A Lone Wolf Without A Wolf
It was midnight.
A fifteen-year-old Esme with striking blue hair, stood at the edge of the clearing with half of her body concealed in a shadowed corner, whilst she peeked at the members of her pack like she was expecting something exciting to happen soon.
Her blue eyes widened in pure fascination as her packmates shifted effortlessly into their wolf forms, their bodies blending seamlessly with the night. Her heart pounded from the thrill as she observed their shift, and she wondered to herself if she would ever be able to achieve something as amazing as that in the coming future.
'Why does it look so cool?' She thought in a soft whisper, observing the shifters who had transformed and were prepared to head into the woods for a late night hunt.
Her little moment was rudely interrupted when Dahmer, her nineteen-year-old step brother, shoved her by the shoulder into the clearing, and she gasped. This forceful push made everyone, who hardly noticed her presence earlier, turn their head to see Dahmer smirking maliciously at his terrified sister.
Upon noticing the familiar lad, Esme's blood ran cold.
"Why do you even come here, Esmeray?" He sneered, his voice loud enough to draw the attention she had been trying hard to avoid. "You're nothing but a useless burden to the pack. No one wants you here." His tone dripped with contempt, and Esme's trembling gaze darted to the rest of the shifters, who stared at her with open disdain and belittling smiles.
Her cheeks flushed in shame, and Esme bit her lower lips to hold back the tears. "I didn't… I just… Father always allowed me to—"
"You poor little wretch. Your father isn't here now, is he? Do you see him anywhere?" He gave her a pat on the head, meeting her frightened eyes. "Your father is dead, gone, and do you know why? Because he sired a worthless daughter like you. If he had known what kind of failure you'd become, he would have killed you the moment you crawled out of your mother's feeble womb." His smile twisted into a condescending smirk.
The laughter that followed Dahmer's words echoed painfully in her ear. Her expression switched from shock to anger at his vulgar remark regarding her late mother, her fist balling at her side due to her rising rage, but that was cut short when a harsh slap landed on her cheek.
It silenced everyone. The hand imprint was painfully prominent. Tears fled her eyes as her head remained turned, the shock of the slap plastered on her face, and when she felt something wet trickle down her nose, only then did she recover from her freezing state.
She was bleeding.
Looking up, Esme met the loathsome gaze of the woman her father had married to replace the void left by her own mother. This woman was Luna Percy, and mother of Dahmer — the newest Alpha of their pack.
"How dare you stare at your Alpha with such ire! Apologize this minute or I shall ensure you face the whip!" Luna Percy threatened with sheer hostility, and the fear in Esme's eyes returned.
She lowered her head and defeatedly apologized for an action that wasn't even her fault.
"S-sorry."
Alpha Dahmer smirked at her compliance and crossed his arms. "Sorry? Then prove it. Get on your knees and kiss my feet like the obedient little dog that you are." He demanded, his words making Esme's body freeze in place. The snickers coming from all around her were making her dizzy, she hated and feared the crowd, they looked like demons, and the worst part of being in their midst was that the hostile attention of everyone was inflicted on her.
With a heavy heart, she went on her knees, and she did exactly as she was told. That only prompted more echoes of laughter in her direction, making her tear up. All she wanted to do was watch their transformation without bothering anyone — was that really too much to ask for?
Luna Percy was equally satisfied with her actions and ordered. "Go back to the house, you filthy thing! You don't belong here."
Rising to her feet, Esme lowered her head and turned away from the pack, her vision blurred with unshed tears. The cold night air stung her cheeks as she walked back into the house — a house that no longer felt like home.
Inside the dimly-lit mansion, Esme didn't bother to go to her room directly. Her maid, whose name was Vivienne, had been tidying the small, cluttered room for her to ensure she would get some comfort while sleeping tonight. If she showed up with a red cheek, Vivienne would get worried, and she didn't want that. Instead, Esme made her way to the library, another haven that gave her a chance to escape reality each time she needed to.
Sitting on the chair, Esme's tears finally flowed freely, staining the pages of the book she was going through. This was a book that gave one the basic procedures in making herbs to alleviate wounds, and since her stepmother never allowed the healers to treat her wounds, Esme had learned to make her own medicine from the age of twelve.
She was alone — a lone wolf without a wolf. Unlike the others, she could not heal rapidly. She was born weak, with a weak pulse, and due to her low spirit, she could not shift like everyone else. Her existence in the pack had no meaning, because a shifter without a wolf was viewed no different than a human. She was practically drowning in a sea of expectation she would never meet.
As her tears spilled, she looked at her trembling palm and whispered into the emptiness.
"Why am I like this? Why was I born so weak?"
Closing the book, Esme rested her head on the table and cried.
Few minutes later, a light touch on her arm made her freeze momentarily, fearing it was someone from her pack who had found her and was here to bully her. She slowly turned her head to see a pair of blue eyes watching her. It was no one other than her seven-year-old half-brother, Finnian.
His doe eyes were laced with worry as he took in her slightly swollen cheek, and Esme's pupils dilated when he stuck a clean white cloth into her nostril. She had been so carried away by her own emotions that she forgot she had a bleeding nose.
Finnian handed her a small jar containing healing salves, and he whispered softly.
"Here." He urged her to take it.
"Finnian?"
"No one is home except my mother. Use this to heal your wound before brother Dahhmer returns." He placed the small jar on the table and quickly exited the library, just before Esme could utter her thanks.
Her gaze lingered on the small jar on the table, dazed by Finnian's unexpected kindness. It made her eyes water even more.
She just has to bear it a few years longer. One way or another, she's going to have to escape this hell of a pack no matter what.
These were the words she repeatedly told herself till she turned twenty-one.
Esme remained devoted to the moon goddess, hoping that her mate would come and free her from this bondage.
During the full moon ceremony, he did come.
He was as strong and tough as she hoped he would be — but, he had only come to reject her.