Lila
The full moon cast a silver glow over the dense forest, its light filtering through the towering pines that surrounded the small, isolated pack village. In the farthest corner of the territory, nestled in the shadow of the trees, a young woman sat by the stream, her fingers trailing through the cool water. Lila.
She was an omega—small in status but striking in presence. At twenty years of age, she possessed a quiet beauty that turned heads despite the rags she wore. Her long, cascading hair was the color of the midnight sky. Her eyes, a deep and haunting shade of gold, held an otherworldly glow, framed by thick lashes that added to her ethereal allure. Her skin, pale as winter snow, bore a softness untouched by time, though scars marred the once-perfect surface—a cruel testament to her existence within the pack.
She had no family. No protector. No home that truly welcomed her.
Her parents had been taken from her when she was just a pup, barely old enough to shift. The memory of that night remained etched in her soul, a scar far deeper than those that marked her skin.
The rogues had come under the cover of darkness, their howls splitting the night like the wail of the damned. Her father, a fierce warrior, had fought with all his strength, his silver fur a blur of movement as he cut down his enemies. Her mother, a healer, had shielded her with trembling hands, whispering words of love and sorrow before pushing her away, ordering her to run.
She had obeyed. She had hidden.
And when dawn broke, she had emerged from the hollow of a fallen tree, her small body shaking as she stumbled back to the village—only to find the bodies of her parents lying motionless on the bloodstained ground. Their sacrifice had saved her, but no one in the pack had stepped forward to take her in. She was left to fend for herself, an orphaned omega among wolves who saw her as nothing more than a burden.
The years had not been kind. She had grown up in the shadows, scraping by on whatever scraps she could find, enduring the cold stares and whispered insults of those who should have been her family. The hierarchy of the pack dictated strength, and as an omega with no allies, she had none.
But despite it all, she had endured. She had survived.
The wind stirred, carrying the scent of the pack’s village, the distant laughter of warriors and their mates reminding her of the life she had been denied. Lila exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest where a dull ache settled—a longing for something more, something she had never been given.
A home. A family. A place to belong.
But for an omega like her, such dreams were nothing more than fragile, fleeting wishes upon the wind.
