Reclaiming My Broken Luna (Astrid and Killian) novel Chapter 135

Astrid’s POV

I stood in front of the bustling camp, my keen eyes sweeping over the sea of weary and haggard faces of the remaining survivors of the Emberwood Pack. My heart clenched tightly for them as I saw their pitiful situation.

What happened to the Emberwood Pack was worse than what Alpha Theron had told me. Their Pack, which was once bustling with joy and life, was completely destroyed. All that was left were ruins and rubble.

You wouldn’t think that a community filled with life used to stand there just a few days ago. Everything changed just within a single night. I could still feel the terror that all the remaining survivors had felt from the tragedy that overtook them.

As I helped with distributing the food and the supplies that they needed, it did nothing to their faces, which had turned dim, and to their eyes, which had already lost the light in them.

These were the remnants of the Emberwood Pack, the survivors of a tragedy that no one should ever have to endure.

As I moved among them, I felt the weight of their suffering pressing against my own soul.

The anguish etched into their features, the hollowness in their eyes — it was a sight that would forever be seared into my memory.

As I took another supply pack to distribute, I noticed a young pup, his tiny frame trembling with barely suppressed terror.

I rushed towards him and softly extended my hand to coax the little child to accept my offering of sustenance and comfort.

The pup’s eyes, wide and haunted, slowly lifted to meet mine, and at that moment, I felt a sense of protection over him and also a shared pain for this little boy.

This little boy is just one of the members of the Emberwood Pack who had lost everything within a single night.

Just earlier, I talked with a group of elders who also stopped being defeated, just like the other remaining survivors. I listened intently as they recounted the horrific events that destroyed their Pack. Their small voices were trembling with a mix of grief and disbelief.

No matter how much I felt bad for them. No matter how much I want to lessen their pain, I can only listen to them with a heart that also aches for them.

And then there were the injured; their critical wounds just showed the brutality they had endured at the hands of the rogues.

I worked tirelessly, my nimble fingers deftly tending to their ailments. Just my presence helps soothe their tortured bodies and spirits.