A/N: It's probably stupid of me to start another story, but I've been wanting to write this for a long time, so I will. This is my first DN fic; my first Tamora Pierce fic actually, and my first time writing a fic in first person, so please let me know if anything is off.

To sum it all up, Wolf Moon (the title has nothing to do with the story, by the way) is basically just a story of Daine and Numair if they had had an arranged marriage (yes, it is DN, even if it might not seem so on the beginning). I have changed some things, such as the age gap between the two. Numair may seem a little OOC in the beginning, but keep in mind that this is in his University days, so he's not as mature as in the books. Now, enough of my rambling. Please R&R!!

Disclaimer: The characters and places belong to Tamora Pierce, with the rare exception of the ones I've made up my self.

Chap. 1: Prologue

In one hand I carried a pail of goat milk; in the other a basket of eggs. A grey cape blew behind me in the icy wind as I made my way up the steps, beneath a large sign that read 'Keefe Inn' in fading golden letters. I pushed the door open with my shoulder, welcoming the warmth that immediately engulfed me. Sighing, I let the hood drop away from my head as I scanned the room quickly with my stormy blue-grey orbs. In the far left corner sat a man in a cloak that obscured eyes, lifting a tankard of ale to his lips. I didn't need to see his face to know he was drunk; with my sensitive sense of smell, I could easily pick up his disgusting odor. I should have been used to it by now. It wasn't like we didn't get drunks here on a daily bases. Wrinkling my nose a little, I made my way to the staircase at the far end of the room, and quickly climbed it. The second floor was a long hall with about 15 different doors, all leading to small rooms with a single bed. I knew. I had to clean every one of those rooms each morning.

I climbed another set of stairs to the third floor, making my way to a room at the far end of the hall. From under the door I could hear excited mummers of hushed voices and see the soft flicker of candle light. I silently made my way into the room.

"--Be stinkin' rich! I told you she would be good for something," said my adopted father Rocco, beaming around at his company of three.

"Who will be good for what?" I asked, closing the door behind me. Four pairs of eyes turned to stare at me and the happy giggling of my adopted mother, aunt and sister died down. Obviously they hadn't heard me enter.

"Who will be good for what?" I repeated when they failed to answer me. Chloris, my adopted aunt, pushed her chair back hard enough that it made a screeching noise and was sure to leave scratches in the hard wood floor. She made her way over to me, grinning widely, arms spread out.

"Congratulations Daine," she said, wrapping her immense arms around me, effectively squashing all the air from my lungs, her watery blue eyes sparkling happily. "We are so proud of you, Darling."

"What?" I asked, thoroughly confused. Rocco came to pat me happily on the head, as if I was some dog. The resemblance between him and Chloris was almost unnerving; he had the same limp, dirty blond hair, watery eyes and incredible size.

"Good girl," he said, ruffling my smoky brown curls affectionately. I dropped my basket of eggs on the ground, praying none of them would break, and shoved their hands away gently.

"What is going on?" I directed my question at my adopted mother Julian. If anyone was going tell me it would her. She was a 'no-funny business' kind of person, and it showed. Her nose was straight, and slightly hooked with the resembled a hawk's beak and her crisp, black mane was always tied neatly behind her head, making her hard, green eyes stand out even more against her pale skin. Without a word, she lifted a piece of yellow parchment. Placing my pail carefully on the floor, I took it and stared at it blankly. It was a letter addressed to me, that much I could figure out, but could only guess what the rest of it said. I handed it back to her.

"I can't read," I reminded her. She sighed, annoyed.

"You've been offered marriage to a rich Carthaki noble man," said Kayla, my adopted sister. Her hazel green eyes were glued to the floor, her pale brown hair fell in a curtain around her heart-shaped face and her voice was so quiet that I could barely make out the words, but she might as well have screamed them in my face. I felt like someone had hit me in the stomach with club. I gasped for air, utterly horrified. I knew without a doubt they would send me. I wasn't worth much to them. I was just a bastard girl from Snowdale with a knack with animals, so why any Carthaki noble man would want to marry me was beyond me.

"Are you sure?" I knew it was pointless, but I had to ask all the same.

"Yes, oh yes! Isn't it delightful, Darling?" I was once more enveloped in a strangling hug.

"Mithros. I can't believe it," I whispered.

"Oh, I know exactly how you feel, Sweetheart. This is so exciting!" Chloris said, clearly misinterpreting my words. Julian rose, draping her long fingers over my shoulder and steered me firmly towards the door.

"I think it's time Daine got to bed. After all, tomorrow is going to be a big day." Tomorrow. Where they really going to send me off that soon? Did I really have no say in my own future? Hanging my head, I let her lead me down the hall to my room. I could put up a fight, be stubborn, stomp my feet and tell them 'I won't go'. I could throw a tantrum and stay locked in my room for days on end, but I knew it would help all the same. I would go to Carthak on my own two feet, or I would be dragged. The choice was mine.

Julian stopped when we reached the door, and turned me to face her. Drawing a deep breath, she said, "Listen, Daine, I know this can't be easy for you. I know you don't want to be married off. But you know the financial state of things here. We need all the money we can get. I'm sure it won't be so bad. Just stop and think about it for a moment." I didn't want to think about it. If I did I was afraid I might hurl. "He's a rich noble man. A noble man! For him to marry a peasant girl..." She trailed off, shaking her head a little in awe. "I will be proud to tell anyone that my daughter has made such a good marriage. And you should be proud too." She smiled warmly and gently kissed my cheek, then walked away. How she had ever ended up making such a bad marriage I never did understand. She was beautiful and intelligent, if slightly cold at times. Surely someone much more handsome could have stolen her heart than some fat, slightly retarded inn keeper. But then, perhaps him being an inn keeper was what had caused her to marry him. After all, most inn keepers in Cria were fairly wealthy. The Keefe family inn was indeed an exception.

I entered my small room, glancing around as I tried to spot my night cloths. My room was small, not much more than a broom cupboard, really. Spread diagonally across the floor was a wool blanket that served as a mattress; along the back wall was a window that offered a view over the forest that covered the outskirts of the property. It was almost dark out, and the sky was stormy tonight. I loved storms. There was something powerful and free that seemed to rule them, something that could bring a grown man to his knees. An army of grown men. If only I could do that. If only I were free and wild, I wouldn't have to worry about being married off.

Well, it's not the worst thing that could happen, is it? I told my self as I stripped off my clothes and pulled on an over sized night shirt. No. The worst thing that could happen had already happened three years ago. That was why I was at Keefe Inn in the first place.

Don't think about that now. Not now. Don't cry. Please don't cry, I willed myself, but the tears came, hot and fast, whether I wanted them to or not. Just like so much else in life.

I twisted a blade of grass nervously between my fingers as I waited. On my left was a trunk stashed with my few belongings, the only ones I would bring with me as I entered my 'new life' as Chloris had taken to calling my arranged marriage. On my right sat Kayla, eyes glued to the ground, silent as always, yet loyal all the same. She was one of the few people I would miss here, I thought, tucking a strand of stray hair behind my ear, thinking hard. She was also the only one who had read the letter, was the only one who could read at all in the family, so perhaps she held the answers to some of the many questions that swirled madly around my head. Like what the name of the man I would be marrying was, for starters. So that was what I asked first.

"His name..." She trailed off. She was a seemingly timid girl of few words, and she spoke in a low, monotonous voice. "Numair Salmalín," she said finally.

"Numair Salmalín," I repeated, rolling the words around in my mouth, feeling as they escaped my lips and listing to them as they pieced the silence. It sounded exotic, foreign, like some extravagant spice.

I turned toward Kayla again. "Does it say how old he is?" I asked, yet not really sure if I wanted to know. What if he was in his fifties? Or sixties even? I was only sixteen myself, but it wasn't unheard of that noble women of fourteen married sixty year old men, disgusting as I found it. But then, of course, I wasn't a noble women. Perhaps they viewed things differently.

"Twenty two."

"So he's—," I did the math, feeling slightly embarrassed that, do to my lack of schooling, I had to count the numbers off on my fingers. "--six years older than me." Well that wasn't as bad as I had expected. In fact, that wasn't so bad at all. I heaved a sigh of relief before starting my interrogation again.

"What does he look like?"

Kayla shot me one of those rare looks where she actually meets your eyes without flinching. "They didn't include a physical description in the letter Daine."

"Right." I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. "Does it say why they want me to marry him?" That question had been nagging at the back of my mind all night while I tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep.

Kayla sighed. "They write that they have heard of your unusual magic."

I snorted loudly. "Well there in for a disappointment then, aren't they? Paying all that money to have me shipped over only to find that there's not of trace of magic in me," I said triumphantly. It wasn't the first time someone had assumed I had magic. My mother, for one, had tested me again and again, trying to find even a speck of the gift that she had. But I was empty as a dried up well. Only, there had never been magic in me in the first place. I just had a knack with animals. That was it. End of story.

"Don't you suppose maybe you do have some kind of gift? I mean, how many people do you think can understand what animals say? I've never heard of anyone that could."

I was shocked that Kayla had said so much all at once, holding my gaze with hers the whole time, too, and for a moment I was too stunned to speak. Then I suddenly leaped to my feet, angry now. "How many times do you have to hear it Kayla? I just have a knack with animals is all. Besides, having animals crawl into your bed at night is hardly something very magical. My blanket can consent to that. Now, if I could make the hair and dung and smell leave the blanket after the animals have been on it, that would be true, useful magic," I said angrily. She didn't know how my 'knack' had affected me after the villagers had tried to kill me. She didn't know how I had run on four legs, naked, hunting with the pack, all sense of reason gone with only instinct to guide me. She had no clue how I had ended up a bloody mess on the trail where she had eventually found me. And I had no intention of telling her. Telling her how I had gone insane. How I still forgot I was human when the pack called to the moon or the deer galloped through the woods. No one would ever know.

Kayla had disappeared inside her shell again; was staring at the ground with a veil of hair blocking her face from view, and I felt a little guilty for having caused that reaction.

"Do the others know? Know that I'm wanted for my non-existing magic?"

Kayla nodded.

"Well, then why are they still sending me? I'll just be sent right back again when these Salmalíns realize how dead wrong they are."

She shrugged. Much as I loved her, she could be the most frustrating creature when she acted so shy. I wanted to shake her. I wanted real answers now, not just a nod or a shrug. I wanted to know as much as possible before I was shipped away to Carthak. I sighed, resigned, and lay down in the grass, looking up at the blue sky that showed no evidence of last nights storm. I couldn't help but wonder if there would be any evidence left here of me when I was gone.

A/N: And so the first chapter is done. The next chapter will be written from Numair's Pov, the one after that from Daine's and so on. Now, please review!