One day can change everything
***
This will probably make more sense if you have read 'Moon Child' so I apologize in advance to you readers who have not read it
I never believed in the fate that wolves spoke of when they discussed mates.
I never thought there was any 'other world forces' or 'each path was meant to cross'- 'things happen for a reason.'
I never believed in that.
But I'm not sure anymore.
To explain the whole story- I'll start with this.
I've only ever seen Atlas cry twice within my whole life.
The first, however- were not tears of sadness.
It was when Daisy had first made her appearance back.
When Jay was sick- dying and upon death's door.
Even when I watched my Alpha sit for hours at his father's side, talking to a man who no longer knew his face- he never once shed a tear.
Instead, his features grew harder and harder.
Until that day.
He let her upstairs and showed her to her broken mate. The results of their chaotic love.
And then he softly walked outside.
The calm was unnerving.
Deadly.
I stood there, tense and watching for what he would do next.
I think I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Atlas walk towards the woods.
Good, I thought, he's going to let out some of his energy. He's going to shift.
Instead, he walked up to the nearest trunk and started to repeatedly, without mercy, hit it.
Over and over, pounding the flesh of the bark, ripping it to shreds until his knuckles were bruised and hands were bloody.
I couldn't stop him.
I didn't even try.
And then he fell.
His forehead hit the tree on his way down, chipping just the side of his right eyebrow.
And the sight still sends shivers down me as he slowly got up- blood trickling down his face and splattered on his hands and shirt.
Without a word just holding the broken trunk, he had destroyed and staring at it as if in some way he could see his own reflection in it.
I stood on the porch, still watching. That was when I saw the tears.
The tears of anger.
Rage.
I could scent, feel, almost taste the pure unclouded feeling of bloodlust coming off of him.
He wanted to kill.
He wanted to rip apart the world in that moment as the world sat upon his shoulder, crushing him with its weight.
I stood upon the porch. Waiting.
Waiting for his order. I would kill for him. I would do anything for him.
He was my Alpha.
But he never gave me an order that day.
Instead, he remained silent, as he stared at the broken flesh.
---
Atlas grew more silent after that.
If the thought was even possible.
He grew more angry after that.
If the thought was even possible.
And he avoided the two like his life depended upon it.
I felt anger.
Anger at Jay for what he was doing also to his son.
I couldn't understand the thoughts of the former Alpha.
I loved Jay- he had always been there for me since he was my godfather.
But I couldn't stay near him anymore because I couldn't look him in the face.
The face that now showed clear eyes and a smile.
A smile I had never seen before on Jay's face.
A smile Atlas had never been able to put on his father's face.
A smile that only she could bring out.
Jay seemed to be so caught up in the idea of her appearance, that any other thought of anyone else left his mind- even his own son.
I felt anger.
Because though Atlas had promised Jay that he would never leave him.
Jay made no such promise.
So I watched with anger as Atlas stood to the side- watching in the silence of the darkness as he relived the memory of being left behind.
Only this time it was not one parent.
It was both.
My own mother was angry.
She hated this Daisy with a passion I had never seen before.
I had to keep my hands full guarding the pack house at some points because she would try to break in to strangle the female's neck.
The whole pack hated her.
So the ultimate decision was made for them to leave.
So they left.
The final nail in Atlas's coffin.
So he left also.
Without looking back.
To a camp with no females because I think, even the sight of me, his own Beta, had him seething in anger.
Until that day.
That day, months later when I received a short, curt call from my Alpha.
Saying he had found his mate.
I remember putting my head on the table, clutching the phone so hard with my hand. And the first thought that filtered through my mind was, "that poor girl."
She was different though.
Oddly enough, the first time I saw her, my thoughts went to the image of a flightless bird.
Something that could be beautiful in the sky, but instead was clipped to forever stay on the ground.
I think, in a way, Atlas saw that same image also.
But unlike me, he didn't see clipped wings- he saw broken pairs.
And I think, he made it his mission after that- to fix them.
Paint?
I had never heard of paint before.
Not like she used them.
I thought of paint for war and battles- or for a quick layer on a house.
But paint?
She used them on paper to create images.
It was foreign and vague and I had no idea what fascinated one so much to keep doing it.
But I knew, upon instinct, that this girl needed it.
Like how Atlas needed to train to keep his rage inside, this girl needed to paint to keep her sorrow inside.
Because she had sorrow.
Her eyes were broken.
Clipped wings.
It was almost funny, in those first few weeks, to watch Atlas.
His flustered movements and confused looks.
I watched down the hall with a smile as I took in his deep breaths of courage while he stood in front of her door one day.
Courage to ask her to move into his room with him.
He hated everyone but her.
And it was a beautiful thing to be loved in a world where someone hated everything else.
I've only seen Atlas cry twice within my life.
The second time was that day.
That day when they found her.
Not even on the day when she had been taken.
Not even on the day when we went to the sight of the abduction and took in the dead bodies of our pack warriors.
Not even when we found small drops of her blood.
Not even when we scented her own father.
Not even when we lost the scent because it had been covered by another skilled warrior.
I've only seen Atlas cry twice within my life.
The second time was when he held a phone to his ear, cradling it like it was his saving grace.
As the voice on the other side said, "We found her."