Night Flower
Debora DarkContemporaryWerewolfAlphaLunaMisunderstanding
I let the ambient sounds layer back over me one by one: frogs first, then crickets, then the soft complaints of fish moving in the shallows, then the distant voices of the other kids spreading out through the trees.
My plan was the same as always. Wait to be found. Be discovered as unremarkable. Go home.
Grow up quietly. Maybe teach the little ones someday, marry some decent lower-rank wolf, have a small life of my own design. Keep the Switch as a useful thing, a practical thing, not the center of anything. That was the plan. That's what Mama had done and she was happy and she was good and that was what mattered.
The footsteps arrived before I finished the thought.
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