Author's Note: This is very, very loosely how I envision Isolde to look when she is healthy and happy. (Someone please make a Mother of Dragons/Vinny joke!)
Ophelia very timidly knocked on the glass door of the clinic and hoped that no one would answer. Her mate had tried to convince her that this was a very kind and empathetic thing to do for the pack, who were her people now. Chris had emphasized that the people had expressed an interest in meeting her, that there were still many of the pack with whom she had not yet crossed paths and they were very curious. He tried to woo her into the commitment by promising her that the wolves would love her beautifully graceful ways and her exceptional sense of humor, but she knew that neither of those things was exactly true — she lacked grace and sophistication, and she wasn't all that funny, either. But the look in her mate's eyes showed her that this was important to him, so she had relented.
She liked the doctor, she trusted him and his soft, kind words, so she had agreed to spend a few hours at the clinic with him, meeting patients - but today there was actually only one. Ophelia had not yet been introduced to Isolde but when Rick ushered her down the short hallway that contained the few private rooms, he guided her immediately to the other she-wolf's bedside. "Luna Ophelia," he tried to introduce her with a note of grandeur in his velvety voice, conveying the stature of her title and hoping to boost her confidence. "This is Isolde. She is the mate of our Alpha's cousin, Vincenzo."
Ophelia slipped down onto the chair located beside the other girl's bed, and smiled shyly. The she-wolf looked to be about her own age, though it was not so easy to tell in her present, emaciated form. "Hello, Isolde. How are you?" she greeted with a timid smile.
Pathetically thin, like cheap canvas stretched over a set of cavernous bones, Isolde barely opened her eyes. She turned her head slightly toward the sound of the other she-wolf's voice, and croaked a dry, "Hello."
"What's wrong?" the Luna frowned down at the other woman.
Rick winced slightly at her harsh phrasing, as he had been hoping that somewhere along the way the Alpha had coached his Luna and taught her some conversational tact. Clearly, that had not yet happened because Ophelia spoke like every other teenager: blunt, matter of fact, and without a single ounce of sugar dusted on top. In this, she was very different from the other woman with whom she shared appearances.
Isolde kept her eyes shut, but licked her chapped lips slowly. She seemed to start and stop, struggling to formulate a sentence. Though, eventually, she found her voice. "I want to die," she offered in a whisper that ghosted across Rick's flesh and made his spine tingle.
Ophelia simply looked as though she'd been slapped. "But why?" she inquired. She sat up straighter and seemed to take more of an interest in the other she-wolf now, perhaps a bit too engaged in the car crash that was unfolding before her ears.
"My pup," Isolde stammered with a solitary tear eking from her right eye. "I lost my pup and I lost the world."
Seeing that maybe the Luna's feminine presence would aid Isolde, that maybe the two women could share a more intimate conversation if he left the room, Rick quietly disappeared back down the hallway. Goddess knew that he had paperwork to do, and he certainly would not argue with an opportunity to call and check in on Layla. Though, thanks to their link, he knew very well that right now she was fast asleep, her heart beat steady and strong, as was that of the pup.
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White Lightning
Werewolf[Ongoing Serial Novel][Werewolf] [MIW] In our world, for every female pup born there were five very eager and wanton males waiting for her to turn of age. Some packs considered their females to be ripe at sixteen, but my great-grandfather had establ...
