Never Free

Ch. 3 The Fight

Xochi looked down at the red boots Amber had given her to wear. She could tell they had been gently used by the scuff marks on the top of the left one, but her feet felt comfortable in the strange new shoes. The snow on the ground crushed beneath her with each step she took as she looked around at the cluster of buildings. Behind them were towering pines that almost hid the sky from her view.

She turned at the sound of the two boys she had met the night prior bursting through the door behind her. Their shrieks and giggles felt so alien to her at that moment. Everything seemed strange to her. The snow, the blue puffy jacket she wore, the trees, the cold. It was all uncomfortably new. She wanted to go home, to hug her mother, hear her father’s voice, but she was old enough to understand that it wasn’t possible. Not if what Amber had said was true, that they were gone. Forever.

With a sigh, she watched the boys throw snow at each other. After a few tosses, Byron walked up to Xochi and placed a perfectly pressed snowball in her tiny gloved hand. She stared at it, then back at him, her expression blank.

“Toss it,” he encouraged with a smile. She glared at him and let it roll out of her hand, splattering on her boots. His smile faltered for a second before reemerging. “I’m sure you can throw better than that.”

She blinked, then turned to walk away. Xochi wasn't in the mood to play. She wasn't trying to make friends with those boys; she was homesick.

"Byron, she's not important. She’s just sad trash Mom found on the side of the road,” Brandon said, walking up behind his brother; a disgusting smirk smeared on his face.

“I’m not trash,” Xochi growled without turning to look at him, her feet stalling on a slushy puddle of snow. Her eyes were fixed on the muddy water when she felt the hard smack of a snowball hitting the back of her head. She snapped quickly to glare at the brothers. Byron’s brows had come together as he stared daggers at his cackling brother.

“Why did you do that,” Byron whispered harshly.

“What’s wrong, Trash,” Brandon asked Xochi, ignoring his brother’s question. “Oh, don’t you like your name?’ Another cackle burst out of Brandon’s lips.

“The only trash I see is the one laughing right now,” Xochi sneered. Brandon’s smile immediately died at hearing her words. He took a few steps separating them for a moment and pushed his face into hers.

“Are you calling me trash?” His face flushed as he squinted at her.

“Yeah, I am, she answered, never flinching or backing away.

“Brandon,” Byron called out, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, hoping to ease the tension by distracting him. But before Byron could do anything meaningful, Brandon swung his balled fist into Xochi’s arm. The force knocked her into the snow behind her.

“Brandon,” Byron yelled out, this time his voice took on an anxious pitch. “Stop!” But Brandon was already on top of Xochi, pummeling her with both his gloved hands. She blocked the blows with her well-padded arms, but he was bigger and stronger than her. She knew that if he continued, she was going to wake up with bruises on her arms. “Brandon,” Xochi could hear Byron screaming.

After a few moments, his screaming was interrupted by a shrill female voice thundering over the sounds of Brandon’s punches.

“Brandon! You stop this very instant!” He immediately listened. Brandon, puffing clouded breaths into the chilled air, sat back and off of Xochi on hearing his mother’s voice. Amber stood in the doorway a few dozen feet from the children, her hands on her hips, assessing the sight. Eventually, she walked over to the group of kids, her hands never leaving her hips and a furrow dug deep between her brows.

“What on Earth do you think you are doing,” she asked Brandon.

“She started it,” he lied.

“I don’t care who started it, I’m ending it now.” Amber turned to look at Byron. “What happened?”

Brandon snarled at his brother, but Byron only glanced at him. His eyes rested on the dark-haired girl on the ground attempting to sit up. He knew his brother would retaliate if he told his mother the truth. Whether that was being on the receiving end of whatever punches he wasn’t able to land on Xochi or whatever else Brandon thought would even the score, Byron knew from experience, it would wait for him. But he felt a pit form in his stomach at the thought of lying. Especially as Xochi’s eyes landed on him.

“Brandon called her trash and she didn’t back down, so Brandon started hitting her.”

Amber’s anger rolled off of her in waves. She slowly turned to look back at her eldest, and he shrunk from the weight of her gaze.

“Brandon, do you know who this girl is?” He responded with a jerky shake of his head. “That girl is your Luna.” Amber paused, allowing the words to hang in the air. She wanted to make sure each child pinned them to their memory.

“One day, you will look at her and you will only want her. She comes from a very important pack and the fact that she isn’t scared of you should be proof that she is meant to be your Luna. So, please, keep your hands off of her… Because if I ever hear that you’ve touched her with your fists again, I swear I will tear the pelt off of you with my bare hands.” When no one said anything, not even exhaled, Amber asked, “Do you understand?”

He nodded slowly.

“Good,” Amber sighed. “Now, apologize to Xochi.”

“Xochi,” Brandon asked, his lip lifted in disgust.

“Yes, to Xochi. Now, apologize.” The snarl never disappeared as he murmured his apology, but with Amber appeased, Brandon seemed to deflate. A little piece of Xochi celebrated his misfortune and when Amber headed back inside the house, she stuck her tongue out at Brandon.

She heard him muttering some grown-up words as she stood up and walked back into the house. She didn’t care what Amber had said. At that very moment, she vowed to never, ever become Brandon’s Luna. No matter what the grown-ups said, she knew they could never make her do anything she didn’t want, and being his Luna was very much something she didn’t want.

Brandon smacked the snow next to him as he watched Xochi enter his family’s cabin and close the door.

“I hate her,” he grumbled as his brother walked up to him. “I’ll always hate her.”

“Why,” Byron asked. “She hasn’t done anything to you.” Brandon didn’t answer. He glared at the closed door of the house, lost in thought about the ebony-haired girl. His mother had never spoken to him like that. She was always patient and honey-toned with him. He was the future Alpha, she would tell him repeatedly, and as the future Alpha, he deserved respect. His mother always made sure to show the rest of the pack how to properly speak to him. But then this little girl shows up and his mother ACTUALLY threatened him. She had never laid a finger on him in his life, and now, because of that piece of trash girl, she was yelling, screaming, promising to harm him. It was all her fault his mother had changed so much. Brandon swore on his life that he would hate her until his last breath.

“Brandon,” Byron’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. “Are you OK?” Brandon slugged Byron in the arm before standing up again.

“That’s for ratting me out to Mom.” Brandon turned around and started walking towards the forest behind the pack buildings. “Don’t follow me, brat, or I’ll punch you again,” he said over his shoulder. Byron stood there, watching his brother walk away.