Orphan Alpha Daughter: Unwanted (The Sable River Series #1)

Chapter Four

The Turning Ceremony began on Full Moon, with an insanely loud howl from the Alpha and the rest of the pack. While they weren’t all here with us, there were enough assembled to create a dramatic scene in the forest clearing we found ourselves in. Both myself and the other new turners were in the centre of the clearing, while the others ringed around it, keeping back yet showing their presence & support for their loved ones.

“Ealiah, honey, I’m here. Breathe, just like we talked about, OK? You’ll be fine.” Despite her gravel voice, Marta showed more softness in that moment than I had ever seen, and it was surprising, but exactly what I needed. Some support in a crazy, world-upside-down moment in my life, when I would become my fully fledged self, but also when I was submerged in terror at the thought of what was to come.

The moon was almost up, and we were just awaiting the beginning of our transformation.

SNAP. Someone’s bone broke as they started to transform for the first time. This was followed by a howl of heart-rending pain. My heart dropped into the forest floor as I shuddered. Thankfully, I had hardly any more time to dread the upcoming pain. I was suddenly consumed by agony as my own bones started cracking and reforming, moving and grating as I began, finally, to Turn.

I could never have imagined this pain, or the sliding and moving feeling of my bones. Prior to turning, this type of bone movement would kill a human, even a human werewolf. Feeling this happening through the white-hot pain felt unbelievably wrong, which was unexpected for me-I had only expected the pain itself. I could hear a loud howl through the fog of pain, and with a jolt realised it was myself screaming, along with the other loud howls of the Turners with me.

My body convulsed- the pain was never ending, and it was getting absolutely horrifying to feel my bones moving without my consent, transforming me from the inside out.

Just as I felt I had reached the peak, the pain changed a little, to my body being encased in a horrid painfully prickly feeling, like a hundred scabs peeling off at once. The pain was lessening, but it was still pulsing through my muscles and brain constantly-and the itch on my skin began to become unbearable.

As my fur pushed through my skin, I snapped my head back in shock, and not only from my current involuntary physical exertions. Into my blurry mind had snapped a clearly defined picture, that of the greenest eyes I had ever seen, in a burnished brown wolfy face. I knew instinctively that it was the same wolf I saw in the forest.

While this image burned into my brain, I was unable to keep the focus on who or what this might be, for the Turning was almost complete. I joined those around me in a last painful gasp, then the pain simply disappeared, amidst the rags of my former only-human self.

I could feel the rush of air into my lungs, cold and sweet. I could feel my vision sharpening, my hearing clear. I was suddenly aware of the moonlit night, the feeling of buzzing energy pulsing through my veins, in place of the burning agony of a minute ago.

I suddenly realised that while I was laying back on the ground, I wasn’t laying like I usually would. In fact, I was laying along on my side, almost lounging, and the leaves and rocks around me were suddenly a lot smaller than they were previously.

I was laying there catching my breath, but on the inside I was instantly tense, trying to recover with a feeling of ‘what the HELL was that’, and wondering what colour my wolf would be. I shakily turned my eyes towards where my human feet would be, only to see a carpet of whitish-blonde fur.

Blonde? A blonde wolf? How on earth...?

I stood, staring at my paws in shock. I have never seen a blonde wolf before. In fact, I have rarely even heard of a blonde wolf before - only very rare and special wolves were blonde. I shakily turned my gaze to the other wolves around the clearing, new Turners just like me. They were also in a state of shock, becoming aware of their new bodies, being healed from the inside out with their werewolf genes. And they were all black, grey, or brown. No more blondes like me. I realised there were a few shocked and awe-struck faces around me, marveling at my colour and 6-foot-tall wolf, but I was still so caught up in my own head that I cared little what they thought at this moment.

Healing! Realised what the new wolves around me were doing as they stretched out their limbs and wiggled their paws, I suddenly forgot my blonde fur and realised there was a way to find out if healing was more than physical. Would being a full werewolf finally heal me of my childhood trauma? Would it erase some of the sometimes physical hurt I still felt, not only for my mother's death but the subsequent rejection from my now-estranged father?

But how did one test this out? I tried metaphorically ‘feeling’ for my heart. Was it still broken? But there was no sign. No difference there.

I tried thinking of my father, and while the pain was lessened from before, it was still there. Burning and hollow at the same time, the burn of rejection from the man who was supposed to be my protector in life. I slumped down in defeat, watching as the fur faded from around my paws, turning effortlessly back into human hands, followed by the rest of my body.

“Here, sweetie,” said Marta, snapping me from my listless pose as she handed me my hooded blanket. “You did so well, and what a stunning, unique wolf you have! I’ll see you at the packhouse, OK? We’re turning to run back together. You know the rules about after dark.” Marta was showing the kind heart underneath her somewhat bristly exterior. I guess she really did feel a sense of motherly love for me. I smiled shakily back at her, grateful for her caring words shown my way.

I reached for my hooded blanket with a jerky nod of thanks and hauled my tender, irreversibly changed but identical human body to the small private space to put our clothes back on. I was reeling.

Waiting years for this moment, feeling like this would be the end date to my broken-hearted suffering and Daddy issues, and then it still hurt. Unable to tell anyone even now, because of that deep-rooted fear that they would react, and then he would find me and make good on his promise. Even Marta and Tahni didn’t know the truth.

With the family support wolves, including Marta, already taken off into the woods in a hail of varying furry colours, on their way back to the packhouse, we began the bus ride home. I vaguely noticed the driver was a different werewolf warrior, sporting a big black beard and glasses. The original driver had run back to the packhouse with the spectators. It was not often wolves had a proper run with the pack at night, so people often took the chance to do so when the opportunity arose.

The other new Turners were as silent, tired and shell-shocked as I was, it was clear by their staring eyes and slow movements. We had all been through a huge ordeal, and it was beginning to tell on our bodies. Even though we heal fast, and from most things, this does not prevent tiredness or the extreme mental and emotional fatigue that the first Turning brings- including the huge buildup. I felt adrift on my own personal emotional sea, just slumping in the seat until we arrived back at the packhouse. Staring into nothingness, dazed and my heart aching once again.

Why did he have to do that to me?

Isn’t a father supposed to care for his offspring, be protective and guard them against others causing them this type of pain? How could he do this to me himself? I mean, for all he knew I was dead.

I had to remind myself that my own mental well-being tested on my being able to leave those questions in the ‘Dad was in the wrong’ mental box, and realise that I was an innocent child, and it was wrong. It didn’t make it any easier to stomach though.

My mind wandered to the eyes in my vision, and had me curious as to whose they were. Changing my focus must have helped dull the chest ache I felt, because although exhaustingly tired, I started to feel better.