The Girl Who Wears Red

Chapter 1

Meoquamee's POV

I awoke from a death like sleep, startling Kilala from her peaceful sleep curled beside me.

"Moon beams! What time is it?"  The digital clock on the table beside me blinked 12:00 AM. I groaned, just great! My phone read seven AM.  Scrambling towards the closet to pull on something before rushing out to grab a hair tie.

"If I'm late just one more time-"

Ki stretches, shifting back from her cat and sitting up gracefully.  Growling in irritation at my disturbance.

"Sorry, Kilala, I'm in a hurry!  We can't afford for me to lose this job."

She didn't stop growling, as she leveled me with a glare.  Laughing I grab a sweater while putting on a pair of shoes.

"That sweater doesn't match, Amee.  And besides it's supposed to be sunny today."

"I'd rather be safe then cold Ki, the weather man could be wrong."

"Yeah, and cats can drink milk without needing a litter pan." I could practically hear her eyes roll.  After knowing Kilala for as long as I have it wasn't hard to recognize her bent out of shape sarcasm

"Ki, you know I like to find my own way, bumbling as it may be through the weather.  It's the only adventure we can afford right now, so let me be and don't drag the color wheel into it.

She flopped down before flipping over on her side away from me.  A smile makes its way across my face at her morning moodiness.  All this could be solved with a second bedroom, or even by my sleeping on the sofa.  However, Kilala couldn't stand to be alone especially at night.

"Don't be so grumpy, I'm leaving and you can go back to bed. I'll see you tonight.  Try and remember to wipe your paws off after using the box, will you?  I hate the feel of litter between my toes at two in the morning!"

"Yeah, yeah whatever."  Kilala huffed.

"I mean there is always the toilet."  I shrugged in mock innocence.

Groaning she dove under the covers.  Completely ignoring me as I rushed to the car, grinning despite the rushed morning.

——————

The bell above the back door jingled merrily as I entered the Bread Box's kitchen.  The smell of baked goods never failing to remind me of my fondest childhood memories.  Of harvest times spent with my aunt and cousin in the kitchen, and of cold winters cooped up.  With I comes a safe nostalgic feel that is much apricated.

Thanking the moon above as I fist bumped the atmosphere.  One minute to spare!  Who ya gonna fire now, Mr. Adams?  With my apron securely fastened I busy myself with readying the bakery for the morning rush.

Melle's POV

Today was irritating and frustrating.  I am the Alpha, not some babysitter!  When I was young, I took education very seriously.  What is with todays youth?  My wolf snickered.

"You sound like an old man.  Back in my day, blah, blah, blah,"

"Do I sense your views differ from mine on the matter?"

"Yes, actually, they do.  For starters, who was it that used to pull rank on the werewolf teachers?"

"That doesn't count, remember Ms. Hill?  That was one omega who didn't take lip from any wolf.  Being the future Alpha meant nothing in her class other than extra homework and detention."

"Okay, what about the time you skipped town to go to the water park with the weird kid who could snort milk?"

"That was because he promised to teach me how to do it to.  So technically it was for educational purposes,"

"So, your trying to tell me, you skipped school for a better education? You know what, I give up!  Live in your delusion and be happy,"

I grinned as I headed towards the forest.  Just before I hit the tree line a smell seeped into my senses, engraining its self in my very pores.  My wolf begins to prance in anticipation, whining and pushing me towards a small rectangular building.  Begging to go inside and find the source of such an addicting intoxicate.  I could focus on little else as I strode forward reluctantly.  The pack needs me.  Yet, it will only take a few minutes.

Walking into an empty shop might have been unsettling if it hadn't been for the intensified odor permeating the quint place. The swinging doors in the back suddenly part as a woman backs through, carrying a tray.

"Welcome to the Bread Box, what can I get started for you?"

She has yet to look at me, as she places the tray into a display cabinet gently.  Standing to her full height, dusting her hands on her apron, and raising her eyes to mine.  Me world stops as I take in her breathtaking features.

"Mine!"

(A/N Kilala is pronounced Key-la-la. Meoquamee is pronounced Me-aqua-me.)