Barely Breathing

The morning light dawned bright and clear seeping through the cracks in my half-open window. With bleary eyes, I stretched my arms and got up. For the past two years, my life has been routine. I get up, fixed the bed, eat breakfast, go to training, take lunch, training again, eat dinner, and sleep. Occasionally, I go to the forest and take some much-needed break.

Two years had passed since that fateful day. I do not know how I survived death, but I did. And here I am, living in a packhouse and having food to eat. Luck must have been poured on me.

That day, Xyrus and Gabbiel were patrolling the borders of the Blood Moon Pack. Out of all the packs in the world, I had to pass the only pack that doesn’t abide by the council and living with its own rules. The council is an association of different alphas around the world to maintain peace for all werewolves.

Werewolves used to be ruled by a king and queen from royal bloodlines. The royal bloodlines came from the most powerful ancient wolves. The king is the alpha of all alphas. But a revolution happened, overthrowing the king’s power. Some alphas joined the revolution, some protected the royal family, but others chose to not choose a side.

It was chaos. That very war was the reason I had been living in solitude. I shook my head, not yet ready to visit that part of my memories I so deeply buried in my mind. Just thinking about it was painful. Only when I sleep was my guard low and nightmares of my past haunting me mercilessly.

I can shift in my wolf now. The first shift happened two years ago, the next day right after I almost die. It was still a mystery to me because I should have shifted two more months but something must have triggered my wolf. I stayed in my wolf form for almost a whole week, my wolf helped me to recover from my wounds and broken bones.

If it wasn’t for Xyrus and Gabbiel patrolling the border, I might have died right there and then. Gabbiel later told me Xyrus killed the rogue and brought me to the packhouse. Alpha Caden, Xyrus’ father accepted me into their pack and now I am living in the packhouse.

I named my wolf, Violet. She was a purple wolf, the average size but when it comes to speed, she can compete with male wolves. She’s a happy wolf, always emits positivity. As for werewolves, we can turn into our wolves starting at the age of sixteen. Our wolf can’t talk to us like humans do, but we can feel their emotions, sometimes, purring or growling in our minds. That is the way we communicate with them.

“Good morning Heather.” I smiled at Heather. She is our cook every morning and one of the nicest girls I met.

plate of bacon, eggs, and chicken rolls. “You must be

to do extra training.” I was on my second bite already, eager to finish my food in no time. Warriors will be at the training ground any moment now. Warriors are the pack members with a duty to protect and defend our pack.

worry on her face. She handed me orange juice. “The

look again, well, if you think of it, Heather tends to

She asked instead. She reached for my now empty plate and glass and put them on the

to be so motherly when in reality, I am a year older than her. I swear she thinks like an

bye!” I called out as I exited the kitchen door and went my way to the training

was located a little farther from the back of the packhouse. Some warriors had already started when I get there. Two wolves were circling each other while growling and wagging their tails. Some were in hand-to-hand combat, including Tash, my best friend, whose training partner was none other than Gabbiel. I’m pretty sure something is going on between the two, or maybe Gabbiel only because Tash

former beta. Just last year when both alpha and beta stepped down and handed their position to their sons. Since then, the two old men along with their wives rarely be seen in the pack because they

to my quick reflexes, I caught it and raised it in

standing along with two other warriors. On their feet laid the different weapons we use for training

I smirked, the wooden stick circling in my fingers. Julian kicked one stick upwards and caught it

forward, his makeup sword clashing with mine. I put force on mine and pushed him. His smirk widened as

do you know that?” He spoke, admiration

retorted this time I was the one attacking. In no time, all that could be heard were the sounds of wooden sticks clashing in an ancient dance of swords as we continued to charge at each

same age as me. He is a charming kind of guy who makes everyone laugh. To add to that,