The Luna

Twelve

It's hard not to feel like a rag doll being passed around from owner to owner. 

Guards to Caspian.
Caspian to guards.
Back to Caspian and now, Atticus.  

I wait to feel some sort of relief at having him here, but between my frustration and the fact that I just saw his son basically being ripped apart, all I feel is the same anxious intimidation I always feel. But I don't want to be rude. I don't want to see Atticus ripped apart in the same horrifying way that his son had been. 

Slowly, I place my hand in Atticus' outstretched elbow and he smiles like the cat that got the canary. The guards bow as he leads us out of Caspian's office and down towards the next large door.

"You seem troubled today, Luna," Atticus says finally as he opens the door, gesturing for me to step into the room.

My eyes sweep over the office in front of me. So similar to Caspian's except for the portrait above the desk. Instead of one painting, there are two, both of equal size and framed in detailed black wooden frames.

Atticus sits in front of two people, similar to the pose of Caspians portrait, but an unfamiliar man and woman stand behind him. His parents I guess, looking at some of the similarites in the stern-looking man and Atticus. In the next painting, Atticus stands with his arm around Adelaide's shoulder, a tiny white bundle in her arms and proud smiles on both their faces.

"Caspian and I argued," I say numbly looking at the paintings a moment longer before turning to watch Atticus cross the room to his desk.

"Yes, I heard the end of it," he nods, sitting a large burgundy leather chair, gesturing for me to have a seat, "I'm sorry about that,"

"It's not your fault," I say automatically. No one should apologize for something that isn't their fault, though knowing that doesn't stop me from still doing it when the roles are reversed.

The sentiment, however, felt hollow coming from Atticus, just like my response back. More like small talk, when someone says 'Good Morning' and you instinctively respond with the same. It'd be rude to completely ignore the person, but they're just being polite in the first place. 

Is that what's happening or have I let a small fluke of encounter with that wolf get to me? 

Atticus folds his hands on the table, watching me like he's trying to guess what's in my head. I wonder what my face shows? Does he see my frustration?

I wonder, if I were to lay it all out for him, would he take my side? Would he comfort me and tell me that Caspian needs to sit and explain it all to me? Or is the Luna purposely kept in the dark because she is always human? Perhaps they believe that because I am not like them, I won't be able to understand their ways.

But if they would just explain them to me - they would see that I can understand! I mean I accepted that Caspian was a wolf without a freakout - isn't that understanding?!

"He won't tell me anything other than, 'I'm important'," my voice deepens at the end in a mock of Caspian's voice, though I'm nowhere close to what he actually sounds like.

I flop into the waiting chair like a stubborn toddler who just been told No. It's just one of the many problems to have, but I guess it's as good a place as any to start. Maybe Atticus will give me at least some answers, enough so that I don't have to question everything for a double meaning - or wonder what a stranger in the woods would be up to.

"I see, but Amelia, he's not wrong. You are not only very important to Caspian but to the pack," he says simply and I can feel my brows dipping in frustration.