I meant every word

Vera

I push the door open and find Noah sprawled across my bed, staring at nothing and deep in sleep. His breathing is gentle, without a care in the world. Seeing him like this brings a warmth to my chest. He's dressed in fresh clothes, probably brought by the warriors who share his build: dark blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. I have to admit, nobody ever made plain look this good.

I don't want to disturb him, so I creep to my bathroom and notice someone's been here. He must have showered and changed right in this room, waiting for me to return.

I start filling the tub with hot water and healing herbs. That should be enough to work out the soreness in my muscles. My body doesn't mend as quickly as the rest of the pack because my wolf hasn't connected with me yet. That's why I've always had to be more careful than everyone else. It's what made me a skilled fighter: while the others didn't worry about their wounds because they'd be fine by morning, I had to think smarter and move faster since I didn't share that advantage. So many times in training, others got hurt in ways that would be fatal for me. For them, training was just practice. For me, it was often a matter of life and death.

I run the shower first, washing every part of myself, clearing away all the grime and dried blood from the day. I had patches of blood, dirt, and goddess knows what else stuck to my skin. My nose wrinkled each time I had to scrub hard to remove them.

Once I'm finished, I lower myself into the bath and sink beneath the water. A sigh of relief escapes me. This is exactly what I needed. I keep everything under except my face, careful of the stitches on my forehead.

I use this time to meditate like I always do, and this time I try to concentrate on the visions or... *dreams*... I had. They feel more like a hazy memory now, and I can sense myself losing them as more time passes. Maybe meditating on them, trying to pull them back, will keep them alive in my mind.

After about twenty minutes of breathing exercises, it's obvious my mind is too exhausted for this right now. I can't recall anything meaningful, only fragments of what I *might* have seen. I know there's some great importance to this, but I can't bring the memories forward no matter how hard I try.

I let another ten minutes pass, then climb out of the tub, dry myself, and put on a red dress, traditional for wolf funeral ceremonies. It's a simple satin wrap dress with short sleeves that falls just below my mid-calf. I stop to look at myself in the mirror, my fingers tracing my face.

I look pretty beaten up. The still swollen stitches on my forehead do nothing for my complexion. I look like a sick orphan from another century. My dark circles stand out more than before, even though I just woke from a very long sleep. How long was I out for, anyway?

I fix my hair quickly, brushing through all the knots and tangles. It looks halfway decent when I'm done, at least it's straight again.

I think about putting on makeup to hide how awful I feel inside but decide against it. This isn't the time to pretend everything's fine. The whole pack feels terrible too, just like me.

When I open the bathroom door, Noah is still sleeping. I consider leaving him here for the whole ceremony. He's been through so much these past few weeks, I'm sure he needs the rest.

As I watch him and weigh my choices, the ceremonial horn sounds in the distance, marking the start of the Pyre ceremony.

Noah shoots up from the bed, quick on his feet, his eyes tired and red.

"Wh—what's that?" He's scrambling to put his shoes on. "Another attack? Vera, where…" His eyes find me.

We stay like this for a moment, him staring at me. I can see the veins in his neck pumping blood fast. His jaw drops.

"Wow..." He manages once he pulls himself together.

I smile gently, enjoying the obvious compliment. Then again, he's my mate. He's not exactly objective about how I look.

I take a few steps to the middle of the room and hold my hand out to him.

"Come on, we have a ceremony to attend. Don't bother with the shoes. You won't need them." All our ceremonies are done barefoot, connecting directly to the ground.

He takes my hand and pulls me close, holding me gently but securely. I breathe in deep, taking in his scent and locking this feeling away in my memory. He smells like the forest, which makes no sense. Nobody should smell like the forest itself.

"I'm so sorry, Vera. For everything. If we hadn't come here, this would have never happened."

I hold him a little tighter.

"None of this is your fault, Noah. Not yours, not Eli's, not Lucas's. Those wolves died with honor, defending their own. That's what this ceremony is about. Not placing blame."

I meant every word. None of the other wolves in the pack felt any different. The truth was, if that thing was out there, there was no promise it wouldn't eventually come for us too.

We stay like this for a while, both of us finding comfort in each other. Then, hand in hand, we walk out of the pack house into the open field toward the pyre.