Paths of red on a ground of white.
Streaks of lightning against the dark sky.

That's how they looked like.

Three lines slashed through my back, running from my right shoulder to my left hip. I traced the one in the middle with my finger, the ruined flesh cold under my pad. I shivered. The one I was touching was the longest. Probably even the deepest. The other two were half its size.

I scanned myself in the mirror, my fingers still skimming along the edges of my scars. Scars.
Damn, I could kiss goodbye to backless dresses. The thought almost made me laugh out loud. I didn't care what kind of clothes I couldn't wear because, from now on until death, I would have a tale of victory on my back. Forever.

I wasn't the only one assessing my image. Lupine eyes were watching too. Lupine eyes made of gold.

My wolf was proud. Ruined flesh meant nothing to her. Honor and glory, however, did.
And we carried the proof of them on our skin.
Feeling her presence again felt like a blessing. Like being whole once again. When she had reappeared two days ago, making tentative steps in the back of my mind, I was still dozing in bed. At the image of her, unharmed and alive, I had cried out, tumbling on the ground. Hercules had come running from downstairs, finding me sprawled in a mess of sheets, tears falling from my eyes. His expression had been one of pure worry until I explained to him, between sobs, that my wolf was back. He had then picked me up from the ground, gently placing me in bed again. I had probably scared him for his life as he came to check on me more often than necessary.

Three days had passed since I had woken up.
My bones had rearranged themselves and the minor wounds I had sustained healed nicely, leaving no scars behind. The gashes on my back had closed off the second day of me being awake and Hercules had extracted the stitches one by one, following my instructions. There were no words to describe how grateful I was to him, for everything he had done.

We had fallen in a pretty easy routine, even if sometimes his caregiving tendencies were a bit overbearing. Despite that, I had found myself enjoying his company. It had been hard to make him stop fussing and to convince him that I was starting to feel fine. Some threatening might have been involved. Flashing eyes, bared teeth and some growling might have been involved too. Not in a display of power though. It had been something more in the shape of a casual banter, of a cautious dance to test the new boundaries set between us. Something had shifted in the last days, moving the lines that had already changed during my Heat. As if we were...friends.

Not once did he leave the cabin. When he was not tending after me, he worked from here, papers scattered on the kitchen table downstairs. When I had been finally able to stand and walk by myself, I started joining him downstairs. The first time he had seen me on the steps, book in hand, he almost had an heart attack. That had been one of the times snarling and bared teeth had been involved. Needless to say that, in the end, I had won, accommodating myself on the couch. We kept company to each other like that, in silence, him working and me reading or doing research. I even had the occasions to notice little things about him: how he scrunched up his nose every time he read something he didn't like in the reports, how he didn't like to eat raw tomatoes - that according to him were "slimy as snails" -, the way his hair fell all over his head in the evenings and the neat freak that he was. At night we shared the bed, but ever since the first night, when we had fallen asleep holding hands, there had been no touching involved. No mentioning of it either.

Today, however, he would move out, returning to his quarters in the pack house. I was fully healed, apart from some sporadic bursts of pain, so there was no need for him to stay here anymore. Half of my mind was telling me that I would miss his company. The other half couldn't wait to be alone again. It was impossible to understand which part was winning over the other. Not that I was curious about it. Or perhaps I was. A little bit at least. Today was even the first time he went back to work in his office upon my insistence. He had been missing for six days straight. His pack needed him.

He had the audacity, though, to ask me to stay inside and rest. As if. After having spent the past days in bed, I couldn't stay still anymore. I needed to go out. I needed fresh air. And painkillers. Casting a last glance towards the mirror, I padded towards the bedroom. Some fabrics still hurt against the fresh scarred tissue of my back, so I settled for a jersey top and a pair of yoga pants.

Spring air kissed my face and I closed my eyes, basking in the warm sunlight coming from above. Last time I had been out, I nearly died. An humorless laugh broke out of me. I was alive and breathing. And with two pelts to collect. I went down the path towards the pack house, listening to the sounds of nature coming alive around me. I could smell no scents apart from Hercules' one, by now so familiar that I could recognize it everywhere. I didn't know what to expect from the pack members upon my arrival. I had won the Hunt. I had saved one of them. And they might have understood that I was their Alpha's mate. Chances were high that they had. Hercules had never brought the topic out again, but I had seen the torn look in his eyes when he thought I wasn't paying attention. We had to talk, but I was a coward.
Ignoring the sword looming over our heads was easier than facing it. Especially now, when we had barely started to get along and the lines between us were still blurred.

The pack house appeared in the distance at the same moment my lower back started to burn. Damned bear. I really needed those painkillers. I passed the tree line, aiming directly for the infirmary. There weren't many wolves around, but the few there were all stopped their tasks to stare at me. I felt my throat close up, a weight settling on my shoulders and chest. I kept walking, head held high, even if their eyes never left me.

Let them watch.
Let them judge.
I do not care.
I do not care.
I do not care.

My back hurt, but my shoulders were back and my spine straight. Step after step, I got closer to them. Step after step, my heartbeat rose in tune with the sound of my feet hitting the ground. Until I reached them.

They did not sneer. They did not bow. They did not call me titles.

One by one, they brought two fingers to their forehead and then to their cheek. I stared at the wolves, unable to comprehend the meaning behind their gesture. Until one of the them, a female with hair the same shade of wheat, slightly bowed her head at me. Then I understood. They were thanking me. I nodded back, heart still hammering in my chest, and left them behind. When I entered the infirmary there was none in sight. I closed my eyes, willing my heart rate to slow down. It had gone fine. Better than expected. But they were few out of many many more. Losing a breath, I willed my legs into motion. Robert was in his study, head bent on paperwork. I knocked on the open door and, upon seeing me, surprise lighted up his dark eyes.

"Lara! Alpha told me you were doing better, but I did not expect you so early."

"Long bed rest is not for me."

He assessed me head to toe, analyzing every spot where I've been injured. His gaze focused on my arms, then switched on my stomach and finally on my shoulders.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. But my back is still giving me Hell."

"Do you mind if I have a look?"

At my negative response, he stood up, rearranging the lapels of his coat. I turned, lifting my top and showing him my back. His breath itched. He had seen them open and bleeding. He had seen my flesh torn and raw. And he had fought to put me back together. I felt him move behind me and braced for what I knew was coming. His hand was cold against the burning skin of my back, his finger gentle on the first scar. It was a featherlight whisper of a touch.

"They healed...nicely."

I barked out a laugh, lowering my top.

"You can say that they're orribile. I know they are. But they are a part of me now. Mine."

His eyes were unfocused, as he was still seeing the three angry lines forever embedded on me.

"Robert."

He looked at me.

"Thank you. For everything. You saved my life that day. And I'll be forever grateful to you."

He shifted on his feet, as if he hadn't expected to receive my eternal gratitude. As if I would take for granted what he had done.

"I did have some help."

I knew he had. Hercules had brought me here. Hercules had restrained me while Robert was busy rearranging my bones. And then he had snapped. And Robert had been the one kicking him out of the infirmary. He had seen Hercules' fit of rage. I was certain he understood the reason behind it. Robert was a smart male with keen eyes and a sharp mind. There was no point in pretending with him.

"So now you know you heard right on the first day I arrived here."

He knew what I was referring to.

"I may be getting older, but my hearing is as sharp as ever."

The right side of my mouth curled up. What a sassy male. There was a reason why I liked him after all. I waited for him to add more, but he didn't. He only placed his hands in the pockets of his coat. I needed to say something. I needed to break the silence because it was starting to get uncomfortable. But then he spoke.

"Some scars run deeper than flesh and bone. Most of the times they are the ugliest, better to be left alone and never brought back to the surface. Sometimes, it's not even our fault for how we decide to react to them. Just make the right choices for you, Lara. The choices that resonate with you. Not somebody else."

My chest constricted both at the words both at the warm tone he had used. He was not judging me. He was empathizing with me, without even the proper understanding of my past. He was supporting me. He was supporting my choices.
My throat closed up, making me unable to speak. I just nodded my head, hoping he would understand. He did.

Thank you.

Robert turned his shoulders on me, walking towards his desk. I took that time to compose myself, swallowing the lump blocking my tongue.

"I actually came here hoping you'd have some painkillers for me. I finished the ones I had."

"Sure, I'll pick them for you. Need something else?"

"No, thank you."

I watched as he disappeared behind a white door, reappearing moments later with the painkillers in hand. He handed them over and I took the little box.

"I'll come back tonight to get back to work. I still need to check on Sarah and talk to Hercules about the trip to Alaska."

That wouldn't be a pleasant conversation, but at least we could be angry at each other from different houses tonight without risking to damage my beloved cabin. Again.

"You need to rest Lara. Don't overwork yourself."

"Not going to. I've over-rested, not overworked myself. I need to do something or I'll go crazy."

Robert smiled and slightly shook his head, lifting his hand in the air.

"Fine. Your choice, eh? Let me walk you to the door."

I followed him down the corridor, my back burning a little more with every step I took. I couldn't wait to take a tablet to placate the fiery pit of hell currently feasting on my skin. Robert opened the door for me and I thanked him, stepping outside.

And then froze.

A crowd had gathered in front of the infirmary.

A crowd of werewolves.

They were at least sixty.

And they were staring at me.

Robert joined them and I snapped back to reality, assessing the situation. My eyes scanned the wall made of bodies in front of me, looking for possible ways out. There were none. My body tensed, my wolf standing alerted in the back of my mind. The only possible way out was through the infirmary behind me, but they were still too many.

Too many, too many, too many

Then I saw him. Hercules. Flanked by Cameron, Nora and Sean. The whole Inner Pack. The highest ranking wolves. At the image of them, at the image of him, my body slightly relaxed, but my mind remained in high alert.
What did they want? Why were they here? Why so many...

Then, one by one, from low ranking wolves to high ranking wolves, the members of the Silverblood pack brought two fingers to their forehead and then to their cheek.

I looked at Hercules and found him doing the same. His eyes stayed on mine while he touched his forehead and then his cheek with his slender fingers.

He was thanking me.
So was Nora. Cameron. Sean.
And everyone else.

Me.
A lone wolf.
A human turned werewolf.
An abomination.

My legs quivered, but I willed them to stay strong. To support me. I held my head high, masking my raging emotions. I did not know what to say. I did not know what to do. I only knew how to fight. How to survive. I did not know how to peacefully interact with a group of wolves.

Two figures detached from the crowd, walking towards me. A female and a male. Both dark skinned, both wearing braids in their hair. The female was limping, finding support for her weight on the towering male next to her. The closer they got, the more I could discern the shared traits and features. Siblings. They stopped in front of me and it was the female who spoke.

"I owe you my life."

So this was the female I had saved. "Grace" had called her Hercules.

"You don't owe me anything. I did what was right. What everyone would have done."

My voice came out surprisingly steady, even if I was feeling anything but. Her eyes shone and I was mesmerized by the beauty of them.

"Not everyone. I'll forever be grateful."

She moved forward, helped out by her brother. I did not shrink back from this interaction. Her cheek pressed against mine. I pressed mine back.

Respect.

The heat of her body disappeared. With a last nod and a last mouthed "thank you", she joined the gathered crowd once again.

The wolves were still watching.

That night, I did not go back to the infirmary.

The Silverblood pack threw me a feast.

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For you, I tried