The Alpha's Little Rogue| ✓

1| homely

Years later

There are three things I don't take for granted: not being dead, takeout and my best friend. In that order most of the days, but some times I shuffle it around and place take out at number one, because what is the point of being alive if it's not food. Especially if it's a hearty bowl of noodles with perfectly seasoned chicken and a flavorful steaming broth that was teasing my senses awake. I didn't need to guess who left it there. There was only one person in this pack who would risk getting their face bitten off by a nightmare-ridden rogue. 

"Could have left a fork as well!" I yelled to no one in particular, aware that James would have not stuck around to see me gobble down the food. He found my slurping while eating noodles disgusting and often told me, quite loudly. I shrugged, rolling up my sleeves and blowing on the noodles. Just as I was about to scoop a handful into my mouth, a sudden loud crash someone in the distance made me flinch and move away from the table, making unwelcome memories crash my mental mukbang. Although it had been almost a decade since I had escaped, my past that took up a significantly large space in my thoughts had not faded. The cries and the tears, the blood and the fear, all those feelings still made my heart pound unplesantly.

My mother always told me that neither good, nor bad times lasted forever, and life was like a rollercoaster. Deciding whether we wanted to enjoy the thrill of the rise or anticipate the fall was our own choice. I don't think that at that time my mother realised that never having seen a rollercoaster, that piece of advice hadn't made any sense to me. But today I understood that it meant that life is thrilling, only if you're not afraid of it. And being prepared for the bad times didn't have to be as anxiety inducing and mind numbing as one would expect. Especially if I had people I loved to lead me through them. And right on cue-

"Rosie!" A strong, comforting voice called. I didn't realise, but I had drifted over the border of the packland. My one hand was holding bowl, and the other braced against the side of a talll tree bent over a tiny stream. There were no deers, but the lingering scent hit me with a pang. I was standing at the very same spot where I had begun my new life, looking into the questioning eyes of the very same man who helped me build it.

When I first met James, the platonic love of my life, he was a tall and lanky boy, newly hit with a growth spurt that he wasn't yet used to. He was awkward, in an adoring and shy way. His gorgeous eyes and a crooked smile that used to make my heart flutter, were now almost teasing and squinting against the glare of the setting sun. His hair that used to be messy and long was now short and cropped, and years of training had his body develop muscles to match his height.

"Hey stranger." I raised the bowl in greeting, and brought my hand down slowly. Why did I bring this with me? I making my way towards my best friend who wrapped his arm around me in a one-handed hug, and using the other one to protect himself from my bowl. 

"I'm not going to spill anything on you." I pinched his sides with my free hand. He squirmed and shot me a light-hearted glare.

"How long have you been standing here, Po?" He asked me, his eyebrows quirking up. The nickname I had earned after we watched Kung Fu panda made me snort. 

"I'm not entirely sure." I shrugged. "I was startled, and this place..." I trailed off, knowing he would understand exactly what I was trying to say. It called to me. It was the first place that felt safe. Home. 

"Trance?" 

"Trance." I shrugged. "Sorry, this place just makes me a bit nostalgic. If that is the right word to describe the way I'm feeling right now." I wiggled out of his hold and turned to start walking towards the pack house.