Emergence of an Omega

The cold morning dew nipped my skin, and I stood tensed at the edge of the training field. There was the usual sneering and glares from the rest of the pack today, sharp and relentless. I knew what was going to come next-more taunts and jeering. This was my life in the Silverfang Pack. I pulled my hood lower, trying to shield myself from the bitter wind and the stares. But I couldn't hide. Not here. "Look who decided to show up!" a voice sneered behind me. I didn't need to turn to know it was Cameron, one of the top warriors. His tall frame cast a long shadow over me, and I tensed. I clenched my fist, willing myself not to move. Don't react. It is so easy for them when one gives them the time of day. "Hey, Amara, still pretending you can keep up with us?" A unified jest elevated from the group training in the vicinity. They moved around me like wolves circling their prey. I had grown used to jeers and taunts-the constant reminders that I did not belong. It was the same ritual every day. Cameron took a step closer, his voice dripping with disdain. "You know, we don't need an omega to slow us down today. Go back to the den and stay there where you fit in." "Yeah, she's just going to trip over her own feet and get us all killed," someone else said, the timber of their voice so plainly threaded through with humor. I swallowed the boulder in my throat and flattened my voice out. "I'm here to train, just like everybody else. "You? Train?" Again, Cameron's jeering laughter cut through the cold. He reached out and pushed at my shoulder, light, but enough that I stumbled. "You are wasting our time, Amara." I straightened, my eyes locking with his. "I won't always be the omega, Cameron." His laughter stopped, his face hardening. "You're right. You'll be dead before you get the chance to be anything more." I didn't even have time to answer as the shrill whistle of the trainer sliced through the tension. "Everyone, to your stations! There is no time to waste!" The crowd scattered, leaving me to stand there all by my lonesome. Not before Cameron gave me one last smirk, though. I huffed loudly and ran the length toward the far end of the field where they always sent me, afield from the main group, alone. I can do this, I repeated to myself. I had to. Training was hellish, but that was the only way to grow stronger-to prove that I wasn't some useless omega everyone thought me to be. Every punch, every kick, and every lunge, I gave it my all, as if trying to drown out the voices in my head that told me how I wasn't good enough. "Useless, weak, pathetic." Still, their words replayed themselves within my mind. The pack had never taken me in, not since the day my parents had passed away. I was not like them, even when a child; I was the odd one out. They made sure of that, and I could never remember otherwise: I was not a part of them. And my only ever-so-nice grandmother was too old now, could hardly protect me from the torture that came along daily. I was sweating, droplets rolling off my forehead, as I went through the drills, each movement pushing my body harder. Pain seared through my arms and legs, but I reveled in it. Pain was something I could manage. Unlike scornful words from the pack night and day. "Faster, Amara!" the trainer yelled from across the field, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're slower than a pup!" I growled under my breath and launched myself forward, burning muscles ignored. I wasn't slow. I wasn't weak. They just didn't want to see it. The sudden sharp stinging pain that wracked my ankle sent shockwaves through the joint, and I went down hard, knees slamming into dirt. I let out a low groan, trying to stand-my ankle gave out beneath me. Glancing up, I saw the others staring, smirks wide and cruel. Cameron's voice floated again, ripe with mock pity. "Oh no, looks like Amara's hurt. Maybe she should sit this one out. permanently." The laughter roared around me, but pain be damned, I made myself get back up. They weren't going to get the benefit of seeing me fall apart. Not today. "Get up," I whispered. "Get up." I got through the second half hobbling, biting my lip in pain, all set on finishing. Till finally, as it blew on the end of training, the sun was low indeed. Last off that field-just like always. Alone-just like always. I walked through the forest, the path to my grandmother's cabin at least a familiar comfort. The sound of leaves crushing beneath my feet was soothing amidst the racing of my mind. As I pushed the cabin door open, a wave of warmth and herbal tea enveloped me. My grandmother was seated on her old rocking chair by the fire; her silver hair was shining in the firelight. She looked up, her warm eyes instantly taking on gentleness as they alighted on me. "Rough day, love?" I slumped my bag off my shoulder and collapsed into the chair opposite her. "It’s just the same thing as usual” I said to my grandmother, dropping my head back. "They don't see me as one of them. I'm just. nothing." She let out a slow sigh and shook her head. "You are not nothing, Amara. You are stronger than any of them. "You're not nothing, Amara. You're stronger than any of them," she whispered, her voice a balm every time because of its softness. I did take another deep breath in and with it the sting in my ankle and the weight of the rejection fell onto me through the day. "They don't believe it. They think I am weak." My grandma leaned over and laid a reassuring hand on mine. "Strength isn't always about how you fight. It's about how you get up every time you fall. They may not see your worth now, but that doesn't mean it isn't there." I looked into her eyes, searching in them for solace in this self-assured belief of hers. "You really think I can prove them wrong? She smiled then, her eyes shining with quiet confidence. "I know you can. You just need to believe it yourself." I nodded, drawing strength from her words. Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to prove them wrong.