HER REBIRTH

My mother always says that when the universe robs you of something you really wanted, it compensates with something you didn't know you'd need. Well, she was right. The universe has robbed me indeed, but its compensation makes everything worse. "Why is she so silent?" A voice whispers behind me. "Do you think she has gone into her trance?" I hear a palm softly strike flesh. "Ouch," the same voice whispers, "You didn't have to hit me, Shannon." "But I did," the person I presume is Shannon replies, "because you should know that she doesn't go into a trance." "Well, what is it then?" the previous girl asks. "She just clutches her chest, widens her eyes, and starts rifling through her purse for that—'' she stalls, at a loss for what to say. "Thing," she finally adds. "She has asthma," Shannon replies, sounding firm in her education of her friend. "But wolves don't have such problems. I don't understand why the Alpha's daughter would have such a human disease." The first girl sounds very confused and a pang thuds in my chest because I completely agree with her. A wolf shouldn't have this sort of disease, lest of all, one with the blood of Alphas flowing through her veins. If I were facing the girls, I would have tried my luck and offered the two girls a smile, but the unnecessary compensation the gods plagued me with tells me that there's a third girl in the group. Her silence doesn't spell well for how the conversation is going to turn so I keep my back firmly turned, pretending to be playing with the fishes in the stream and acting like I can't hear their conversation. In their defense, they are far away and are whispering really lowly, and even with wolf hearing, I shouldn't be able to hear them that clearly. But I've always been— blessed, as my mother says but I disagree— plagued with the ability to hear things that other wolves can't hear. I can tune out every background noise and focus on hearing conversations several feet away, even when I can't see the people talking. And I know there's a third girl because I can feel the presence of three people there, not two. So yeah, the gods' idea of compensating me for being the weakest wolf in the pack is to make it easy for me to hear EVERY gossip that includes my name, of which there is a lot. I've heard things that people thought they were saying inside their houses and there's no vile that I haven't been called. Of course, the gift does have its perks. I've saved my father from supposed pack members who were plotting to kill and overthrow him.  Of course, they don't know how the conversation they had in the privacy of their homes came to the Alpha's notice. "She's a freak, that's what she is." I unintentionally jolt at the harsh words, my fingers pausing their play on the stream surface. "It's a shame that the most pathetic thing in the pack belongs to Alpha McLaren's home." "Jessica!" Shannon whispers and yells. "Don't say that about her." "Oh, you know I'm telling the truth," Jessica replies, a smile evident in her voice. "It's good that she can't hear us," Shannon replies. My body is coiled as tight as a drawstring, and  I await Jessica's next words. I just know that she isn't done. And I'm proven right the next second. Jessica clears her throat. "Well, let's make her hear me then. Surely, her useless wolf still gave her some werewolf hearing." My wolf stirs slowly inside me, her temper bristling. "Cassandra Stephenson should just throw herself off a rock, or leave the pack. She's a disgrace to The Hollow Hounds pack and to the Alpha's family. We don't want that outcast living with us for even one more second." Although these aren't words I've never heard before, tears spring to my eyes. Thankfully, I have learned to turn off the hearing when it gets overwhelming, so I do just that, right as Shannon gets into an argument with Jessica. I will let the tears recede, telling myself that it isn't worth it. Girls like Jessica thrive off hatred. It isn't our first spat and it won't be our last. Well, I guess you can't call it a spat. I only ever talked back when we were younger. Jessica Walter is the first daughter of my father's Beta. She, alongside her younger sister, Lauren, has always delighted in reminding me that I'm too weak and sick to be a wolf. I always had a ready response, until I couldn't turn when I turned 16. Jessica had turned 16 a week before and it was a coincidence that the full moon appeared on my birthday.  Our dads, unaware of our fights, were happy to guard us on turning on the same night, along with other wolves who turned 16 in the week. My wolf has always been weak, but in the days leading up to the day, my wolf had been increasingly weaker. I was scared and confided in my parents who consulted healers. Nothing was found to be the problem and I was cleared. I prayed, oh goddess I prayed like I had never prayed. I had been alienated my entire life because of my delicate health, I would be finished if something was wrong with my wolf. That night, I stood outside with all my age groups, and I still stood there and watched every single one of them turn into a wolf for the first time, their pained cries renting the air. With tears streaming down my cheeks and down the column of my throat, I called out to my wolf, but she didn't answer. I called her till all the wolves that had been standing with me turned and ran off.  I called her and cried to the goddess till the full moon was swallowed by dawn. It was then that I promptly collapsed into my mother's arms and wept loudly. I didn't remember anything from that night but my father and brothers' arms wrapping around my sobbing frame. The first person that came to see me the next morning was a smug Jessica who pretended to be concerned for my parents but came into my room to mock me. I promptly banned her from coming to my house. After then, I'd been outside every full moon night, praying and wishing that it would finally happen. My brothers were always outside with me, my parents watching from the window, their hands wrapped around each other. It never did, and it's a statement of my perseverance that I only gave up after a year. It's been three years since then and I'm now nineteen, but Jessica has only grown more smug and my family has grown more protective. I, on the other hand, am just trying to give myself reasons to be happy every day. Some days, it came in the form of time spent with my family. Other times, it came in the form of feeding the fish in my favorite stream. Today, I had chosen to be with the fishes but of course, Jessica had to ruin it. By the time I crane my neck back to look at where they were seated, they are gone. My mood has soured and I want to go home as well, but I don't want to bump into them on the way back. After waiting half an hour, I head back home, passing several people on the way who grace me with varying expressions. The older ones look at me with pity in their eyes, the younger ones -the ones my age- look at me with barely-hid disgust, and the little ones look at me with confusion and trepidation. I force myself to walk at a steady pace and keep my head lowered till I get to the house. We don't live in the pack house. My parents had wanted more privacy and we had built a wonderful five-bedroom a short distance away from the pack house. Once I get there, I feel the air change. It feels more electric, indicating danger and heightened emotions.  Yes, I can sense emotions as well. It's just one of my few quirks. I approach the house carefully, not sure of what I'm feeling. I squeal and jump back when the door opens with a loud bang. "Cassandra!" My father booms, his large frame filling up the wide doorway.  His normally warm, brown eyes are wild with concern but relief floods the eyes when she sees me. "Come here," he holds out his hand and I rush into it, my heart pounding against my rib cage. A few other men file out of our home. I recognize all of them as my father's confidants and closest men. Jessica's father, Beta Walter moved to stand in front, his figure tightened with rage. My oldest brother, George, sweeps down the stairs, rushing to my father. "What happened?" He asks. The fact that George, who is the next Alpha in line, wasn't a part of this meeting proves that it was impromptu. "Alpha Vincent De Santis has been sighted nearby," my father bites out angrily. "We may soon be under attack."