After the lunar goddess turned her back on her children, the wolves of the modern world have had to adapt. Artificial mating bonds were created and many young wolves are now arranged to mate with those selected by their elders. As is the case for Ba...
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The sound of howling and screaming rings in my ears. It's loud enough to break glass but all I can do is grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut. I don't know how low the tortured sounds hang in the air but it feels like a lifetime before they finally fade, leaving behind nothing but deathly silence.
With a racing heart, I open my eyes and blink a few times, allowing my sight to adjust in the dark. It takes a moment but slowly I can make out the many little branches of a bush surrounding me. I shift my weight and one pokes me in the ribs along with a...an elbow. Something warm rests against my back, expanding and shrinking with heavy breaths.
I move around, get stabbed by several more twigs, and hear an "ow" when my knee meets another solid body. But once I'm fully turned, I find the faces of the four boys I've always considered my brothers huddled behind me. Their youthful faces look like they've seen more than any eight-year-old should.
Fang and Ozzy sit side by side, sandwiching the others between me and them. Their eyes are a mirror image of each other, swirling with anger that just barely hides the fear deep down. Silas is closer, most likely the one I hit with my knee. His head is dropped, shaggy reddish-black hair covering his face but I can feel him shaking against me. Beside him, Nico sniffles before quickly wiping the back of his hand across his eyes and creating another smudge of dirt to match the rest on his face.
But there are no tears. No crying or screaming or howls of sorrow from anyone. Just wide eyes...waiting...looking at me for answerings.
What if I don't have those answers?
My stomach twists with that thought, and for a second I think I might puke. Though the emptiness in my stomach reminds me there's nothing left for me to throw up. We've been hiding in these bushes since...
Mom...
I want my mom...
"Tripp," Silas whispers, his mismatched eyes peeking through the hair in his face. "What do we do now?"
It's the same question on all their faces...and it's up to me to do something. I look down at my small dirt-covered hands.
I'm just a kid.
Looking back at each of them, I pray to the goddess that I can think of something. Though the longer I go without answering, the more fear I see in their eyes until that same feeling is filling me up inside. It takes so much space there isn't even enough room for the air in my lungs.
What do I do?
How do I protect them?
How do we survive?
I'm drowning in questions and expectations. It's choking me.
