Under Construction

qotd - Who's your favorite author?

Gif of Nora to the side

I'm changing Larson's character to Iwan Rheon! Sorry I'm changing it soo late!!

Rena's POV***

The next day I'd planned on taking Damon to the spot of chaos in which he'd demanded to see. We walked in a comfortable silence through the white forest.  My mind was all over the place apparently.  I kept thinking about Sunscorch, Larson, my future with Damon and the woman and wolf from yesterday.

Had I stayed in Larson's pack, it's an understatement to say things would be different. I wouldn't know the rights and wrongs of how I was to be treated and I'd still be a doormat. Had I run into that wolf the way I was a month ago, I would've died instantly. 

Would Larson feel guilt when he realized I was gone and how he had treated me? Doesn't he ever wonder what our parents would say if they saw how the pack had been led to into the ground through his leadership?  What if my parents were still here? We'd have the perfect family like we had years ago. 

When my parents died, the pack took it very hard. No one bothered to really check on Larson and I because they were already too busy grieving for their lost leaders. We had gone from loved and cherished children to irrelevant and isolated orphans. I suppose you could say that Larson and I both had our own ways of coping.

As we continued to grow, Larson started to show Alpha like traits. Yet instead of leading the pack, he more so bossed them around. It was as if my title as his sister evaporated into thin air, and I became lesser than the dirt under his paws. The pack saw this as well, but no one seemed to mind. They had their new leader, nothing else mattered. 

The pack saw how their new Alpha had begun to treat me, and because their leader did this they figured it'd be fine if they did too. The teasing was rough considering I was a child, but as I grew, I started to brush them off. When I turned 12 was when the real torment began. 

I'd been stripped away of a real room, leaving me with just a bed and sheets that were made of patchwork and holes. As I reached for a box of cereal in the mornings, it would be knocked out of my hands by the adults, and I dare not try to challenge them over a box of Frosted Flakes. Confused, I'd reach for another snack, only to be screamed at until I began to cry - which angered them even more.

 I remember sneaking a poptart to my room at 2 in the morning, and how the teenager me thrived on the strawberry sweetness. To others, it was a deed that was just about as simple as opening an envelope, but to me I felt as though I'd just stolen from a major bank. I've never tip toed as quietly as I had that day as I crept up the stairs, and into my cubicle of a room. As I'm about to throw away the wrapper, preteen Tawnya walked in and made sure I knew never to take another snack from downstairs again.

From that day forward, I never asked for food, nor dared to open cupboards. I was 14 when I began to lose hope for my future. Now here I am, 5 years later, feeling that locked emotion again. Hope. 

"What are you thinking about?" Damon asked, pausing to stare at me. I jumped, obviously too consumed in my thoughts. 

"Nothing," I said. He crossed his arms, and waited for me to speak. 

"Just my family, that's all," I replied, walking to his side. He sighed and looked at me, not sure of how to respond.

"I wish they could meet you. They would have loved you," I told him with a smile. My mother would've gushed over him in seconds, and my father would've been amicable with him as well. Damon chuckled, and grabbed my hand. I looked down in shock. He was holding my hand. Though we'd kissed and this was such a small notion, I couldn't help the warmth that surged through my cheeks. We began to walk, hand in hand.

"My dad would've liked you a lot. No one has ever put me in place like you did last night and gotten away with it. My dad would've been proud," He said with a toothy grin as he stared into the shrubbery. I smiled to myself. I did good last night in standing my ground instead of standing there with my tail tucked between my legs. I guess I figured if I could take an on an older savage wolf, I could take on an angry Alpha mate.

"What were your parents names?" He asked as we stalked farther through the snow.

"My mom's name was Meredith Blackwell, and my father was Charles Blackwell. Yours?" 

"My mom's name was Karen and my dad's name was Peter," He answered.

"Cool," I replied.

My parents really would have liked Damon and the way he was protective over me. It was such a shame they weren't here to see how good he treated me. 

As we walked, I noticed a fallen tree trunk, sparking my memory. "Stop," I whispered. The sound of our boots in the snow stopped. I couldn't help but stand closer to Damon for a brief second before I let go of his hand and walked closer to the thick log.  It got bigger as I got closer, and I took a peek over it, placing my hands on the bark. It was the slope. Everything was the same except for one thing; no wolf.

"Did it happen here?" Damon asked as he knelt down next to me. I kept my eyes locked on the shaded bushes where the woman hid yesterday. I nodded, and in seconds, Damon hopped over the log and began to trot down the slope. I closed my eyes, inhaled a breath of cold air, and released.

I brought myself over the log one foot at a time, and carefully made my way down. At the bottom, my eyes raced all around.

"I don't even feel the presence of a wolf," Damon said, hands on his hips as he turned to face me.

"Are you saying I'm lying?" I asked, my anger beginning to rise. This was the same clearing, the same slope in which I fell down. 

Damon lolled his head back, then back at me. "No I'm just saying, it's a pretty decent size forest, and I'm sure there are lots of-" I turned around, too frustrated to even look at him right now. I crossed my arms, bit my lip, and held back the tears. One second everything is great, then the next I'm a liar. 

"Rena," He cooed, sounding gentle. 

"Don't touch me."

"Listen I'm an Alpha, I have heightened senses, and I can always tell when there's a wolf around, and I just don't feel anything. No scent, no feeling. There's no smell of blood either," He said.

"I'm not lying," I said and turned around. "I don't think you  are, but it's possible you're getting your spots confused. I'm just trying to make sure, that's all," He reasoned, reaching for my chin, but I jerked my head back.

"I'm not clueless."

"I know you aren't," He replied with confusion in his eyes.

"Then stop acting like I am," I replied bitterly. Uncomfortable by my anger, he rubbed a hand through his hair. "Please don't fight with me," Damon groaned.

"It happened here Damon, I'm sure of it," I told him. He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "Alright." With that, I turned around, staring at the scenery. I began to walk to the spot where the wolf had lain dead. I took another step, getting closer, but a piercing headache made me fall to the ground.

"Rena!" Damon shouted, running to my side. I grabbed my head, feeling like I'd been hit by a bus.

"It hurts!" I shrieked, crouching on my shins, digging my nails into my head. The pain felt like incurable hammers ramming into my skull. I squeezed my eyes, and opened them, staring at the snow in fear. Slight letters began to form on the ground but I blinked and they went away.

"Did you see that?" I wheezed, gathering my breath. I blinked several times. "What?" Damon asked.

"The,"I paused, panting, "the snow."

"What about it? You're not making any sense right now, are you ok?" He asked. 

"Zacariah Creed. Who's that? The letters spelled it out," I said, leaning back on Damon's chest. 

"How do you-"

"I don't know, it just, it was just there and now it's not," I huffed. 

"He's a member of a shady government. He acts as an assassin - as least that's the rumor I've heard. How do you know it said Zacariah Creed?"

"The letters in the snow, I don't know, I don't understand," I said, slowly standing up. Damon grasped my under arms and helped me up.

Damon paused, sniffing the air. He left my side and walked to where the woman hid yesterday.

"She isn't a werewolf," Damon stated. I stared at him. "How do you know? What is she then?"

He frowned and his face become incredibly serious as he turned to look at me. 

"She's a witch."

-

"I don't understand," I said, sipping the warm tea. Aron and Danica sat across from us as we told them what we'd learned in the woods. As soon as we discovered she was a witch, Damon hurried us out of the clearing without much of an explanation. He said he'd have Aron explain we got home.

Aron leaned forward, Danica watching him. "Witches are very powerful creatures, and very few are actually born with the witch gene. It's a race that has most definitely become a minority among ours."

"I didn't even know they existed," I mumbled.

"Yeah well, humans don't think we exist either. I'm sure there are many other creatures that wander and lurk about in the world as well," Danica said, sipping her mug. Aron smiled and grabbed her hand. 

"Okay, so they're dangerous, but so are we," I said, trying to understand.

"Yeah, we're both dangerous, but witches can do things,"  Aron said, nostalgia masking his eyes. Danica frowned and Damon sat back. I stared at them, noticing their demeanor.

"The thing about witches is that they range with their specialties. Ever seen Tinkerbell?" Aron asked. I nodded, thinking about the cute blonde fairy and her friends.

"Each has their own ability and the same can be said for witches. Whether it be in nature, or technology, or life and even death, they all have a specialty. The only time there wasn't was when long ago there was a legend about a witch who had the power to control whatever she wanted, and she was a great menace to the balance of nature," Aron explained.

"The wolf that attacked me last night was fine then all the sudden he just dropped like a sack of potatoes, as though his organs were being twisted inside or he was feeling some sort of a pain," I said as I remembered the terrified and uncontrolled look in his eyes.

"Anatomy perhaps?" Damon asked.

"Maybe. Pain is possible. Misery, even. There are endless possibilities. But what gets me is that the minute you stepped onto the area where the wolf-"

"Zacariah," I cut in, looking down at my fingers. 

"Zacariah," Aron corrected himself, "you ended feeling pain in your head."

"Witches leave things called marks, sometimes unintentionally. It's a sign that they were there in the first place."

"How does that work?" I asked.

"No one really knows. Some think it's the idea of their magic leaving a mark on the world. Some think magic is a give and take. Give some of the world's energy to your magic, and it'll take some back, leaving a mark. All marks are different. This one just so happened to hurt you. I've heard of them just leaving a slight smell around, but you said Damon didn't smell anything. 

"I don't understand who this person even is," I groaned, falling back. Damon smiled and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. I glanced at my feet, feeling self conscious with Danica and Aron here. 

"Whoever it is, is a high class, experienced witch. Witches who are sloppy and careless with their magic are the ones who usually leaves marks, and the ones who don't happen to know how to get rid of it and making sure they were never there in the first place."

"Why would the scent be covered, but the mark was still there?" Damon asked. His question shocked me.

Everyone was silent, unsure of how to answer.

"It's possible that she meant to leave half the mark there. As to who she is, I'm not sure, but she didn't try to harm you, and normally any witch would. They're cunning, smart and manipulative. If she wanted to hurt you, she would've. It's easy to also assume that the letters in the snow were left as a part of her mark for you."

"She wants me to know something, she's leaving clues," I said, rubbing my temples.

"She could also be implanting false ideas-"

"No, no I don't think so," I said, leaning back again.

"What do you mean?" Danica asked, her eyes wide with worry.

"I think she's an ally."

"Rena," Damon sighed, "you can't just make that assumption. We have no idea what her intent is," He reasoned. I frowned. Something about it all just made me feel like she was on our side. Like Aron said, she could've hurt me if she wanted to. She could've made my head explode, or strike me with a lightning bolt for all I knew, but she didn't. 

HI GUYS WEE

okay I'm sorry it's kinda short, but hey I updated kinda fast too  :D

Thoughts about her being a Witch? COMMENT AND VOTE