Everett was playing with the small circular wood chip when it happened.

A sharp pain. It made him sit up straight and let out a small wheezing breath. A short gasp for air as Crylle lurches to the surface. A hollow feeling followed by a strange feeling of emptiness. Something's been torn, but what? It's fading into the background as a new tension is brought to the forefront. Fluttering away, it seems to be holding on, wanting to stay.

A mindlink, broken through death; normally it just snaps and then the feeling of it fading of it from the mind. A gift to Everett of sorts, a release, and an understanding.

Iket and Litae went out to hunt.

Everett clutches one of the wood pieces in his hand, pressing the other to his temple. Like a strong rope being cut, it seems to be fraying, the link starting to fall to pieces as it one end becomes unable to hold it.

"Red... Iket, Litae?" The small pup whimpers, pressing his palms harder into his head, trying to relieve the pressure. It keeps building up, and though he doesn't know exactly what is happening, Crylle understands on an instinctual level. Something is changing, a pack member leaving, a mindlink is becoming non-existent. It makes room for a new series of connections; the pack.

The dissolving of this link with his past guardian makes it easier to form these new connections. For as long as he and also importantly his wolf was determined to focus on Red and only Red, then forming something as deep as a trusting bond with the whole pack is more difficult.

It still hurts to lose someone so close. Though Everett understands only from what his wolf can provide on a primal level, knowledge-based on instincts.

Nya'dein, once again, pulls out her ink slowly and carefully. Be graceful, fluid in movement. Don't be visibly stiff, but stand straight, eyes down. It's never-ending. A constant stream of feedback, so much so she can't tell if it's her mother's voice or her own. Don't let your mind stray, focus. If your mind strays, your eyes can wander. Keep them on the ground unless told otherwise.

Dipping the quill into the black liquid. Everett, that pup, her sister's wish for her to make contact. Tap the end, don't blot. Smooth lines. Not too big, not too small. Too big and it looks bad, too small and some might think we are struggling during our trades. Hand shaking in the slightest, she forces it to go still. Weakness. Always be submissive to the packs higher-ups, but show no weakness to those your loyalties don't lie with. An escape from it all within the pages. Perfecting the art of writing, no criticism, it is safe.

Parchment burns nicely. The words disappear into ashes that can fly away in the winds.

A knot in her stomach pulls itself tighter, a constant presence. Hide it. Don't show. Your father hates weakness. Yet he demands it all the time. Never enough. No, no female could ever be enough for Father. Even Mother treads lightly, carefully. Jumping to obey and rarely even a glance of defiance. Obey. Always obey. It pays to listen. If we don't it's the opposite.

Nya'dein bits her lip. A plan to get this to the pup after putting down the words. The wind seems to whip through the forest, bows bending and swaying. The leaves rustle, as a storm seems to approach. The animals scurry to get to their nests and burrows, making the forest seem alive, yet also very quiet. The grey clouds roll in under the night sky. They block the stars and the moon, encasing the territory in a wall of darkness.

Sit straight! Nya'dein snaps up, her form regaining the perfect posture. She hadn't realized sleep was pulling, slowly wearing away at her. But the moment her mind had come back from the lull of sleep it had caused that reaction. Never stray from the rules.

The candle burns low, the dark forest outside her window beckoning. She could leave. Jump out the window, for it's not too high off the ground, or many run out the door. Then what?

Minimal experience as a wolf, no experience in being alone to survive; pack animals stick together. Yet, Opalescence had done it. Her sister had survived, but Opal—or was it Red—was also special. Moon born, was it? But also a beta. A real beta with the bloodline running strongly in her veins. Nya'dein had heard her mother, when her sister was firstborn, remark on the strange silvery wisps of hair that were among the browns, but as Red had aged they became even subtler.

Love.

Nya'dein loved her sister. Even more so when Seleik was born. When she had shifted, the bloodline became clear, however, she wasn't killed due to Seleik being the clear heir. Thankfully. Still affectionate towards their brother, it was not the same, for the expectations stood so vastly apart.

Elegant strokes, Nya'dein crafts a message on half a page, and one page after another is burned. Don't use too many... it is too noticeable.

Can a pup even understand what happened? What went on?

Sighing, she puts everything away. This would have to wait for another night. Carefully placing everything where it belongs. Everything, everyone has a place. Some just don't know where it is or struggle to accept that is where they are meant to be. Learn yours, Nya'dein. Learn it well and you won't run into trouble.

Climbing into bed, the blanket is light, perfect for a summer night, however, the mind has other plans. Rule after rule is brought up, memories floating into the front of the mind only to disappear just as she grasps it.

A train of ideas on leaving. Getting up and going comes and goes. It weasels its way through her defences and then she dismisses it, only for it to come back again. It seems to want to be thought of, yet she can't bring herself to fully concentrate.

***

Sleep evades me as if it knows I will soon be in a deep deep slumber forever. I wander the night, savouring it all. The branches creaking in the soft breeze and the quiet sounds of the nocturnal animals that come out to play at this time.

The moon is bright in the sky, stars twinkling brightly. The pull that brought me here turns to something that hits me hard; longing. The yearning for a home, a break from this all. A place to belong, filled with light, hope, and love. Sometimes, I feel as if I don't even remember anymore.

Everett, my inkaer, how is he?

A blanket of melancholy falls over me, wrapping me tightly within its folds. It feels like ages since I had the pup in my lap, yet I can remember finding him like it was yesterday.

The winds seem to whisper things that don't make sense. Or rather, they make sense for a moment and then it's like my mind forgets, mixes it up again. Here and there I pick something up that I can understand, but it's the same thing over and over again. This will be there last. The murmur of other tales are washed away, swept up in the gusts to travel far and wide. This will be there last. It's so certain, but is it my own imagination making this up?

This will be there last. It ends with them.

It grows louder, more persistent as the moon reaches its highest peak. The air is thick with news. Visions don't cloud my mind, but I feel them in the air. They crawl along my skin, shimmer before my eyes, but I cannot grasp them. They come as they please, go as they wish. They can't be controlled. They are of the wind and cannot be held if they do not wish to be.

How will I die? It weighs on my mind. Slow and painful, quick and painless? Drawn out or in a flash? I have no doubt that it's my father's hand that will land the killing blow. My mother and sister would never be able to do it. No, they wouldn't... it's Father. He never had a problem before using those claws of his, it won't be different this time. I still have scars to show for his sharp reprimands—mentally and physically. Their faded lines barely visible, but the pain is well remembered. A crystal clear memory, some hurt more than others.

Before I had Lilathia, Nya'dein would help me bandage it up, but it didn't happen as often either. The expectations were lower. The moment I shed my skin and embraced the fur, everything became a matter of obeying.

A struggle of power that I never won.

Maybe I should check on Nya'dein. No, I can't go to the house. Father would be able to scent me, most likely. Especially since, according to Frayler, I have a strange aroma, bittersweet; warm, but harsh and jarring; cold, but not unpleasant. Though it is hard to mask what you yourself can't seem to see. Careful is what I have to be. I can't take my last breath yet, I have to speak to my sister again. Tell her more about Everett and the healing packs. I need to know that I at least tried.

I look in the direction of the territory. Scouts had passed by not long ago, but I had disappeared into the trees by then. They couldn't track me as I was out of their territory and in an unconventional spot. But they must have noticed my scent or perhaps I stayed hidden enough.

A thought crosses my mind, ever so fleeting; it's gone before I even process it fully.

Twirling the wooden flower that lies around my neck, I hold it up close to my eyes. It isn't special in the craftsmanship, but the sentimental value is enormous. Turning it over in my hands, I make a decision.

Slipping to the shadows of the tree branches, way up high, I fear not the height, nor the potential wolves down below. The night is still, a foreboding feeling hanging in the air. The bark is rough against the soles of my feet, but these days they have become used to being unprotected. Where I once would have winced, I move freely now.

The houses are all dark, not a flicker of light. The only sounds are those of the scouts making their rounds and the animals scurrying around in the dead of night. I'm quiet, making no more than a soft thud, no different than a deer taking off or a bird of prey whistling down on their target. Stalking the darkest corners, Lily working her hardest to enhance all my movement and senses.

She's weary, so am I—the feeling of slowing down, but we have to keep going. And so we do.

Perching carefully, I peer at the familiar landscape. My old house. Remnants of memories seem to swirl around the area. Fractured pieces of what my old life was. It is so similar, barely changed. Through the seasons and moon cycles, everything is so familiar, hauntingly so.

I can almost see Nya'dein and I running around after chores—before we had shifted and were fully introduced into shifter life. When we had a young innocence that hung about us in ways we could never know now. Young, naive to the world, sheltered from the pack by our mother. She kept us out of the thick of it for as long as she could. Rules and etiquette taught since before we could speak, but never thrown to the wolves before we had our own claws and fangs to bite back if we so choose. At our own risk, but it was a choice. She gave us that option instead of taking it from us.

Slipping closer, I head towards our old room. It hasn't moved. Not much has changed from what I can make out, only that there is one bed where there used to be two. The old desk is still there along with the chair. Nya'dein doesn't stir from her sleep, but her fingers clutch the blankets tightly.

Even in sleep, confined by the rules. Never moving too much, always being still and silent.

Untying the ribbon, the flower slides off. I turn it over, memorizing it, committing it to my memory. I put the ribbon back around my neck, making a tight knot as not to risk having it fall off.

It's precarious but I reach over, the window open for the warm season, and lightly toss the wood craving onto the desk. It lands with a light click, and I hold my breath. Nothing moves, no sound can be detected within the house. All is quiet, no one heard me. I'm safe for now, but something weighs on me, only growing to be more and more present.

Taking one last look at my last gift, the silhouette of it illuminated by the moon. My heart pounds, but it's better for it to be kept safe with my sister then to be buried in a pile of blood and bone. The ribbon is enough, alongside the memories of my inkaer, my Everett. I can only hope she'll keep it. Hopefully, Father won't find it and take it away, or worst question her on the topic.

***

She isn't here.

It is coming.

The earth hums with a warning, the air whispering that they are approaching. I have to speak to her before they come. I need to see my sister before the war breaks out. Everything forebodes of the great battle to come. It buzzes around, but those that I've watched don't seem to have a clue. The pack is preparing, but they don't know when it's coming.

That it's coming, today.

My blood rushes from my head to my toes, filling me with an energy that propels me forward. Travelling by tree, my muscles were sore from walking all night, but now they are limber and ache free. I've never felt better physically, but the heaviness in the atmosphere is smothering. Head pounding as I focus my full efforts on locating her, Lily surging to the surface to spread out or scenes.

Nya'dein must be at the house. I've gone around the border of the territory, where I assumed she would have been collecting herbs, but the only other option is the house. Unless something has changed, Father hated sending us to the pack house, and preferred keeping us away from the Omegas and others. Even as females, he made sure his family was known to be higher than others.

Higher than those who ranked lower, yet lower, always so much lower than those that towered above. Those whose rank was more than ours on the hierarchy were to be obeyed. The alpha, the males, even those who were subordinates, unless they got on his bad side.

Males... unless an Omega, are always worth more, or so he told us. I have broken free and I must give Nya'dein one last chance like I said I would.

I reach the tree that I sat atop last night. I'm still, looking through the foliage. My scent is covered with plants, but if one was close enough they may realize the bitterness is not natural. Lily surpresses our dominance, letting none of it leak through the cracks. We cannot afford to be found in any way.

She needs to notice me. Just a glance out the window. Her wolf probably gave her a nudge, for it doesn't take too long for her to stare outside. Making a small rustling, I go a branch lower in order to get closer.

Cutting her off before she has a chance to speak. "Nya, they are coming. The war. You need to choose and very soon."

"You need to go!" She stands up, the chair scraping against the floor. Hurrying towards the window she looks out at me. The lily is gone from the desk but she leans on the window sill. "I have it. I'll keep it safe..."

"Thank you. It was from the pup, Everett."

"But you have to go, Opa— Redaliya." Nya'dein stares at me, the fear glistening in her eyes. The words rush out in a hushed voice, "I couldn't find you because Father knows you are here. I'm not sure how, but I'm not allowed to leave the house today. Mother has gone to do my chores that are out and about, while I have to do the cleaning."

"What? How?" Eyes widening at the revelation. He knows I am here. How much more time do I have? "Nya'dein. Nya, I can help you slip away. I can get you across the border and tell you where to go. It's coming. The war, the pack is coming. When they breach the territory lines, you'll never be noticed."

"I don't know, Opal..." Her eyes linger on the forest, her wolf shrinking back into her mind. So timid. Nya'dein opens her palm, looking at her own skin. "I would never survive out there. My wolf is barely even here. I can barely feel her itching for a shift anymore."

Biting my lip, I grip the bark of the branch. Broken, the fur and the skin both broken in different ways. Changing how they perceive the world, curving their minds to fight against their instincts. When one thing is only associated with pain it is only natural to avoid.

"Nya..." I shake my head; I can't force her to go. "You always were so kind to me, Nya. A good sister."

"You too, Opalescence, Redaliya, whichever you go by. Strong and brave."

The more I look at her, the more I see our differences and parallels. We have so many similarities, yet look at how our paths divided, and evolved into something so different.

"Look for a healing pack. If you decide to leave, the three major ones are Vera, Axinla, and Senae. They can help you or direct you to one of the minor ones." I reach out and she meets my hand. Our fingers brush together and I feel the tingle of a familiar family link that used to be. However, now it is barely in existence, only being held together by strands of my curse. "If you decide to go see the pup, ask for Everett Redwulf've or the Wulf've family. Seer Frayler would also be able to aid you. Consider it, Nya. Remember me and what I've told you."

"Of course." Nya'dein rests her other hand on top of mine. "Is this goodbye?"

"Perhaps... You were a good sister, Nya. You'll walk into the moon's embrace one day."