Odin's Prize

Shifting Of A Body

Chancing a glance out my window, the howling East wind picks up in the swirling moody grey sky above.

Mom is looking through my books that hold my life's work. Dad is watching her with a hand on my shoulder.

With each page flip, her mood deteriorates.

A snap of jaw, a growl of low tone that rumbles the quality of the air in the room. She's making the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise. Looking over my drawings from years ago, her sharp blue's pierced into mine, questioning things that I haven't wanted to tell her because I know how much it will hurt her.

I want to become something my mother despises with her entire soul, a healer.

Picking up the white piece of paper that Odin gave me after he took my punishment, is held shakily in her hand. Her eyes are reading over it, holding on the picture of the plant that was used to heal him of his symptoms from the cookies he ate.

His words to me

For my monster

This is the plant that stopped me from dying after I ate from your hand. It grows on the ledges of the cliffs above our sea; it's a beautiful place that I will take you someday.

The picture is drawn with hands that don't have the smooth lines or curves of an artist, but they are hands that tried to get the image right with the way the pencil slate has been erased several times to start over. He detailed every single part from flower top to root tip; he missed nothing. He has an eye at least for every detail. I feel very wicked for having him take my lashes when I made him so ill.

He might not be as bad as I think he is, but I still think he isn't my mate. That maybe he's just doing this for revenge on my father.

"Follow me." That's all mom says as she brushes past us, down the stairs with her footsteps making her anger known, her display has all wolves scurrying away from the path she is on. Dad is looking down at me with his smile that tells me it's going to be fine.

Following my dad out of my room, passing by the twins' room, they're in their beds pretending to recover, milking it for all it's worth. Our eyes meet and behind my father's back, I shoot the finger to both of them with my tongue out. They shoot their finger back, but instead of a tongue sticking out, they raise the side of their lip and flash me teeth. It takes my entire resolve not to leap at them with a fist that is already closing up tight. My nails are digging into my palms.

They point at me in a silent laugh; next time, I won't be so sloppy.

My dad turns their way and they instantly close their eyes, hands on their stomach with small grimaces on their face. I've got to think of something beyond the stories Lana has told me about how she gives out her justice.

Never screw with a healer, even Alpha's are leery of what they have the power to do to an entire nation.

Once outside, the wind is no match for my mother's outwards turbulence.

Icy eyes are pointing, digging into me. Her fingers curled tight around my arm, dragging me along the grass; my feet tripping over her feet, making me stumble clumsily along the path.

"Victoria stop it." My father's voice just behind us.

"No, she wants to be one of these creatures, she needs to see what they are." Her voice is screaming at the top of her lungs. The only time my parents fight is because of me.

"How long have you two been keeping this secret from me?" Her tears are coming down her face now, making my own come out too.

"We haven't been keeping any secrets. Victoria, we just knew that you wouldn't be happy."