Thorn

cold, flat surface of the Moonstone Altar. The entire pack surrounded th

his was it. The night I would finally meet my wolf, the night

ad drifted apart over the last two years, the chasm of their status and my orphanhood

or Mom and Dad. For Ren.* I had poured every ounce of my being into training, pushi

hant, began the ritual, calling on the M

earing heat erupted from the base of my spine, a wave of pur

pping, grinding, and trying to reshape itself. I knew there would be pain-everyone went through it-but this was a torturous, br

had melted into expressions of alarm. Their own shifts h

ulsing, the simple white dress I wore fo

's happening?" "It's taking too long." "I can he

ony mask, his brow furrowed,

ing loop. But my form remained stubbornly human. The pain built to an unbearable cresce

that. It

ncontrollably. I was covered in sweat and dirt, but t

ng silence fell o

ck as if she'd been burned, her face a mixture of shock and horror. She shook her head slo

red. The whispers

fail

lf who ca

urse! She

o process what had happened. I looked for Desmond, my eyes pleading with him. The alarm

her mouth, but she couldn't hide the look in her eyes. It w

'd be friends forever, no matter what our wolves looked like-surfaced and the

elf up, but my musc

, hissed from the crowd, that

lfl

dart, and it found its

e me, looming over my pathetic, broken form. His eyes held no pity, no compassion. Only the cold, hard

everything I had hoped for, s

h through the grime on my cheek. The sound of the pack's derisi