entrance of the inn, which now appeared before them both. It was a wide wooden veranda sheltered under a roof that projected beyond the facade. The walls, the floor, the beams that supported the roof, were all made of the same dark wood. Small plants and pots of different sizes were scattered along the walls and windows, windows that reflected the nearest trees surrounding the inn. There were several sofas and armchairs where people could sit and enjoy the tranquility of the place and the beauty of the landscape. The sofas were long, made of wood and stone, covered with cushions in dark, earthy tones. Next to the seats were tables decorated with small lanterns.

Meyra followed her mother, finally entering through the large glass doors that led inside the inn. Inside, the high ceiling was constructed of the same dark wooden beams. On the walls, there were several lanterns hanging, waiting for night to fall. In the center was a large iron lamp that would illuminate the hall almost by itself. A large dark blue carpet stretched across the floor, decorated with stars and a full moon in the center, outlining the front of the inn's counter. The counter was made of wood that looked aged and on top of it was an open book, as if waiting for the next guest's signature, a quill pen dipped in a bottle of dark ink, and some ceramic decorations. On the wall behind the counter was a banner displayed with the inn's name, Full Moon Inn.

Harumi turned left, and Meyra did the same. The feeling of awe that had followed her there almost vanished in the brief instant when her gaze met the presence of the two men who were now standing in front of them. There, next to the armchairs in the same shades as those on the veranda outside, was the tall, lean man with almost silver-blond hair, the same man who had warned her family about the werewolf pack attack, the same man who had delivered Moray's letter to her mother. Unlike in both of those situations, today Meyra knew who he was. Lewis McCoire, father of Colin and Liam. The resemblance was now too obvious, which is why he had always seemed familiar to the young Gryffindor, even if she hadn't come to the conclusion of who he really was on her own.

And next to him was another man. Meyra's heart raced, as if she had finally woken up and remembered the real reason she was there. He was equally tall, but not as tall as his brother, a few centimeters separated their heights. His shoulders were also broader, although his stature was not much more corpulent than Lewis's. His hair was worn loose, in a dark brown shade and wavy, reaching his shoulders. It was his eyes that made Meyra certain of who he was. In them, she found the same emerald-green color, streaked with amber, that was in hers. Moray was looking at her as if he had fallen victim to a paralysis spell.

Meyra felt her pulse quicken, her head felt light as if she wasn't quite present at that moment. Her hands were clenched into two fists close to her sides as if unconsciously holding herself and pulling her so that her feet continued to feel that they were stepping on the solid ground. For a few seconds no one spoke, seconds that seemed like minutes to young Meyra. "Lewis..." The silence was finally broken by her mother's voice, "Moray." Harumi greeted them politely, remaining serene, with her back straight and her hands clasped in front of her in a formal, but not severe, posture. "Welcome." Lewis replied, but Moray was still silent, staring at Meyra. "Thank you, Lewis." Harumi said with a small smile that contained no joy, only another gesture of good manners.

Meyra felt her mother's arm wrap around her shoulders, her other hand holding her arm in an affectionate and encouraging way. "This is your Uncle Lewis," she told her, not knowing that Mey had already come to that conclusion, "I think some of his children study at Hogwarts with you, and one of them is one of your professors...Astonomy, if I’m not mistaken?" Mey looked at her mother, who returned her gaze warmly. Looking at Lewis now, Mey addressed him shyly, as if her voice was returning softly, "Nice to meet you... Uncle Lewis." The man smiled at her, and Mey couldn't help but see Liam's smile in his adult version.

"And…" Harumi paused, as if searching for the right intonation for her words. Meyra felt her mother's fingers tighten on her shoulders and then relax again, "This is Moray, your father, Mey." She finally said, in a soft, slow voice covered in love for her daughter. In a tone that told her they were there together and that this was a safe place, Moray was someone her mother trusted despite all the past history between them. Moray finally broke his gaze from Meyra and calmly turned it to Harumi. What Meyra saw in that look caught her out guard, something that made her stomach churn in recognition of the moment. There was a mixture of longing and hurt in them, a mixture of affection and something more tender, more fragile.

“Harumi.” Finally, her father spoke. His voice was clear and reassuring, although a certain restraint was perceptible in it. “I didn’t expect you to listen to the letter I wrote you, but I’m glad I kept hoping to see you again.” He told her, the corners of his lips tugging slightly in a calm smile but full of sad unspoken emotions. But again, he turned to Meyra, his smile becoming more hopeful and less heavy with sorrow, “Meyra…” He began, shaking his head slightly as if not believing that she was actually there in front of him, his eyes became brighter as he spoke to her, “You are as beautiful as your mother was when I met her.” He took a step forward toward his daughter, but stopped, as if giving her the choice of whether or not to approach.

Mey looked up, to the side where her mother was standing beside her, as if asking for permission or advice. It was difficult to manage all of that, all those feelings that had taken hold within her. In response, Harumi gently pushed her forward, encouraging her to go to him and letting her hands fall from her daughter's shoulders. Meyra then looked at Moray again, and, swallowing hard, decided to take a step toward him. She saw him approach, and suddenly, it was his arms that enveloped her in a tight embrace. Mey didn't know what to do, whether she should hug him back or simply stand there, paralyzed. It was the soft sound of an almost silent cry that finally made her hands move, enveloping her arms around his waist.

It felt right, but at the same time, she felt weird and somehow out of place, for not being able to completely retribute the sentiment. Was she being insensitive? Or was something inside her that was that deeply broken that she couldn’t share a tear at that moment? She was sure that was one of those moments if they were to be written in a book or a song they would be described with many tears being shared and hearts being mended. She felt nothing of sorts. When Moray softly pulled her from their hug and met her with bright green eyes, Meyra was silent as if her brain wasn’t able to process it all and properly respond to the moment. Moray held her face between both his hands as if he was holding the most precious thing in the whole world, the warm, caring smile that illuminated his entire being met her heart with no similar empathy even if she understood why he felt like that, “Welcome home my little light, I’ve been missing you in all this darkness.”
For the lore: @Colin McCoire | @AngelFyre McCubbin | @Jun Mayumi Mochizuki | @Lily Isobel McCoire

Note: Meyra means light!