Pack of One

Chapter 4: The Night

I stared at the ceiling, my breath coming in gasps. The wooden beams were high above my head, and the sound of a light rain pattered on the rooftop. The women's dorm was quiet, most of the inhabitants fast asleep after a hard day of labor supporting the pack. Like me, these women devoted their whole lives to the pack's way of life, cleaning, cooking, and serving. The male's dorm, only a few feet away, was also silent. They spent their days cleaning, hunting, and supporting the higher-stationed males of the group.

Of all the lower-caste members, I appeared to be the only one still awake.

The soft breathing of my roommate inside our little partitioned dorm was usually enough to lull me into sleep no matter what my feelings were, but tonight nothing could calm me. That interaction with Marcus replayed over and over again in my head. 

As a bottom-rung member of the pack, Marcus had the right to do whatever he wanted to me. It had long been established that human laws did not apply to packs; there would be nothing in the world to protect me when I became 17. I could feel the wolf part of me growling and snapping at the bonds that held me to Winterfold and its Alpha family, but there was nothing I could do. Nothing my wolf half could do either.

I sat up, running my fingers along the bruises Marcus had left on me, hoping that they had disappeared. That they had never happened, that the whole thing had been some sort of mad nightmare. The thought of being a breeder to Marcus made the bile rise in my throat, stinging the back of my mouth with the taste of vomit.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked, sleepy and gravely. Charity sat up in their bed, looking over at me. They still looked half-asleep, their eyes barely open but still managing to look concerned. "You cannot sleep?"

"I had a run-in with Marcus today," I said, shivering. I didn't tell Charity the substance of our conversation; I wasn't sure I could handle saying the words out loud. "He was unkind."

They smiled in return. Charity knew better than anyone how unkind Marcus could be. They were down in the bottom rungs with me; Marcus was one of those werewolves who "didn't believe" in Two-Spirited bodies and refused to acknowledge Charity's non-binary status. Marcus and the entire Alpha family forced Charity to live in the female dorms, against all tradition, forcing them to use feminine pronouns when they were obviously not suited to them.

Marcus took it upon himself to torture Charity as often as possible for it.

Charity was a lean wolf, their gray-blonde hair tumbling in soft curls to one side. The sides by their ears were close-shaven, displaying a swirling tattoo delineating their Two-Spirit status to the tribe. While most would have grown out the hair and hidden the tattoo from a man like Marcus, Charity took the abuse in order to retain their gender and their dignity. It was what made me love them so much. 

"Oh dear," they said in response. "I know what Marcus can be like. I am sorry that you had to deal with him. Can I be of assistance?" Charity's short, clipped sentences and formal speech were soothingly familiar to my frayed nerves.

"I'm already feeling better," I said, trying to smile through the pain in my chest. "I just need to force myself to relax, right?"

"Yes. The breathing exercises I taught you should be of some help."

I reached out a hand and Charity clasped my fingers with their own. "I'll give them a try."

Charity smiled softly, then slid back under the covers and fell back asleep almost immediately. I tried to mimic their breathing patterns, focusing on deep, slow breathing into my belly.

It was still a long time before I was able to fall asleep.