Rain and Ashes

A sketch I have been working on lays forgotten on my lap as I watch the fireflies dance in the air while I sit in my favorite tree. Usually, at this time of the night, bonfires are lit and pack members usually sit together talking, eating, drinking, partying. But I am not usually invited. To be honest, I am never invited. Period.

Why? Because I am the Omega that survived a fire when I was only three years old. The same fire that killed my parents. Even if the house I was in with my parents burned to the ground, the fire did not harm me. When I was found in what was left of the house, pack members swore that fire surrounded me and my eyes were glowing red. Once the fire that surrounded me disappeared, my eyes turned to their natural color—green. Also, my once black hair turned red, and on my left shoulder, a tattoo of a crown of flames appeared. Since then, my pack, the Crescent Moon Pack, thinks that I, Rain Blackwater, have been cursed by the Moon Goddess. And they avoid me like I am the plague. Well, except for the long hours I have to work for the pack and they order me around.

I don’t mind working, because it gives me time to be alone and just think about all the things I will do once I will turn eighteen years and leave the pack. My problem is my small stature, only 5’4, and all the hard work I have to do around the Pack House. I am the one to cut the wood for the bonfires and the one to make sure they are ready to be used in the evenings.

I am also the one that cleans the Pack House, all four floors, by myself because I am the Omega. The only Omega in the Pack.

And if I don’t do the work that the pack demands of me, they will throw me out and I will become a rogue. The problem with it is that Omegas goes into heat and being a rogue Omega in heat is not something I want to experience. With a bit of luck, I still have years left until I get my first heat. And when that happens, well I will deal with it when that time comes.

Fortunately, I am not asked to work all the time, and from 9 PM to 5:30 AM the time is mine to do as I want. And what I like to do is to draw. And I am pretty good at it. The art teacher, Mr. Smith, a Gamma in the pack, says that I should study Arts at the University. He is also the only one that believes I am not cursed.

My thoughts are interrupted by a pair laughing very loudly. I look over to the bonfires and sniff the air in the direction of those that are laughing. Lavender – that is my cousin, and oranges – that would be Jordan, the future Alpha of the Pack. I see Jordan laughing at something my so perfect cousin, Ruth, said. I try so hard not to roll my eyes because I see Jordan practically drooling all over Ruth. Like I get the fact that she is like some sort of walking Barbie– at least that’s what I am told because I have prosopagnosia and thank the goddess I am a werewolf and I can recognize the others from their scent – and that she has an entire fan club in the pack, but I think that sometimes she tries too hard to get the attention of the others. And especially the one of Jordan. Unfortunately for Ruth, she can never be Luna, because only the soulmate of the Alpha can become Luna. And even if Jordan is almost twenty-two, he still hasn’t found his soulmate.

My wolf, Safia, send me an image of Jordan with a female with red hair at his side, and Ruth crying. I laugh. And then I arch an eyebrow. Red hair?

Like me, Safia is different. While I suffer from face blindness, Sefora can’t speak, like all the other wolves. So she uses images when she wants to talk to me. We even have a code, since I can’t recognize faces. So, Jordan has an orange above his head. Ruth, a bouquet of lavenders. And since I struggle to recognize emotions, Safia has to get creative. For crying, she uses a raining cloud, for anger a burning cloud, while for happiness a rainbow, and so on.

Safia shows me once more the image of Jordan and the red hair female, and this time she adds an apple with caramel above her. And that would be me because I smell like apples and caramel.

‘Ah no! That will never happen! Just because you have a crush on Jordan’s wolf, Titan, that doesn’t mean I have a stupid crush on Jordan,’ I say to Safia. ‘Besides, Jordan is just like all the others. He thinks we are cursed, and you know how bad he treats us.’

Jordan likes to kick the bucket of water I use when I clean the floors of the Pack House or pushes me around whenever he feels like it or enjoys calling me names. And so many more things.

Safia sends me an image of a dark red wolf and a grey wolf running in the forest – Safia and Titan. I roll my eyes so hard at her. And she whines.

‘I know you want to find our soulmate, Safia. I want that too! But our soulmate is not Jordan! Our soulmate will be kind, and he will love us.’

But Safia is not listening to me. My crazy wolf is lost in her dream of Titan and her. And I let her be. After all that it happened to us, she deserves a little daydreaming. And daydreaming about Titan won’t hurt anyone.

I put my sketch in my little backpack and get down from the tree. It had been a long day for me, cleaning the Pack House for the upcoming birthday of Jordan. Only two more days and then Jordan will be twenty-two. Two more days in which I have to make sure that the Pack House is spotless.

As I head to my little room, I get too close to the spot where Ruth and Jordan are sitting. Other werewolves are with them, but I don’t focus on their scents, because I realize my big mistake. Ruth is my number one tormentor and I do everything I can to avoid her.

“If it is the bane of the family,” Ruth says when she sees me. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to make sure everything is ready for Jordy’s special day? Am I right, Honey-Bunny?”

Honey-Bunny aka Hannah, aka Ruth’s BFF and shadow.

And also Jordy? Gag me! How does she come up with these names?

“You are always right, Ruthy!” Hannah, I mean Honey- Bunny says.

“I am in my free time, Ruth, in case you have forgotten,” I simply say.

“I was not aware that you have free time. People like you should not be allowed to have free time,” Ruth says.

“People like me?” I ask.