Who is she?

I stare at her, long and hard, trying to decipher the stranger’s presence. But no matter how hard I stare at her, no matter how long the question roams in my mind, it refuses point blank to give me answers that I need. I look over her figure but she’s too turned away from me for me to see her clearly.

Is she new? Cause I don’t even think I've ever seen her before. Maybe an exchange student? I don’t think I’ve seen her around school though, I would have noticed. I think. Look, it's kind of hard to notice other things or people around you when you're overwhelmed with life and have no time to adjust, okay?

I take a hesitant step in her direction, very curious of this stranger’s sudden appearance in the packhouse. What were they doing here? We’re they part of the council and were here to see the fuss I’d made about Adena? Were they going to disapprove of it?

A sharp jolt of intimidation mixed with fear slithers down my back. Was she going to shut it down because she found me an inadequate addition to the council if elders? Was it because of my age that she saw me as less? What did this mean for the future of my position in the pack and in the council? Was I going to be stripped of it in front of my family when the verdict was passed?

I felt the sudden pinch form in my eyes, signing that I was going to start crying any time soon if I didn’t stop these depressing thoughts.

With a deep intake of air into my constricting lungs that felt like dry sandpaper against my insides, I rub a softened hand across my closed eyes. Shaky though my hand is, it does the task in effortless ease. I stuff my claims hands in my pockets as I stroll towards her, hoping against hope that she doesn’t kill me with just one look.

Slipping and sliding past people that I give half awkward and half unsure polite smiles, I try to still my trembling hand.

Thinking of the worst things that could happen in whatever scenario that’s going to okay out isn’t going to help the pumping and bumping of my loud heart against my chest, but blocking it out might just help. I try to think of other things to distract the intrusive thoughts throwing a wild party in my head, one negative feeling firing out one after another.

Not willing give so easily, I think of all the good things that have happened to me so far since Monday. Making a new friend, which I hadn’t expected in doing nor had the thought crossed my already occupied mind, had made my week a seamless work of delight.

Getting closer to my birthday as the days melted and blended into the next without much hassle, a day I wasn’t so sure-still not sure- I was excited about or just wanted to avoid by all means, made funny positive feelings blurt inside like a warm swamp.

Both things being the only good thing that happened these past week, outshone all the bad that happened this week.

The memory of it lifts up and out the not so nice thoughts and replaces it with a light emotion of all the vile thoughts. I straighten my back and held my self with an air of confidence as I strut towards her, feeling the more determined to get to bottom of this witch each large step I take.

Chin up. Head held up.

What’s the worst that could happen? Its like I’ve said earlier, you can’t exactly take away a werewolves position in the pack. It’s impossible and it’s just not part of our laws.

with an air of confidence, determined to find out who the unknown guest is. I stop right beside her, steady breath coming out in low pressure, and tap her shoulder. Up close I can see the rest of her features clearly. Her light brown shade of skin which sports one or two freckles along the bridge of her upturned nose. Her light brown eyes looking at me in unconcealed curiosity holding a hint of surprise that’s quickly shielded by a slow polite smile lifting her Russet coloured lipstick lips. “Hi, can I help you?”

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I stick my hand out. “Hi, I’m Elizabeth. I’m a friend of the Alpha’s son.”

She looks at me then accepts my invitation fir a handshake. “Adela. I’m a daughter of the Alpha’s. The Violet pack.” Her dainty hand feels cool in mine. Sturdy but there’s no warmth in it. I try not to rein my hand back to myself, unease seeping into my pores.

The urge to look away from her dark stare is overpowering and for that I almost give in and admit defeat. But then I remind myself that I’m the Delta and I have as much right to be here as she does if not more.

Dread is the first emotion I feel before she finishes her sentence and starts onto the next one that tells me which pack she’s from. I was just about to whirl the other way rind and demand answers from the cheater of an Alpha on my friends mother. And they’re so in love too! Don’t think I dint muss the way they light up when they look at each other or are in the same room and happen to meet eyes. How could he do this to her? To them?

Shock is the second. She’s the daughter of an Alpha? She doesn’t look like one. I would have thought it would be someone who wouldn’t be caught in this party. I look down at her attire. Or khakis. But hey, if she says she is, I guess she is.

Relief is the third and the last. Thank heavens it’s not anyone that’s come to remove me from the council because if my seemingly brash decision about Adena. I live my job. I love being the only one that can request a personal meeting with the Alpha and Luna if I want to. I love bringing important issues to the forefront. I can’t-won’t-let someone else who thinks they know how to do my job better take that away from me. Besides, it’s not like they could, every pack has to have a delta representative in the council.

"So, uh, what brings you here? Pack business?" I ask, feigning want to continue conversation and not get more information about why she was here at this specific party. Shouldn't she be at like some other important pack function?

She shrugs. "My dad and the Alpha are friends so I guess they're hoping James and I are mates." Disinterest fans her tone, the first spike of any emotion from this strange cool person. Perhaps she doesn't want to be here anymore than I want to.

"And I take it you don't want to? Why's that?"

She circles the rim of her red solo cup, staring straight into my eyes with an intensity that almost majestic me shy away.

"Don't get me wrong, I like James well enough. I just….He gives me a bad sinking feeling in my stomach. I don't want to date or mate with any kind of person that spells bad news." She explains, self explanatory tone giving no more information than is necessary of her.

The refusal to give out more than what’s asked takes me off guard before the instant liking hits me for her upfront honesty, not minding the lack of willingness to divulge any personal information, to her.

The honest part of her-the part that she may or may have voluntarily given me- is a personal quality in a person that I like. It's traits like these that are, I'm now finding out, that are rare but when you find someone who's painfully honest and open with you, you hold into them like a treasure.

I try not to grasp her in a hug. Oh, I'm just considering making her a friend but we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot! How do I fix that? Maybe I could bond with her in her discomfort around James? That might just work.....

“I feel the same way. He just gives me the creepy crawly feeling of bugs in my skin" I add a shudder for dramatics, though knowing my words are true, believing my words as I believe that the night sky begets the morning sky blue so that she too may believe me. A perfectly sculpted eyebrow arches up in response but her posture and facial expression give no more information than that. That makes my work more difficult than it needs to be.

Can’t she just make this easier? Cants she see how much work I’m putting in just trying to be friends her?

She says nothing for a while, just stares at me as if she’s looking right at my soul and seeing all my flaws, analyzing everything that makes me who I am like a scientist using a microscope to look at bacteria, making me feel like a thing as tiny as such living thing that can’t be seen with the normal human eyes.

The dehumanizing scrutiny leaves me feeling bare under all my skin, a hollow skeleton of bone marrow and empty ligaments. This time, I shy my once confident eyes away.

“Not many people would stop staring into my eyes, with the way it makes them feel, they’d just continue thinking it’s some kind of contest or something, the sick fucks. But, you did. You’re a good person.”

My head snaps up.

What kind of……...?

Was-Was that some kind of personality and heart assessment? With a stare like that? Nobody does that! Is she insane!?

Her eyes remind me of a cat, feline adaptive photoreceptors closing in on anything and everything around her like a camera. I hesitate to nod under her thin non-shuttering gaze. I breathe out a sigh of relief when she turns her focus to something behind me.