Sensitive Wolf

2.

22 years later

Every child deserves a parent,
but not every parent deserves a child.
- Vinod Kapri

"SOPHIA!"

I heard my mother scream my name from downstairs and instantly froze. I knew she was going to lecture me, but I thought I had more time to make up a believable excuse. I had only one idea and I really hoped she would buy it, or else I would be done for.

One should think that my name Sophia , which meant wise one, should enable me to make good decisions, but if you would ask my family I always chose utterly wrong.

Knowing that time was running against me I tied my blond hair quickly into a neat bun and rushed downstairs.

My mother and pretty much all the Mercy pack females had cut their hair short, so it would not get in the way during a fight. However, I was allowed to let it grow - one of the few things my mother let slide, but I had to wear it in a bun or a ponytail while outside my room. I had always wondered why, because my mother was pretty strict and made me stick to all rules, but since they never took me with them when there was war - which I was very grateful for - I figured it had something to do with it.

As I tried to gracefully but at the same time quickly make my way downstairs I could literally feel the tension in the air. My mother was a big fan of getting to her fast, but doing so with grace. It had been drilled into me since the day I could walk.

As soon as I was downstairs my wolf bristled in my mind as my mother's cold blue eyes shot daggers at me. I winced almost feeling them penetrate my body. This was already not going the way I had hoped it would.

My heartbeat was increasing and I could feel sweat forming on my neck.

"Mother", I greated her in a strong voice, which I hoped would appease her a little bit.

She always thought of me as a weakling and wanted me to be more confident, expecially in situations like this. I remembered the training I put myself through every evening and held my head high, keeping eye contact with her as to not show any weakness. I held my breath, because otherwise my mother could tell because of my irregular breathing and heart rate that I was scared.

In my mind my wolf cowered in a corner and I wanted nothing more than to join her, but I could not. I must not, because the punishment for this kind of behaviour would be outrageous.

I was not going to lie - my mother terrified me, a lot. Just like my father.

As far as I could remember it had always been like this. The first memory that had stuck with me was of a three year old me who had found a wounded bird. I had learned pretty quick that I was not allowed to disturb my parents...ever, so the only thing I could do had been helping the bird on my own. It had been very pretty with blue and white feathers and I had somehow felt drawn to it. It was so beautiful, almost majestic. I remembered being jealous of it, because it could fly wherever it wanted to and I was stuck here.

After observing the bird for quite some time I had realized that one of it's wings had been hurt. Rubbing my own arm as if I could feel the pain myself I had started to make a makeshift pad for the bird's wing. I had recalled seeing one in one of my brother's books and had built it accordingly. Convincing the bird to trust me was a whole other issue, but after some time the makeshift pad had been in place and seemed to do it's job.

The bird had chirped almost as in telling me "thank you" and I had never been more happy in my life. I still could feel the big smile on my face when I had realized that I had indeed helped someone. My joy had been shortlived as a big shadow had suddenly loomed over me. I remember the hair on my neck rising and a feeling of doom overcoming me.