Ben
Angela was still whining when we arrived in the clearing that marked the start of our pack land. I stared at the shabby, falling-down shacks in the distance, smoke rising from them. I continued walking, feeling the disappointment sink in. Rage bubbled beneath the surface — this was what I was left with after years of work. Just because my father couldn’t keep it together and give me time to fix what Angela’s dumb ass broke.
We reached the circle of shacks to find deer carcasses hanging, clear bites ripped out of them, making me fight off a gag. I looked around, expecting to see a palace, but instead all I found was a slightly larger shack with a tin roof instead of the wooden ones the others had.
I made my way toward it, Angela still running her mouth behind me.
“Would you shut the
