
Description
My name is Katia; I want to find my fated mate and live a peaceful life raising our pups. The problem is I have holes in my memories and don't understand who or what I am. I know I am a werewolf, but I am also something else. Rejection is the last straw! I am not worthy is the reason he gives. The pain doubles me over; my wolf is whimpering in my head, and tears are running down my face. I whispered my acceptance of his rejection and took off running. I ran through the pack house out across the green manicured lawn into the forest. "I'm sorry, my sweet girl," I say to my wolf. I'm sorry you have been stuck with me, and our life has been difficult. She whispers," It's not your fault, Katia." I don't know how long or far we ran, but we came to a cliff with a waterfall. The pain from the rejection is unbearable, and the hurt keeps pounding at me. I know I am missing something. Aza, my wolf, feels it, too; she says we are more than regular werewolves and are here for a reason. We cannot remember the reason. I stand staring at the water running over and down, creating the fall. I wonder what the reason is for the millionth time. Why can I or Aza not remember? Does it have something to do with the way others treat us? The way we have been sent to live with different people since the death of our parents? Does it have something to do with why my fated rejected me? I am tired of figuring out why our memories do not make sense. My sweet girl and I want peace, but we do not know how to obtain it. I stand staring into the oblivion of the pool at the bottom of the waterfall. So I stand there rejected, half a wolf, speaking with my Wolfie, my nickname for Aza, debating what we should do next. Someone was yelling my name from the direction I ran. I do not want to go back there. I hear laughter. Turning, I glance down over the cliff. There is another pack having a barbecue. The adults are laughing and watching the pups play. What looks to be the Alpha, beta, and gamma of the pack are in the water playing Marco Polo with some of the children. They look so happy and carefree. I want that. I wonder if Aza and I ever have a life like that.
Chapter 1
Feb 4, 2026
Katia pov
Let me introduce myself. I am Katia Lane, and I am 19 years old. Today is the day I die. Don't be sad for me. It's okay, my wolf Aza and I agree that our next life has to be better than this one.
Oh yeah, in case you didn't know, werewolves are real and I am one of them. We prefer to be called shifters as we shift from human to wolf at will. We live in communities called packs and intermingle with other supernatural beings and humans. Although most humans have no clue that the supernatural world exists.
Back to why Aza and I have decided today is the day we die. It's simple, really. We can no longer stand the torture, abuse, pain, and hurt we have dealt with since my birth. I have no clue why my parents, the beta couple, to the Night Shade pack, hated me. I was their firstborn born and they showed absolutely no feelings for me at all. I was basically ignored except for changing and being fed, which kept me quiet. Once I was old enough to understand commands, I was put to cooking, cleaning, and taking care of my younger brothers. Yes, my brothers were loved and treasured. After all, they would become the beta and gamma of the pack someday. Just as my father and his brother had done. My brothers learned to smack me, throw me, choke me, and do nd whatever else they could think of. Their favorite thing to do was to do something they weren't allowed to do and then blame me. Knowing I would be punished. One time, when I was about eight, my brothers stole money from my mom's wallet. When my mom discovered money missing from her wallet, I was blamed. I was given 50 lashes and no food for a week. I was blamed and punished for anything that went wrong or happened with the pack. My parents punched, kicked, whipped, and starved me. Not to mention any other ways to torture me, my parents, or pack members could think of.
Why didn't I say something to the Alpha or Luna? They were busy running the pack, and they had seen me hit and thrown across the dining room when I tripped and dumped a tray of food on the floor. It didn't matter that I was only five. I figured since they didn't say anything, they really did not care.
I tried to run away when I was eight. I had been beaten and locked in a closet as punishment for my latest transgression. I didn't even know what it was that I was being punished for. I made it to the woods surrounding our pack lands. I ran and ran into them until it was so dark that not one ray of sunlight peeked through the trees. I was terrified and had no idea what to do. I was cold, scared of the noises, and what might be making those noises. I found a tree with a hole in the bottom of its trunk and crawled inside. As I sat inside, shivering and hoping nothing was going to find and eat me, I smelled my father and uncle. Already tiny for my age, I still tried to make myself smaller. Shifter senses are stronger than a human's, even when we have not met our wolves yet. So, for the two adult males, who had had their wolves for years, it was easy to find me. I was grabbed by my legs and pulled from the tree. The beating I was given by my father and uncle, for inconveniencing them, almost killed me. When they saw how badly they had beaten me, they took me to the pack hospital and said I had been attacked by a rogue. A rogue is a wolf that has left or been thrown out of its pack. Wolves are pack animals and have a hard time living on their own. Some rogues cannot stand the loneliness, and it does something to their minds.
The doctor accepted their explanation and spent hours resetting bones and putting casts on me. Stitching me up and monitoring my vitals. Once I was out of danger of dying, he sent me home with the promise of trying not to draw attention to myself. He did not really buy the rogue excuse. He knew what really happened and knew he could not go up against the beta of the pack.
I managed to do just that for about two years. I learned to never speak, so no one would hear me and remember I existed. I found ways to not be in the same room with the worst of my ant agonizers. I was essentially a ghost. I did what I was assigned to do every day. I learned to anticipate when someone wanted something, and it was there before they remembered my name and yelled for me. I waited until everyone went to sleep every night before I would quietly slip into my room and go to sleep.
Then my tenth birthday happened...

Moon Touched
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