The Pack Thief

2

Willow's POV

Warmth surrounded my body, coddling me like a baby in a cradle and holding me in a way that only a mother would.  Flashes of her face, her unrecognizable face played through my mind.

Her true face wasn't there. But I could see it. I could see beneath the sheet of blankness, like I was staring at an old friend. I knew her so, so well.

The faceless woman stroked my own face, her smile taking up the existence of her face. There was an overload of wholesomeness. She was kind, but she was there one moment then gone the next then there again. A stranger that I swore I knew.

Her soft eyes warmed my soul.

I was so soothed.

So unaware.

Until she was gone.

Until there was nothing but a canopy above my heavy eyes.

A deep purple canopy. Such a noble color. So beautiful, so unique. It brought peace into my frazzled mind, lulling my tired body back to the woman who I'd only just met.

It filled me with relaxation. Until it didn't.

The momentary heaviness to my eyeballs disappeared the instant that my memories resurfaced. I was running for my life from wolves attacking my adoptive pack. Then I hit something. I hit something and my entire body shattered.

How was the pain so horrible? Why did it now seem so distant?

It was so surreal that I almost believed it to be a dream, that is until a heavy ache confirmed the truth. All of it was real, none of it was fake.

The disorientation was wiped from me like fog from a bathroom mirror.

I went to sit up, perhaps a bit faster than I should've. I was met with the shattering reality that made me nearly throw up. My ribs were on fire, hell everything was. I gasped as I tried to shift around, only intensifying the feelings of discomfort. What once seemed so distant, had bull dozed into me.

I bit my lip to silence my cries, and I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could. For a long moment, I had to breathe. I had to do so to prevent myself from blacking out. I was so close to doing so.

Breathe in for four seconds.

Breathe out for five seconds.

Repeat.

I did this several times, until I was able to manage my pain without losing myself to it. I opened my eyes, the scene around me once again coming into play.

Where was I?

I wasn't anywhere familiar. The room, the bed, even the atmosphere was too nice to be my old pack. And even if it was, they wouldn't ever let me step foot in such a nice place. I was the equivalent of pond scum back home. In fact, the pond scum might've been treated better than I was.

And the bed I was in, it was so comfortable. So deep and so plush. It was the kind of bed that swallowed me whole. That thought alone had me flinging myself from the bed against my better judgement.

More waves of pain hit me as my body hit the polished wood beneath me. I stifled another cry, my head momentarily light as I briefly saw stars. The morbid agony had me on the verge of blacking out, I just knew it. And yet that didn't deter me from forcing myself to my feet.

Fighting against every ounce of discomfort I was feeling, I moved through the large, Victorian styled room and towards the door. My body was on fire with each painstaking step, almost as if I was stepping on glass. The pain was fighting against me, and I was fighting against it.