There is something eternal about those quiet mornings. As if the passing of time could fit in that moment. As if the soft light of the sun slowly rising could stay like that, painting the world in sunrise colors forever.
Firstly, it should be impossible for any wolf to find their mate before they come of age. Secondly, dark wolves never get mated. Some say it's because the moon loved them too much so she kept them to herself. Some say it's beacuse they are so dark they are heartless and therefore unable to love. The dark ones, touched by the night itself, are always mateless and alone.
We managed to undo both of these truths.
I look at the snow covered world outside. It's just the same as yesterday but I'm not. Dad has left a Happy Birthday note on the table next to a bowl of stew. He's a terrible hunter so I guess the meat is bought. It has that superstore smell to it, the plastic scent lingering like a foul spice.
I smile sadly. His love is alwys so careful; just a small touch, a small geture. And I am the same; just a simple nod, a tiny smile. We are like this, me and dad. We have always been, for as long as I can remember he's been nervous and far, as if he's caring for someone elses child. And in a way he is. The moment I met my mate I belonged to someone else.
YOU ARE READING
Scar
Werewolf"Don't worry, I wouldn't touch you even if my life depended on it" he hisses angrily. I dare not move a single muscle, afraid that it will show how much the comment hurts. He tosses his bag onto the floor, making me flinch. With a growl he storms ou...
