Chapter 1
Velari's POV
Growing up, the first and most important thing I learnt about being a werewolf was that I wasn't a very good one. Taking a walk around the Silverfang pack, I would always hear their little whispers, but there's nothing I could do about it.
While others in the pack would spar gracefully and be able to shift and let out their wolves, I was stuck with the burden of basically trying to survive, while every bone in my body was painfully against my existence.
I walked back home as quickly as I could with a bag of grains. I had toiled under extreme conditions to get something that won't fetch us enough to last four full moons. But no matter how deeply my family dives into poverty, I’d forever be content.
I returned home to find shreds of fur all around the house, pieces of paper, and the sound of the steaming kettle in the kitchen whistling loud enough to damage my eardrums. I sighed and walked past the mess to find my mother. My mother was at it again. Her monthly shedding was one of the most tiring times for me.
“Mother…where are you? I'm home,” I walked slowly to her room while kicking away the obstacles in the way with an exhausted look on my face, then I saw her, but the look of exhaustion changed to confusion and horror.
My mother wasn't shedding. Something else had happened.
I crouched slowly and then I heard her clearly. She was sobbing frantically, her heartbeat unsteady and fast-paced. “Velari, they took him”. She uttered in between sobs.
I stared at my mother in confusion while trying to comprehend what I had just heard. Took who? My father? How did this even happen? I didn't know my dad to be involved in any shady business or whatever. My dad was calm; he always put up a bright, warm smile and hardly got involved with anyone at all. I needed answers and I needed them fast.
The fur and mess everywhere in my house showed signs of struggle. Wolves were let out, and there was a fight. But it wasn't time to play detective.
Just then, I felt it. That salty liquid I dreaded so much. It left my eyes and rolled down my fair cheeks till it dropped on the hardwood floor. It felt like I could hear the drop of the tear and then....pin drop silence. I held my mother tight while she sobbed. Her wolf wailed like a banshee and all I could do was stare with rage burning through my eyes.
The sky decided to join in our misery and soon it became as dark as a Lycan's shadow on a full moon. The wind howled and whistled while I sat quietly reminiscing on the moments I had shared with my father while streams of salty water left my eyes. “Some wolves are born with claws…others with a bright heart. Don't let them dim it”. His words clawed at my heart, and eventually, I let the salty tears flow endlessly. I didn't let out a sound; I only silently hoped and prayed that father would be okay, but deep down I knew. I expected things to go south.
I had the tugging feeling that something worse was going to happen but I couldn't place a claw on it.
I had to start somewhere. Just as I was about to get up, right from the corner of my eyes, I saw it… the piece of high-quality paper that looked like it weighed a million pounds.
The sides were crumbled, and I got the hint of that metallic smell—blood. I didn't bother reading, I just tucked it in the back pocket of my trousers. I knew that reading whatever was on that paper would make me feel worse than I already did.
I wiped my tears with the back of my sleeves and began clearing the house starting with my mother’s room. I brushed all the fur aside and got her to lie down on her bed, her weak, yet beautiful frame resting peacefully in my arms.
I pulled her blanket up to her chin while her sobbing reduced a little, her tremblings stopped, and her breathing steadied. She didn't say a word—she didn't have to. I gave her a light peck on her cheeks before I left her room.
The kettle on the stove had gone silent a long time ago. I dwelled in the weight of the silence in the house accompanied by the drops of rain on the roof, which was interrupted by the rumbling of my stomach. My whole body ached a lot, but my mind was very restless, the only sight playing in my head was that of the rumpled paper in my back pocket.
I moved around the house, picking every bit of fur and every piece of our impending doom. The overturned chairs, the clawed walls, the pieces of my mother's favourite vase shattered on the ground, everything seemed to whisper some horrible truth, but I chose not to listen. I couldn't afford to listen.
Once I was done, I settled onto a small stool by the table, staring at the blazing fire, every fibre in my body telling me to burn that little paper in my pocket. But I couldn't. I knew that our lives would change forever once I read it. But it could wait.
Not this night.
My answers could come in the morning. My duty tonight was to keep my mother safe, warm, and to prevent my wolf from painfully being released with the burning rage flowing through my body.
But the mysterious contents of that paper bugged me. I couldn't just ignore it, yet I did.
I had to wait. I felt like the morning would bring a glimmer of hope, “a new dawn” like they always say.
I silently stared at the blazing fireplace, listening to the melody of the pouring rain, counting the
seconds like my life depended on it…cause it did.
