My life

Autumn

I used to believe my life was simple but fulfilling. As the daughter of a farmer, my days were spent surrounded by golden fields, the scent of freshly tilled soil, and the warmth of my family’s love. Hard work was a part of our existence, but we never complained. My father always said, “The land gives to those who respect it.” And we did.

I was 23, an omega by birth, but I never let that define me. My parents ensured I received a proper education, encouraging me to study Agricultural Soil Science so I could contribute to our farm. They believed knowledge was as valuable as labor, and I took pride in learning everything I could.

We were part of the Dim Light Pack—one of the smallest and weakest among werewolves. Unlike the warriors and hunters who thrived on strength, our people found purpose in the land. My parents, both omegas, had no desire for power or conflict. Instead, they were passionate about farming and cultivation, believing that survival wasn’t just about fighting but also about nurturing.

My father, a man of vision and quiet determination, gathered those who shared his passion. With their skills and hard work, they approached the Alpha of that time, requesting permission to settle separately and focus solely on agriculture. In return, my father promised to provide fresh vegetables and crops for the pack, ensuring that even the warriors had access to the nourishment only human-like sustenance could provide.

The Alpha, seeing the benefit in such an arrangement, granted his approval. And so, my father led a group of farmers to a secluded part of the territory, deep within the forest. They cleared the land, turning what was once untouched wilderness into thriving farmland.

It became more than just a settlement; it was our home, a place where we lived in harmony with nature, away from the power struggles of the pack. We weren’t strong in combat, but we were strong in spirit, building a life with our own hands.

For years, it felt safe. Stable. A life worth living.

At that time, my mother was pregnant. Despite the hardships of building a new life in the secluded forest, my father worked tirelessly to ensure our future. He built a modest house with three bedrooms, a place meant to shelter not just my parents and me but also the child they were eagerly waiting for.

8 years later, my younger sister, Hanna, was born. She became the light of our home, bringing laughter and warmth into our simple yet fulfilling lives. My parents loved us deeply, and though we didn’t have much, we had each other.

As a child, I never questioned the decisions made for me. My father, believing in stability and security, arranged my marriage early on. He chose William, the son of his close friend, someone he trusted. The engagement was settled, and from a young age, I knew that one day, I would be William’s wife.

I accepted it without complaint.

My father and mother believed in education, not just for me but also for Hanna. They wanted us to have choices in life, to be more than just omegas following the pack’s traditions.

Since I was deeply interested in cultivation, I pursued a master’s degree in Agricultural Soil Science. I wanted to understand the land better, to improve our farming techniques, and to help our community thrive. My father was proud of my decision, always saying that knowledge and hard work were the greatest tools anyone could have.

William, on the other hand, was nothing like me. He had no interest in farming or studies. He loved fighting, training relentlessly to become a warrior. He was one of the strongest in our pack and, more importantly, the best friend of our new Alpha.

Unlike the previous Alpha, who supported my father’s vision, the new Alpha had different priorities. He spent money recklessly on things that held no real value—luxury, entertainment, and power displays that did nothing to strengthen the pack. My father worried about the shift in leadership, but as mere omegas, we had no voice in pack matters

William and I never talked much. Despite being engaged, we were practically strangers. I knew little about him beyond the fact that he was a warrior and the Alpha’s closest friend. He had his own world—one that revolved around battles and power—while mine was rooted in the soil and the simple life of farming.

Our village thrived on agriculture. My father’s vision had turned into a success far greater than we had expected. We cultivated a variety of vegetables and spices, selling them not just within the pack but also to humans. The earnings were more than we had ever imagined, bringing us financial stability.

Our success didn’t go unnoticed. Many people—both from our pack and beyond—came to purchase and place orders for the crops we cultivated. Vegetables, spices, and grains from our land became highly sought after, and demand kept growing.

With my father leading and the hardworking farmers by his side, our small agricultural community flourished. The income we generated was far beyond what we had ever expected, making us one of the most financially stable groups within the pack.

As word spread, more omegas and even some lower-ranked wolves were drawn to us. They saw farming as an opportunity for a better life, a way to gain independence rather than being treated as mere servants or weaklings.

I took it upon myself to train them, sharing the knowledge I had gained through my studies. I taught them how to analyze soil, determine the right amounts of biofertilizers, and experiment with different techniques to increase crop yield. Watching them learn and grow filled me with pride.

We were no longer just a group of simple farmers. We had built something strong, something valuable.

But in a world ruled by power and dominance, strength was often seen as a threat.

And soon, our prosperity would put a target on our backs.

But prosperity often attracts greed.

At the time, I didn’t realize how much this change would cost us. How the new Alpha’s greed would set into motion the tragedy that would shatter my world forever.