Chapter 2

The females smile at me. Accept me. They think that because I don’t want to train, I am accepting my role in staying back, finding a mate, and letting him control my life.

Mate.

I’m not sure I will have one.

Not sure if when he finds me.

He will want me.

I look at their disapproving eyes as they take in my paint splattered hands.

“Layla, why don’t you wash those?” The Luna shakes her head. She doesn’t approve. She thinks I waste my time.

But she hasn’t seen me paint.

I look down at my red, orange and yellow.

Mixtures of brown. Some white can be seen.

Autumn.

I was painting fall.

I look up and smile, “I’ve tried, but it’s so hard to get it off,” the females laugh. The Luna shakes her head but leaves it be.

The truth is I haven’t tried.

Because I like the color.

Because if I wash it away. I’ll see my skin.

And I don’t want to see me and what I hide underneath.

“Layla, can I just say- you look adorable?” I smile at the female. I don’t remember her name.

“Thank you,” It’s a big smile. A smile that stretches my mouth to far. I look down at my wheelie shoes- ones that I roll across the floor in. Reach up and feel my butterfly clip and look down to see purple glitter now mixed in with my paint. My overall shorts with my blue and white triangle shirt underneath.

I dress like a child.

It’s what I think in my mind.

What I think when I look in the mirror.

Not like a 19-year-old girl.

Not like a woman.

It’s my armor.

We continue with our duties- cooking for the warriors, cleaning the pack house and gossiping among ourselves.

I like the company of the females.

I like the peace they bring.

Soon the day is over, and I walk home. I pass the woods and pause, looking into the deep folds.

I don’t feel an urge to go inside.

Don’t feel my wolf inside me wanting to crawl out.

She hasn’t surfaced in a while.

She hasn’t wanted to run within these woods since-

We don’t feel safe in them.

And we probably never will.

The house is up ahead.

I see Hank on the steps.

His face is down, in his hands, while his knee bounces.

Up, down, up, down, up down.

He smells me. Lifting his face into the winds, his nostrils flare as he looks in my direction.

I see a sigh of relief fall from him.

“Hey Lay,” he stands and opens the front door for me, “Dad almost has dinner ready.”

“Thanks,” I smile, flashing my fake grin at him also.