Chapter 7 — Morning Silence
1387 Words
Florence Drake woke to the sound of someone pounding on her door.
At first the noise entered her dreams like distant thunder. Her body refused to move, still wrapped in the fragile warmth of sleep.
Then the pounding came again.
Louder.
Harder.
“Florence!”
Her eyes flew open.
For a moment she lay perfectly still in the darkness of her small bedroom, her heart already beating faster.
The pounding continued.
She pushed the blanket aside and hurried across the room, her bare feet silent against the wooden floor.
When she opened the door, Marcus stood there.
Her brother filled the doorway with his broad shoulders, his expression twisted into a scowl.
Marcus Drake was rarely gentle when he spoke to her.
But today there was something sharper in his eyes.
“You don’t hear when someone calls you?” he snapped.
Florence blinked at him.
“I—”
She glanced back toward the small clock on her nightstand.
The red numbers glowed faintly in the darkness.
5:30 AM.
Her alarm was set for six.
She had not overslept.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
Marcus crossed his arms.
“Yesterday I came back from patrol with two hunters.”
Florence nodded slowly.
“I remember.”
“They’re leaving again soon.”
He leaned slightly against the doorframe.
“They need breakfast.”
Florence immediately nodded again.
“Of course.”
Marcus studied her for a moment, as if expecting resistance.
But Florence had learned long ago that resistance only made things worse.
She stepped past him into the hallway.
The Drake house was old and narrow, built from dark wood that creaked with every movement. The floorboards groaned softly beneath her feet as she hurried toward her room.
Marcus watched her go.
Sometimes he hated how quickly she obeyed.
It made him feel cruel.
But cruelty was easier than admitting guilt.
Florence returned to her room and dressed quickly.
She pulled on a pair of worn gray capri pants and a loose cotton shirt.
Nothing special.
Nothing pretty.
Nothing that might attract attention.
Attention was dangerous.
When she finished tying her hair into a simple braid, she slipped quietly into the hallway again.
The kitchen waited at the far end of the house.
The window above the sink showed only darkness outside.
Dawn had not yet arrived.
Florence lit the small kitchen lamp and began preparing breakfast.
Eggs.
Bread.
Salted meat from yesterday’s hunt.
Her hands moved quickly, almost automatically.
Cooking was something she had learned early in life.
Her mother disliked early mornings.
Marcus hated waiting.
So Florence cooked.
The quiet clatter of dishes filled the small room.
Then a door opened down the hallway.
Soft footsteps approached.
Her mother appeared in the doorway.
Ennis Drake looked tired.
Her hair was loose, falling messily around her shoulders, and she wrapped a thin robe tightly around her body.
She watched Florence silently for a moment.
Then she frowned.
“Try not to make so much noise,” she muttered.
Florence lowered the pan slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“You woke me.”
Florence nodded again.
“I’ll be quieter.”
Her mother rubbed her eyes.
“You always wake the house with your clumsy cooking.”
Florence said nothing.
Arguing would only make things worse.
Ennis poured herself a cup of water and drank it slowly.
Then she glanced toward the hallway.
“Your brother is becoming impatient.”
“I know.”
“Then hurry.”
Her mother turned and left the kitchen.
Florence released a quiet breath.
She finished cooking as quickly as she could.
Within fifteen minutes the table was ready.
Marcus entered the kitchen first.
Behind him came two hunters from the patrol.
Both men looked exhausted.
Their clothes were stained with dirt and dried blood from the night hunt.
But when they saw the food, their mood improved instantly.
“Now that smells good,” one of them said.
They sat down heavily at the table.
Marcus immediately began eating.
Florence stood near the counter.
That was where she usually remained.
Close enough to bring more food.
Far enough not to be in the way.
The hunters ate loudly.
One of them suddenly looked up.
His gaze landed on Florence.
Then slowly moved down her body.
Florence stiffened.
The man smirked.
“Well,” he said lazily.
Marcus didn’t look up.
“What?”
“That sister of yours.”
Florence felt her stomach tighten.
“What about her?” Marcus asked.
The hunter grinned.
“She’s grown up.”
Marcus sighed.
“Eat your food.”
Florence turned toward the sink.
She hoped the moment would pass.
But it didn’t.
The hunter stood up suddenly.
Before she could react—
SMACK.
His hand struck her hard across her backside.
Florence gasped.
A small cry escaped her before she could stop it.
She spun around, her eyes wide with shock.
The hunter laughed.
Marcus barely lifted his head.
“Behave,” he said lazily.
The second hunter chuckled.
“Relax.”
Florence looked desperately at her brother.
Marcus finally looked up.
For a brief moment guilt crossed his face.
But it vanished quickly.
“Just eat,” he muttered.
The first hunter leaned back in his chair.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I wonder something.”
Marcus frowned slightly.
“What?”
“Don’t you think your omega sister damages your reputation?”
The words fell into the room like a stone into water.
Silence spread across the kitchen.
Florence held her breath.
Marcus stared at his plate.
Then slowly his eyes lifted toward her.
The anger in them was unmistakable.
Florence swallowed hard.
“I’ll… go to my room,” she whispered.
No one objected.
She left quickly.
Her hands trembled as she closed the door behind her.
For a moment she leaned against it.
Her heart pounded painfully.
Her eyes burned.
But she refused to cry.
Crying would only make things worse.
After a few minutes she forced herself to move again.
She washed her face.
Changed clothes.
Packed her bag.
Inside were the keys to the university library.
The only place where she felt safe.
When she stepped into the hallway again, the hunters were still eating.
No one looked at her.
Florence quietly slipped out the front door.
The morning air was cold.
A pale gray light had begun to spread across the sky.
Mist hovered above the fields surrounding the Drake house.
Florence walked slowly down the narrow dirt path leading away from the pack homes.
Her shoulders were slightly hunched.
Her eyes fixed on the ground.
She preferred mornings like this.
Before the pack woke.
Before the whispers.
Before the laughter.
The road to the university would take nearly forty minutes on foot.
But she did not mind.
Walking meant peace.
Walking meant silence.
The grass was wet with dew.
Birds had just begun their morning songs.
Florence breathed deeply.
The scent of pine and damp earth filled the air.
For the first time that morning, the tight knot in her chest loosened slightly.
She clasped her hands together quietly.
“Goddess of the Moon,” she whispered.
Her voice was barely louder than the wind.
“Please let today be quiet.”
She did not ask for happiness.
She did not ask for love.
Only quiet.
Only peace.
She continued walking.
Far behind her, at the edge of the forest, two wolves watched.
Their bodies were hidden deep within the bushes at the far end of the field.
Yellow eyes followed her small figure.
The wolves did not move.
They only observed.
One tilted his head slightly.
“A lone omega.”
The other wolf’s ears twitched.
“She belongs to Red Hollow.”
They watched her walk farther down the path.
The first wolf sniffed the air.
“She smells afraid.”
The second wolf answered quietly.
“Most omegas do.”
They remained there until Florence disappeared behind the houses near the road.
Only then did the wolves move.
Without a sound they slipped back into the darkness of the forest.
The shadows swallowed them instantly.
And Florence Drake continued walking toward the university.
Unaware that somewhere in the wilderness, wolves had already begun to notice her existence.
And wolves rarely ignored opportunities for long.
- Writer
