When I was seven, I asked my Mom for a new bike. I wanted this bike more than anything, convinced it would solve all of my child-like problems. Bright pink with waves of gentle orange, bright streamers dangling from the handles, and a large wicker basket on the front. I had begged and pleaded, negotiated and screamed until I was blue in the face.  Mom had already gotten me a bike two months ago, a present for my birthday. She couldn't understand why I needed another; what importance that bike held in my child-like mind. Another month had passed, my begging and pleading only growing worse. Her and Dad were often on the same page, agreeing over just about everything. My begging and pleading had cracked Dad's willpower. He asked Mom if we could get me the bike. Dad understood as he always did. He understood what that bike meant to me, understood my childish reasons behind wanting it in the first place.  Mom was solid in her resolve, but suggested a s

Joining training had given me a renewed sense of purpose. Instead of thinking about what I had lost, I filled my mind with thoughts of tomorrow. I waited for the fear to consume me at any moment, realizing I had made a horrible mistake in joining. When the fear refused to settle into my bones, I found myself surprised and relieved.  With something new to fixate on, the tears that waited behind my eyes began to fade and I found myself enjoying my day with Tyra and Nicki. "See, nothing a good old girls' day can't fix." Nicki shrugged, examining her freshly painted nails. A smile of approval formed on her face, and she held them out for me to see.  "Their beautiful." I nodded, taking my wolf's advice to remain in the present. "But how do you fight with fake nails on?"  "Very, very carefully." Nicki rolled her eyes, "You wouldn't believe how many times I've chipped a nail." "Were werewolves, Nicki." Tyra rol

I attended dinner that night with Liam and his family, making idle small talk while my mind was elsewhere. The roasted chicken and potatoes on my plate tasted like ash, as most food did this past month.  Frustration bubbled in my gut, making my stomach contract in an effort to keep the food down. The anger I had been feeling towards myself was growing stronger, threatening to consume me. Out of all the people I blamed for my Mom's death, I blamed myself the most. I entered warrior training as an outlet for my anger, as a distraction from what my poor decision had done. Instead of finding a suitable outlet, I'd trudge back to the packhouse coated in bruises.  'We have two options, Raelynn.' Lila snapped, fed up with my downward spiral of bitter self-hatred. 'You can either quit and go back to locking yourself away, or you can try harder.' 'Try harder?' I scoffed, 'I got knocked out because I kept trying.' 'Poor Raelynn.' L

Two weeks after Beginner's Tournament  The thrill of my victory during the Beginner's Tournament was short lived, as we all returned to our usual routines. I trained with Liam late at night, sometimes leaving the house to spar with him under the stars. Nicki and Dustin continued pushing me harder during training, leaving me exhausted and bruised by the end of the day.  Where I had once been stumbling along, trying to keep up with the rest of the trainee's, I was now managing to stay afloat. My skin toughened, and I began to use the pain as motivation. While I used the physical pain as a distraction, it wasn't a cure-all. My newfound purpose was to take Liam's place as the best warrior in the pack. I knew my goal was a long shot, but it gave me another welcome distraction. Lila continued to warn me about pushing aside the pain of losing my mate and Mom, but I refused to listen. Where I was once drowning in my own emotions, I wa

Our kiss was not soul-shattering. It was not a kiss filled to the brim with toe curling, eye rolling passion. My kiss with Liam was one of hopeful promises, one of comfort and security. Our kiss was one of risk, of inevitable heartbreak and broken beauty.  The week following the Star Shower Festival was one of the best weeks I had since my Mom died. Mine and Liam's strange relationship wasn't one of sexual tension and angst, it was unique, much like my Mom's relationship with Beta Ned.  I had given Liam a piece of my heart, and I knew he would carry it with him always, no matter what paths our lives might take. In return, Liam helped pull my head from the clouds, helped me face the pain I had long come to ignore.  He no longer stayed away when I woke in the night, skin slicked with sweat and tears beading in my eyes. He would hold me until the early hours of the morning, whispering sweet words as I processed my latest nightmare.