Lycer's POV
I had always tried to stay out of the business of others. The more you get involved, the more trouble you find yourself in. And from my experience, the more trouble you find yourself in - the more those you love will get hurt.
But years ago. . . Years ago I couldn't help it.
I was young and I longed for community. I had already learned of the ways communities could be ripped apart and ripped away. I guess that's why I felt such sympathy for the small girl in that group of rogues. At first, I followed the group. They seemed to be a displaced pack; full of teens, children, and women. I wanted to befriend them at first, thinking maybe I could fit in. Afterall, despite my mental developments and trauma, I was technically their average age range.
They played games and had some laughs. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to play. I was quickly coming to the acceptance that, despite my longing, it wasn't in the cards of reality for me. Even if they did accept an outsider such as myself (which was highly unlikely), then I wouldn't share their history. I would be the new guy.
Still, I hung around. Dreaming of a day in which I would have a community such as theirs. I stayed up in the trees, watching them all from a distance. Then I noticed her.
She was smaller than the others, with unruly brown hair and smudges of dirt usually upon her round cheeks. She gave most of the kids a smile but as soon as their backs turned to her, which they often did, it would fade. They would laugh at her expense, exclude her from hunting, and occasionally push her around. It became more clear the first day I saw her shift. Her wolf was small, much like a pup of a full wolf. She's a runt. I never understood the prejuicdice myself but I understood the pride of a wolf. Her mother seemed to love her all the same and I found myself wishing the others felt the same towards this small girl who seemed to know very few kindnesses of the world. The hatred towards her became abundantly clear when I began to observe the dynamic of their group. Many of the younger members seemed to follow this blond haired buffon, Christopher was what she called him. He watched her often. He held a longing within him but it was clear that she is not his mate. And for that, he hated her. And because of his hatred, everyone else seemed to follow suit.
He has alpha blood, that much is clear. And despite the fact that they are less than a pack, they came from a pack. And because of that, they fell into the hierarchy and dynamics as if they were still complete.
I bit my tongue every time I saw him belittle her. Every shove of her shoulder had me holding myself back. But that day he pinned her to a tree. . I couldn't not intervene. Who knows how far he would have gone. Who knows how much she would have cried and been able to do nothing. She may have been helpless but I sure as hell wasn't.
From that day on, I decided to place myself into her world.
"You," she had called out into the trees after that first day. She had finally spotted me. None of the others had before. The thing about me is that I'm not easily detectable. A trait of my bloodline, I suppose you could say. "I know you're there." I was still hesitant at that moment, lowering myself gently down the branches until I knew she could see me clearer. I could hear her group in the close distance.Her eyes find me, studying me for a minute. I knew I was cleaner than most rogues, always having had a sort of pride in my appearance. The lightness of my hair alone was something to throw one off in the woods. She looks back towards her group. "I just wanted to thank you," she says softly. And off she went. I went back up in the trees and followed. I watched as that boy - Christopher - watched her coming back. He had a frown on his face but his eyes never left her.
I wasn't sure which of us found the other the next time. I was hunting, focused on a deer that I'd been tracking not far from her group when a small crying body ran into mine. I had been so focused on my task at hand that I didn't hear or see her coming. She was so lost in her emotions that she didn't see me. She was lucky it was me, if I had been a regular rogue she could have gotten hurt. She was startled at first, eyes wide as she found her footing and set her gaze on me. "Oh," she said through sniffles, wiping a hand under her nose and up her cheek to catch the still falling tears. "It's just you." Just me. As if she knew me. All she knew was that I had saved her that day and that I seemed to be sticking around. She didn't know if I had an ulterior motive. I didn't know if I had an ulterior motive. Not at the time.
"Why are you crying?" I didn't know the words had left my own mouth until she blinked at me, big doe eyes still swimming with emotion.
She looked back at the direction of her group. I understood. And I didn't. Nonetheless, I looked around. A small white flower had been growing near the base of a tree. I was always told not to mess with the beauty of nature, let her be and she will be kind to you. But at that moment, I decided a kindness was due to the small girl in front of me. I plucked the flower and gave it to her, giving her a small smile. She was hesitant when she took the flower from me but it was enough of a distraction for the tears to stop.
"Be careful next time," I instruct. She nodded. I turned to look back for the deer, tuning my senses back into the forest around us. The deer seemed long gone.
She began to look for me. Whenever she left her group, I saw her looking up into the trees. "Are you there?" She had eventually called out. Of course I was. Something in me couldn't stay away from her. My sense of longing for a community was quickly overshadowed by a growing urge to be there for this girl who was almost an outcast in this group of rogues. I think something in me saw myself in her. Saw the kid that longed for more than the world dealt to them. Saw the cruelties expended onto her. Her dad was gone, like much of her group. I saw the way her mother carried a broken heart on her sleeve and how that reflected onto her. It reminded me of how much I missed my own mother.
I jumped down, giving her a smile. Her eyes squinted, as she seemingly studied me.
"Why are you sticking around me?" The question made my eyes widen. Why was I sticking around her? Did I feel bad for her? Did I feel one in the same as her? Did I ultimately just long for friendship? Perhaps seeing the same in her.
"Reasons," I said cheekily. If I was sure of anything in our weird little situation, it's that this girl needs some kindness from the world. Needs a reason to smile here and there. Maybe I do too.
"Am I allowed to know those reasons?" She was a little accusatory in tone, to which I gave her a bright smile.
"I want to be your friend," my heart answers for me, the words leaving my lips while my body gives a nonchalant shrug.
"I don't even know your name," she argues. "And I doubt you know mine." I did know her name. Celeste. I also knew the things her pack mates called her. Runt. Stupid. Bitch. Runt. Useless. Dead weight. Runt.
"Then what's your name?" I ask, instead of giving in on how much I have observed of their group. Of her.
After a moment, "Celeste."
"Is that your full name?" She shakes her head. "Go on then," I encourage with a level of curiosity as to who this girl was before the universe ripped her world away. "What's your name?"
She pauses again, as if she hadn't had to ponder such a thing as her own name in years. If her life were normal, maybe she would have spent years in school writing her full name on projects. Maybe at some point, she would have questioned her name. Maybe she would have researched the meaning behind her name or the history of her family's last name. "Celestial Jacobs." Celestial, it's been awhile since I'd heard such a name. People in my fathers communities bear names such as Celestial. They, he, hold onto the names of the origin of our kind. A sense of pride of where we came from. I wonder which of her parents chose her name and what thoughts they held to give her such a name.
A smile breaks out onto my lips and in a boyish flash, I kneel dramatically in front of her. I take her hand, giving it a dramatic kiss as if I were a boy again, meeting my fathers friends. "Celestial Jacobs, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name is Lycer. I think we can now be considered friends."