Dark curly strands tangled around the fists of three tweens as they dragged a girl across the clearing. Her small body jerked with every rough pull, her heels carving shallow trenches in the dirt. She cried out, her small hands flailing uselessly against the iron grip of their fingers.
"Stop. Please stop," she sobbed, her voice breaking into a high-pitched hitch as her feet slipped over gnarled roots.
The boys only laughed, the sound sharp and jarring. One of them yanked harder, his knuckles white as he forced her head back at a painful angle.
"My parents said you are cursed," he said cheerfully, a bright, chilling contrast to the malice in his words. "Said you do not even deserve to be alive."
"I am not cursed," the girl cried, hot tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto her collar. "Leave me alone, Ash."
"Shut up!" Ash snapped, his eyes sparkling with a cruel, inner light. "Are you saying my parents are liars?" He gave her hair another vicious tug, making her scream harder as she was forced to her knees.
Another girl their age, who looked almost identical to Ash, stood off to the side. Her blonde hair was neatly braided, every strand in place, and her lips curved into an easy, languid smile as if this were a midday play.
The boys yanked the crying girl forward. She stumbled, her balance failing as she fell hard to the ground. Dirt scraped her palms and knees, drawing beads of dark blood. She curled inward, trying to become as small as possible while the laughter of the boys burst above her.
"Ugly beast."
"Bad luck freak."
"Monster girl."
She sniffed, her shoulders shaking violently as she tried to wipe her nose with the back of her hand, but fresh tears spilled over, blurring the world into a gray smear.
The girl who had been watching finally stepped closer. "Ash," she called lightly, a grin tugging at her lips. "I'm bored. This is dull. Can't we do something a little more entertaining?"
Ash turned to his twin, his golden hair falling messily into his eyes. His blue gaze gleamed with restless cruelty. "What do you have in mind, Ember?"
Ember smirked and leaned in, whispering something into his ear that slowly stretched his expression into a jagged grin.
Without hesitation, he lifted his leg and brought his foot down hard against the crying girl's side. She screamed, the air rushing from her lungs as she collapsed onto her back, her sobs turning frantic and broken. The four teens erupted into laughter, their voices blending in a sick, mocking chorus.
"Like that?" he asked his sister.
Ember nodded, a satisfied, frigid smile curving her lips. "Now this is fun. Do it again," she whispered.
Just as Ash lifted his leg for another brutal stamp, a blur of red hair crashed into him.
The impact sent him stumbling backward, arms flailing as he fought to keep his balance, barely managing to stay on his feet.
"Get away from her, you stinking mutt!" a new voice snapped.
A red-haired girl stood between them, her chest heaving and her small fists clenched at her sides. She glared at the group of tweens without a hint of fear. "Ember, I know you are a heartless, but I never expected you to be this cruel," she spat, her eyes narrowed to slits.
Ember's smile faded, settling into a mask of cool indifference. She brushed invisible dust from her dress before letting her gaze travel lazily over the newcomer.
"Relax, Willow," she said with a faint scoff. "We were only having a little harmless fun with Nevaeh. It's not that serious. You don't have to be so dramatic all the time."
Willow's eyes blazed as she fixed them Ember. Her jaw locked, and her hands trembled at her sides, fury barely restrained.
"Oh?" she asked coldly. "Would you like me to have that same kind of 'little harmless fun' with you, Ember? Or does it only count as harmless when you're the one laughing?"
"No thanks, I'm good," Ember replied with a careless chuckle.
Willow shot her one last scorching glare before dropping to her knees beside the trembling girl.
"Nevaeh," she murmured, her voice softening as she reached out her hand. "Take my hand."
Nevaeh hesitated for only a heartbeat before slipping her trembling fingers into Willow's palm.
Willow tightened her grip and pulled her up with surprising strength for someone her size, steadying her as she wavered.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing, Willow?" Ash barked, stepping forward with his chest puffed out in challenge. "We're not done playing with her, so stay out of this."
"Make me," Willow shot back, her glare unflinching as she planted herself firmly in front of Nevaeh.
Ash faltered for a split second, his bravado dimming before he masked it with a sneer. "Thank your lucky stars your grandmother is the Zeta, Willow. If she weren't, I'd teach you a lesson you'd never forget."
"And you should thank yours that your father is the Beta," Willow replied, stepping closer until her voice dropped to something low and lethal. "But that won't stop me if you so much as touch her again. Now get lost, Ash."
Ash scoffed and glanced at his silent companions. "Come on, guys. Let's get out of here. We can always continue the fun later." He cloaked his retreat in forced laughter as his two friends trailed after him.
Ember lingered a moment longer, her gaze fixed on Nevaeh and Willow. Willow was already brushing dirt from Nevaeh's clothes, carefully wiping the scrapes on her small palms.
Willow looked up and caught Ember still standing there. "What are you still doing here?" she snapped. "Why aren't you following your block-headed brother?"
Ember's face twisted into a silent scowl. She flipped her braid over her shoulder and stomped away without a word.
"Evil witch," Willow muttered under her breath.
"Thank you, Willow," Nevaeh whispered, her voice still trembling.
Willow smiled gently and wiped the remaining tears from Nevaeh's cheeks with her thumbs. "Always. Now come on. I saw some ripe plums in the orchard. They're your favorite, aren't they?"
Nevaeh nodded, managing a small, fragile smile.
"Then I'll pick plenty for you," Willow said, taking her hand and leading her away.
At the base of a plum tree, the girls tilted their heads back. The branches were heavy with dark, ripe fruit—but far above their reach.
"That's too high," Nevaeh murmured. "Maybe we should wait until the pack harvests them."
Willow shook her head. "You know they won't give you any when they do. I'm getting you some. Besides, have you forgotten? I'm a good climber."
"I know, but…" Nevaeh began, worry creasing her brow.
"It's alright," Willow said, already grasping the lowest branch and hauling herself up. "I've climbed worse. I'll be careful. Just wait below and catch any that fall."
Nevaeh watched anxiously, her fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt. Willow reached a branch thick with fruit and looked down with a triumphant grin.
"See, Nevaeh? I told you it'd be fine." Her bright green eyes sparkled with reckless pride.
"Seriously, Willow," Nevaeh called, her voice trembling again. "You should come down. I don't feel good about this."
"Relax, I've got this," Willow chirped, shifting her grip. She leaned farther out, her small hand straining toward a particularly heavy cluster of plums. "Just imagine how sweet they'll taste."
Then came the crack. Sharp. Sickening. The branch beneath Willow's foot snapped.
"Willow!"
Nevaeh jolted upright, a scream tearing from her throat, shattering the quiet of her tiny room. Sweat drenched her skin, her thin tank top clinging to her ribs. Her heart slammed against her sternum, breath ripping in jagged gasps that burned her lungs.
"Dammit," she muttered, the word shaking as it left her lips.
She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to rub away the image of the fall. Nine years. Nine years since the ground claimed her best friend, yet the nightmare stayed fresh, a recurring debt she had to pay every time she closed her eyes.
She glanced at the bedside table. The digital clock glowed red.
11:00.
"Shit."
Nevaeh scrambled out of bed, sheets tangling around her legs. The Awakening began at midnight. She had meant to rest for twenty minutes after her shift at the supermarket, but the exhaustion of hauling crates and the mental breakdown caused by the Brooks twins—Ash and Ember, had dragged her under.
Now, she had exactly one hour to reach the pack house.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it," she muttered as she tore across the tiny room.
Her room was barely more than a box. Narrow bed. Peeling wallpaper. A single dresser and a cracked mirror. She yanked on dark jeans and a black sweater, hopping as she wrestled into her sneakers. Her heel snagged. She lurched forward, her shoulder slamming into the wall.
"Son of a bitch," she hissed.
She dragged a brush through her dark curls hard enough to sting, gave up halfway, and grabbed her keys. She bolted outside, locked the door with a frantic twist, and sprinted away from her isolated cottage.