CHAPTER FORTY
The first sliver of daylight creeps in through the gap in the curtains, mocking me with its cheerfulness. My eyes snap open, heavy with the weight of last night's failure. I had tried, with every fiber of my being, to call forth the rain – to end the drought that threatened our pack and prove my worth. But the sky remained as dry and unforgiving as the desert sands that stretched beyond our territory.
I roll over, burying my face into the pillow, inhaling the lingering scent of earth from the fabric. It's a small comfort, one I cling to as the reality of my failure settles in my stomach like a stone. The silence of the cabin is a stark reminder of my isolation – self-imposed, but necessary. I can't bear to meet their eyes, the eyes of my pack, my family, who needed me to be
