Dear Alpha,

Prologue; Puppy Love

If I stay really quiet, maybe he won't find me.

If I stay really, really quiet, he won't get me.

Stay quiet, Moira.

Footsteps padded near the piles of firewood that offered me safety. I crouched with my hands resting on my knees. Shadows danced against the wooden wall of the shed behind me, making every muscle in my body tense — my ears strained for each and every possible sound.

He was panting; wheezing, actually. His steps came closer. They paused for a moment.

My heart felt as though it stopped beating for that short time... but it couldn't have; my pulse was pounding in my ears, almost drowning out any other sound.

The steps took off again. He was going away.

This is my chance!

Quick and cautious steps took me away from my hiding place. Into the open... the unprotected. My head swayed both ways in search of my pursuer but no one was there. Everything seemed quiet — as if it had just been my imagination. Where is he?

I didn't let the thought bother me for long. As if lightning had struck me, I zipped down the hill. I had to get away, no matter what.

There it was, again. The footsteps. He had been waiting. He had set up a trap... and I had fallen for it.

I didn't even bother to look back. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, and I kept on running. Wind whipped my hair in all directions, blinding me. I had to continuously wipe it out of my face. I think that's what made me slower. I think that's the reason he was catching up to me... who am I kidding?

Of course he was catching up to me. He always does. It doesn't matter what I did to try and get away... he'd always be stronger, faster, and he'd always catch me.

My lungs were burning. A metallic taste filled my mouth. I can't keep this going any longer. I'm almost there... Just a little more, I'm almost at the tree. If I can get to the tree without him catching me, then I'm home-free. Just thirty more steps... Just twen'ny five more... Twen'ny... Fifteen... Ten... Nine, I'm almost there! I'm... I'm gonna make it! Five... Four, I'm gonna—

I was tackled before my small feet could hit the third to last step. But, let me tell you one thing, I didn't go down quietly. I went down kicking and squealing — pulling at his shirt — although it wasn't enough. My assailant had me down within moments, and pinned as an aftermath.

. . .

"I gueth that'th another win for me, heh, Ra-ra?"

I didn't answer. This jerk...

He always wins, and, he always gloats!

"Ra-ra! Anthwer meeeee. Or, or... Or I'll tickle ya!" My eyes widened, looking up at my best friend — the uncaring traitor. He wouldn't dare-

Seems he would dare; he launched the attack without a second thought. Before I had time to fully prepare myself, Mark's pudgy hands had unleashed themselves, attacking my sides and making me squeal as the panic of being tickled set in. I felt my face growing hot and I felt the tears streaming down my face as this little jerk-brain assaulted me and forced me into laughing.

He was supposed to be my friend!

"A... Awki! Stop! I... can't... can't bweathe!" It was difficult to even get the sentence out; he really was a relentless tickler. So much for being a 'sweet' five year old, huh? After ten minutes of my begging and writhing he finally decided to let up. His arms crossed victoriously over his chest when he stood up and stepped aside, grinning that devellish little grin — his mommy calls it that, anyway. She says when he's older they're going to keep girls off of him with a broom stick. I don't really understand what she means by that. And she talks about kisses, and this thing called a hickey? I dunno what a hickey is, but a kiss? Ew! No girls kiss boys! I mean, think of the cooties for toys' sake!