17

ZYNETH.

Either I was going deaf or having a stroke.

Maybe both.

Their voices were so loud. So loud that I couldn't help but force my ears shut with my hands. Trying not to shift and run off to the wild. I release a quiet whimper filled with anguish as they keep arguing.

Breathe. My wolf murmurs trying to console me. Breathe, slow and steady. You're going to be okay. Zen repeats again, disdain and solemness flowing through our bond but that doesn't really affect me the way that it used to.

Since my sixteen birthday, the day that I got blessed by getting my wolf hide, I had been having...relapses. Nightmares, dreams. Visions of a possible destructive future have chases me since then. I never told anyone besides my mother and father.

And then, my world had shifted.

My parents and family died two years after that and I had seen it in a vividly colored vision, bits and pieces of it sticking to me until I had lived them in real life. It hit me like a train running over me again and again.