It's surprising what human beings can accomplish when death is staring them right in the face. When things began plummeting, few knew how to react. Most were confused, seeking guidance from the very foundations and institutions that, once meant to h...
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"I wonder-all the time-what she was like when she was my age," I muse out loud as I pick apart the croissant I've been playing with for the last hour or so. Malia looks up from her breast-feeding and smiles kindly in my direction.
Collin, who has been surprisingly forthcoming during this entire conversation, chuckles as he blows on the hot chocolate he made for himself and the kids about ten minutes ago.
He told me about the pack members, who were still loyal to my father after Alpha Barnes shunned my parents, and how they aided their escape.
He told me about the tunnels and the families, who hid my parents as they made their way to the edge of the pack line disguised as mine workers one day, factory workers the next, and farmers the next.
He told me about the trains and watching the shiny metal zip past the platform from the shadows, just as the Alpha's henchmen tore through the crowds.
"Ah, we'd be here all day with the stories I have about Serena," he smiles fondly before taking a sip. "She was smart, wise beyond her years-always the peacekeeper and impossibly selfless. On top of that, she was vibrant, passionate and full of life...sometimes stubborn, especially at that age."
He laughs looking at Malia as they share an inside joke. "I can't tell you how many times her smart mouth got her in trouble. Until she met Alec, she was always on-a real firecracker. But, she was the kindest and warmest person I've ever known."
I smile, painting the picture of my mother Collin describes in my memory as Malia nods from her bed.
"Your father was head-over-heels from the beginning," Malia chimes in. "I knew of your father from around the pack and actually went to school with your Aunt Clara. She was a couple of grades above me, but we were friends."
"Small world," I marvel. Millions of questions hanker to burst free as my insatiable curiosity only grows with each new piece of information.
I'm piecing together my own identity as well as creating a permanent canvas of my mother.
How did she become rogue?
Was she an orphan?
Does she have other family out there?
Would she be proud of how I've turned out?
"You look just like her, you know," says Collin, interrupting the commotion in my head. "Your hair is darker, but those eyes...I could swear I'm looking right into hers."
He gives me a sad smile, taking another sip of his hot chocolate. "That's why I was completely stunned when you first walked in here. I couldn't believe it."
"I have an older brother too, Declan," I say, "Aunt Clara took care of us after our parents died. I'm sure she would be so excited to see you both again."
