Arriving at the forest entrance, I undress, fold my clothes, and hide them under a bush. I shift immediately, bones cracking, vision shifting. I'll never get used to the feeling. It doesn't hurt anymore, but it's far from comfortable.
My wolf is big—bigger than most females. Almost as big as the males, which used to bother me when I was younger. I wanted to feel small beside them, to feel feminine. My scars, mapping my body, are visible where the fur no longer grows. That used to bother me, too. Now, I just don't care.
My coat is reddish, streaked with brown and white. My eyes are blue, a clear sign that both my parents are dead. I never knew my father—he died before I was born. My mother was killed when I was fourteen, leaving me alone. Three males attacked her. They knew she could conceive, so they took turns with her. I was at school when it happened, and when I came home, she was gone. Weeks later, her body was found in a creek. She had injuries everywhere. The police said they believed she had been raped again and again, then discarded once they realized she couldn't get pregnant.
It was a rough time.
My mother was everything I could have dreamed of—soft, funny, patient, understanding. And she was there. Really there. Until she wasn't. And I had to fend for myself.
No siblings. No extended family. Just me.
That same year, I met Mary and her sister. They were alone too. Together, we found an abandoned warehouse and lived there for almost ten years. It was tough, but we found joy in the little things. Still, I was always looking over my shoulder, terrified the men who took my mother would come for me—or for my friends.
But they never did.
Memories rush through my mind, and my heart pounds. Anger. Sadness. I don't want it. I need to ground myself. Closing my eyes, I breathe in.
The wind runs through my coat, carrying the scent of pine, earth, and water. I still for a second, embracing it. The life. The sound of bugs and birds. The rustling leaves. The damp earth and grass under my paws.
Then, I run.
I don't know where—I just run. I want to escape. Escape a life that isn't a life. A life that doesn't fit, like wearing borrowed clothes two sizes too small.
Leaves crunch. Branches snap. Birds scatter.
My muscles work, my blood pumps. I dodge trees, leap over roots, and push forward until I reach the river. The current crashes against the rocks, merciless and wild. But I know a spot where the water pools into a small, clear basin, untouched by the rush.
I love swimming there. The water is cold. Numbing.
Shifting back, I wade in, naked. Goosebumps spread across my skin. My nipples harden instantly. I'm so pale, I feel almost translucent in the water.
I go under, letting the cold seep into my bones, my hair floating around me. I stay there until I can't feel my toes.
On my way back, a scent slams into me.
It's unfamiliar. Strange.
Coffee. Sunlight. Dark chocolate.
Intoxicating.
My wolf ears twitch, but I don't hear anything.
I want to follow it.
But I don't have time. If I don't hurry, I'll be late meeting Mary. With one last glance toward the scent's direction, I run back to where I left my clothes. I shift, dress quickly, and keep moving. My hair dries in seconds.
Better not to linger. You never know.
Back in the city, the streets are more crowded. People must have woken up while I was in the forest. It's suffocating. Too many bodies. Too much noise. I pick up the pace.
I hate being late.
I hate making people worry.
We already have enough to worry about. No need for unnecessary ones.
Finally, I reach Rose's.
Mary is outside, flirting with some guy. She's laughing, touching his biceps, pretending to be impressed.
"Hey Mary! You ready?"
"Oh, Alee! Yes, yes, I am! Meet Harry—he's Chad's brother!"
"Hi, Harry. Bye, Harry."
"Boooo, what a buzzkill!"
She pouts dramatically before turning back to him.
"Okay, Harry, I'll call you another time! Maybe we'll meet at the gathering? I'll be the shiny, sexy one!"
"Can't wait, princess."
He winks, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Bile rises in my throat. I hook my arm through hers, pulling her away.
She smiles, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk. Slower now.
"I miss her so much," she sighs, her voice small.
I squeeze her arm.
"I know… me too. I'm here for you. You know that, right?"
"I know. But you have your own problems. And I know you're grieving her too. Still… I won't say no to a pajama party."
"Are you working this week?"
"Yeah. I need the money. Andrew keeps bugging me to work next Saturday."
"NO, YOU CAN'T! You NEED to come! If you don't go, I won't either!"
"Relax, I've already said no like a thousand times. And I'm not changing my mind."
I smirk.
"I like gatherings. It's the only thing I love besides you."
I squeeze her arm again.
She laughs, but I can still hear the sadness in it.