Chapter- Forty
She is in another dress.
This one is worn by choice, no nagging Josephine or moony eyed husbands to impress. There are no imperial colors, no gold or black or purple, or long ends that makes her trip on her feet. It’s a shade of green, the shade of the late spring trees, or the rose shrubs in the garden, it’s earthly and it’s human. It reaches past her knees and covers up all the scars on her upper arms, collarbone and elbows, but the indentation of the trackers are still there; a pale circle of fresh amidst over wrought tan skin, so are the twin markings on her neck; with her hair tied behind her back, the two marks, the ones that she resented so much stands proud.
She doesn’t resent those marks anymore, not when the boys had gotten some kind of a werewolf tattoo artist
