Meadow

the phantom pain of my severed soul-bond. I was weak, starved, and running on the last

I'd grown up with filled the air. It was the smell of childhood,

their stances instantly wary. "Halt, Ro

t's me," I rasped, my voice raw. "Elara. Elara

ressions of shock and distaste. One of them grunted, his

ining the pain and anger he would feel when he saw me like this. He would hold me, he would rage against

rom the path leading to the pack hous

filthy, bedraggled state, and her lips curled in a sneer of pure satisfaction. She cross

voice sickly sweet. "The little castoff. I heard you were r

ring the sting of her wo

oesn't want to see you. He has no interest in welcom

appeared behind her. She arranged h

on. "We heard what happened. It's just tragic. But you

and turned him against his own blood. A cold fury ros

iven his orders. The Meadowes Pack does not harbor unlucky Rogues. If

sical blow. No. Not my fath

f. "Where is he? I want to hear it from him!" I

s. The blades gleamed menacingly in the pale sunlight, and the sharp

fr

en I s

nd-floor balcony of the pack house. He was watchi

n his gaze-shame, maybe even pain-but it was drowned out by a wa

gaze faltered. He broke eye contact, turned, and

more final than any spoken rejection. It s

the clearing. "See? Nobody wants you,

drained away, leaving behind a hollow, aching numbness. I stopped pleading

ded presence, let out one last, faint cry and the

I once loved. I put one foot in front of the other, my steps heavy and mec

was a blank mask. There wa

n, I had nothin