Chapter Eight

Rose

It was well past midnight as we continued to scour the village and forests for survivors. Our Alpha was dead, our Luna was dead, our Beta was dead, our warriors were dead, mothers were dead, fathers were dead, children were dead. 

Our pack was a husk of what it used to be. Just thinking of it made me want to sink into myself, shutting out the world. I was lucky. My friends and my parents were still alive. I had never been so glad my siblings had moved onto larger packs, anywhere but here.

When they found my dad, he had already started treating people. Most of the pack that was injured had burns, and luckily they were healing pretty quickly on their own. My arm was almost completely healed, most likely earning my first battle scar. An accomplishment that I had never expected to achieve. 

The worst injuries obtained were of the warriors who protected the pack to the best of their abilities. Matt had some of the worse. The wounds on his back were definitely going to scar him. To the majority of the pack, Matt was stoic and unfazed. In the eyes of Harriet, he was a baby demanding her love and affection. To me, he was just Matt. I was proud of him, though. He was stepping up to be the beacon that our pack desperately needed.

The majority of the village had been devastated by the fires. My feet led me to the little gate in front of the house. I do not know what I was hoping for, but I know I was gutted.

My mom’s gardens, once lush and a tiny sliver of paradise was now encased in ash. I walked through the front garden, and every flower I brushed up against disintegrated before me like the hopes of my eighteenth birthday.

I looked up at my childhood home; the fire had licked the cerulean blue paint turning once a happy color into a dismal crust. The windows were shattered. The whole house was washed in the eerie light of the moon. I used to love being in the moonlight, but at this moment, it was tarnished. Stepping onto the porch, the wood began to creak and moan under my weight. I shouldered the front door open and choked on the stale smoke that still hung air.

Stepping into the house, I wandered around the bottom floor. My soul felt numb as my memories washed over me, knowing that I will never have the chance to create more here. The furniture was nothing but ash. Pipes falling from the ceiling. Holes in the walls. Chunks of the ceiling missing or hanging on by a thread. 

I shook my head as if that would fix everything. I trailed my fingers along what was left of the stair railing as I ascended the stairs. How many times did I blissfully run down the stairs? How many times did I take this house for granted? My train of thought was snapped back to reality as the board I had just stepped on crumbled. I gulped as I jumped back to the previous step before inhaling, trying to pump myself up to continue. I quickly made my way up the stairs trying not to linger for too long on any of the steps.

My bedroom called to me. I knew it wouldn’t be the same. My heartbeat thudded in my ears with every stride. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to psych myself up. I inhaled deeply, knowing I would remember this smell for the rest of my life. I turned the knob and was immediately greeted with a soft breeze coming from the massive hole in my bedroom wall where I was serenaded just eighteen hours ago. My breathing hitched as my eyes drifted to my favorite part of my room, my books. My fingers grazed the spines of my barbecued books. I felt a single tear roll down my cheek as I bid farewell to a precious piece of me. When I looked around at my surroundings, everything hit me, and the grief of everything consumed me.  

“Delilah….Run,” I whimpered to my wolf. She had kept her distance to let me process, but I needed her to take over. I needed her to take control. As soon as those two words left my lips, she took charge. The oversized jacket and basketball shorts I was wearing were instantly shredded. A howl escaped our lips that rang out for miles. A cry of anguish. 

After that, we ran. I don’t know for how long or how far we ran. Delilah let me curl up in the recesses of our consciousness. Eventually, Delilah spoke to me. 

“It’s time to take back control, Rose. I can’t keep running for you.”  With that, I shifted. The sun had already risen, acting as if the horrors of the night had never happened. I looked around, trying to get my barrings of where Delilah had taken us. My ears perked up as I heard water flowing, and I knew where she had brought me.

“Thank you,” I hoarsely whispered to her. I followed the sound of the water to my creek. At this moment, it was the safe haven I craved and needed the most.