Aisla's POV
Whispers follow me everywhere now.
They cling to me like pins I can't shake off, sticking in my hair and pricking my skin.
Every time I walk through the corridors, I hear the words. Cursed. Wrong. Dangerous. War.
Sometimes I hear the words loud and clear. Sometimes it was just the looks... quick glances when they think I am not watching, and mothers pulling their children closer when I pass.
The worst part? I want to believe them, but there is a conviction that I am not a danger to the pack.
And I had no idea where it is from, but it is stronger than the doubt in my head.
I try to drown the voices out in training, with the rhythm of sparring, the burn in my arms from swinging a blade, the sweat soaking my shirt, and of course, Mora's chants.
But no matter how hard I
