Zaira’s POV
I wasn’t a fighter. No. I could barely win against a bloody mosquito.
I could not remember the last time I had even tried to fight. It was probably when I was still a toddler. Even worse, I doubt I won the battle. My memory of that time was woozy.
I could not fight, nor did I have any particular fighting experience I could put into gear when I lunged at the beast, but I had one thing.
Anger. Anger and resentment. A whole belly filled with it and I was ready to do something. To actually fight back for once.
The feeling inside of me was the accumulation of all the hurt I felt. I felt hatred towards everything that led me to this situation. I felt hatred towards the Moon Goddess for not saving me and my mates. I felt hatred towards my pack for pushing us into this purgatory.
