Victorian

Looking over at Martha made me feel even sadder because she was at an age where I had been everyone's favourite back at home. An age where I was not allowed to raise a finger in order to reserve all of my strength for shifting into the ultimately powerful wolf that I was supposed to shift into.

But there Martha stood, always being so nice and sweet and kind to me. Being my confidant and everything in between. Someone young enough to understand how difficult navigating teenage life was, but too young to offer any real insights on life.

I cried harder and even more piteously, and it seemed to break Martha's heart, because she ran to my side and held my shoulders in a weird hug. It was not a full hug, but it felt so safe and warm that I felt I was going to choke from how hard I cried. I emptied all of my soul's burdens in Martha's arms.

I did not know that the sobbing voice was not mine, until I was quiet for a bit. Then I realized that Martha was crying too. I pushed her off and got