Home is not home

LYDIA

I had taken three rides to reach Nightshade territory and for the rest of the journey, I had to manage my foot. It took two days before I arrived right at the gates of the packhouse that once belonged to my family. It looked so different. Perhaps I had been away too long but I remembered the gates to the iron colored black and wreathed to adorn the passageway of the giant mansion that housed the minimum of fifty important werewolves. The hierarchy went from the Alpha and his family to the beta of the pack, powerful sentinels, Deltas, and of course the elders.

What however stood in front of me was a giant twin oak door that looked sturdy. I rubbed my finger against the smoothened wood and by the goddess, it felt thick. I doubted a single soul would hear me even knock. I didn't let the thought drag me down however. The new gate was probably erected as a better means of protection. I knocked on the door. A task that hurt my hands and eventually a part of the door flicked open.