Chapter Two - Dakota

Reuben stood before the Alpha and told him I was to blame because, instead of raising the alarm as I was trained to do, I had ignored the Rogues and continued playing with the small lambs in our barn. He stated that if I had acted sooner, they would have been able to save my Mama. It was all lies. I had tried to find them, but they refused to leave the women who were pleasuring them until it was too late. No one in the Pack wanted to listen to the cries of an innocent child, least of all a half-breed bastard runt like me. I was nothing, and they all instantly believed the word of the high-ranking Beta's son over my pathetic excuses.

He dragged me in front of Alpha Reynolds and laid the blame firmly on my young shoulders, and the rest of his Patrol backed him up. I never stood a chance against their lying words. I truly believe that it was only because I was such a young child that the Alpha did not bring himself to murder me in cold blood and instead allowed me to live. He glared down at me, curled in a whimpering ball at his feet and sadistically informed me, without any mercy in his icy voice, that what I had done was so abhorrent, I would not be given the status of a servant; instead, I was to be their slave. I would have no status within the Pack, and all my Pack rights were removed; I was less than nothing, and the Pack could treat me anyway they pleased. He told me I had a week to learn the difference between servant and slave and explain it to him, or he would beat me. I learned what that difference was, but he still beat me so severely I could barely walk the next day. It was a hard lesson for a frightened, betrayed little girl, but it had been repeated regularly ever since; it never mattered what I said or did, I always received that beating. I was the lowest of the low, and like all predators, they took great delight in torturing their prey. I quickly became the outlet for their temper; whenever one of them had a bad day, they took it out on me.  I was a small, half-starved, helpless child, no match for those big, powerful wolves, but it did not stop the slaps, spankings, and, as I grew older, punches I received. My tiny body was always covered in dark blue bruises, and I was a regular visitor to the new Healer to have my bones fixed when one of them went too far. 

My life has been a living hell ever since that fateful day. I was put to work instantly, and I soon discovered it was in my best interests to learn quickly; every mistake I made was met with severe instant punishment. I had to learn to survive alone; no one would ever come to my rescue, it was me against a whole Pack of powerful, intimidating Werewolves. I learned to scrub floors until they shone, to cook and clean up after the hundred or so Pack Members who lived in the Mansion House, as well as a hundred and one other chores the Luna chose to drop on my small shoulders.  I was a pariah; they all hated me, totally believing I had been capable of what I was accused of, even though it was completely ridiculous and as the years passed, they embellished my crime until the myth was perpetuated that I had actually murdered my own mother. 

Somehow, I survived their brutality and learned to make myself invisible, and I could move through the Pack House like a wraith, never making eye contact and moving on silent bare feet. It was no surprise to me that when I hit puberty, the time when all young Werewolves learn to shift into their wolves, nothing happened to me. I was half-starved, consistently bruised from numerous beatings and worked until I dropped with exhaustion.

'What wolf would want to claim me anyway?'

I thought as I curled on my mattress and wrapped the scratchy blanket tighter around my shivering body,

'They would not want a useless halfbreed runt like me.'

I stuffed the blanket into my mouth to hide the broken sobs coming from my tired, aching little body. It had hurt me so much to find out that the scornful remarks of the Pack members were true. I was a pathetic halfbreed human, and it gave them another excuse to abuse me further. Life wasn't fair, I knew that more than any of them, but surely the Moon Goddess would not be so cruel as to leave me without my wolf.

'Haven't I suffered enough?'

I cried helplessly, feeling more defeated than ever, but when I woke up the next morning, for some reason, a new determination settled into my mind. 

'I would survive this Pack, and when I was eighteen, I would find a way to escape and live my own life even if it meant going rogue.' 

I thought as I began my daily chores, I was fourteen, small for my age and undeveloped, as I was rarely given enough food, I existed on the scraps the Luna would allow me at the end of each day. I was not allowed to eat any food without her permission, and she took great pleasure in using even the slightest misdemeanour to deprive me of even that. I worked so hard that I developed muscle after muscle in my legs, back, and arms, with all the lifting, bending, and carrying I had to do. My physical development was slow, but eventually I did grow breasts like every other female, and my hips and waist became more defined. I had hip-length red/gold hair that I kept braided, as the Luna threatened to cut it off if I didn't. It was my one source of pride. When I washed it and brushed it out, it glittered like summer sunshine and framed my heart-shaped face beautifully. I had unusual golden eyes flecked with emerald green and full, cupid-bow lips, but I was totally unaware of how pretty I was growing, mainly because I was constantly being told how ugly and disgusting I was.