Odin's Prize

Retribution

The whirl that makes Charlie hurl.

They love doing this to me; they know how sick I get from being spun around too fast. This goes on until I beg him to put me down because I'm going to puke all over his back. When Keegan does put my feet on the ground, walking a good ten sideways steps before falling because my balance is off.

They think this is so funny, falling into fits of laughter even Shamus is laughing at me with his brothers.

Picking myself up, cleaning the dirt from my clothes. Eyeing each brother up hard, "I'm going to get the both of you, just remember that. It won't happen today, but when it happens, you will know it's me that did it." Saying it low with a depth of threat that , I know they know I will follow through with. I will never let them have the last laugh.

Pointing a finger at their throats, "don't you dare follow me." Making my voice sound as menacing and wicked as I can.

Quickly turning away stomping my feet on the ground, they are going to think hard before following me.

Do they obey my mother or do they risk my wrath by following me? Walking slightly further into the forest more than I should I don't hear my handlers at all, they don't know how to be quiet and just enjoy the woods instead they make such a disturbance that everything ends up hiding away until they're gone.

Their wolves are worse than their skin side, running this way and that way on trails of meat that they are still having a hard time catching.

Getting comfortable on the ground for an up close and personal perspective lets me get good angles of the plant first before I begin to draw the little purple flower with big leaves that only blooms in late fall, early winter.

Lana, the healer, said that it helps with fertility. The flower is picked, dried and steeped into a tea that is very evil to swallow down for a male who is having a hard time making puppies.

Creating my vision of the plant on a white page is almost trance inducing, getting lost in the picture that's being pulled out from space on a page. The simplest act of just moving my wrist slightly here, a swish there, with every line, every detail of the plant placed perfectly on a blank canvas that is labeled with directions of what each part can be used for.

Time has no meaning, getting lost in sketching has gotten me in some trouble at times with my mother.

"I see you're still drawing in that coloring book of yours." The male's voice startles me. Closing my book with the leaf I'm sketching, so I don't lose it.

Standing up slowly, not making eye contact with this male who says he's my mate. I don't believe him because my mate would never be someone like him.

Walking away without a word, all I can hear is how his feet crunch the leaves underneath his footfalls; now he lets me hear the noise he can make in the deep forest.

"Why are you always alone out here?" He's curious as he walks beside me, hands in his pocket.

I don't answer him. Instead, I quicken my pace towards my house.

"Do you not speak? Is my mate a mute?" His voice taunts me.

"I'm not your mate; the moon wouldn't do that to me." Giving him my most grown up serious voice.

"Charlie, I've said the same thing but sadly for the both of us. I am your mate, like it or not I'm stuck with you."

"I think you're lying; I don't feel anything towards you. I think that you're just doing this because your dad doesn't like my dad."