Soren

Chapter Twenty Two

She stayed a week longer than she had wanted to. Seven days of boredom confined to a bed with nothing to do accept doodle on the napkins that came with her underwhelming meals. Soren wondered when she had become such a snob, somehow in her short span of time living with James, she had become used to the luxuries that he provided, good food, comfortable beds, hot steaming showers.

The person she had become appalled her, and she swore to remember her roots, where she had come from and what she should learn to expect and appreciate.

The only good times in the hospital were when Margot came to visit. The woman could talk for hours without taking a breath, and Soren was grateful to her friend for keeping her company while she recovered. James never stopped hovering, and while Soren appreciated the attention, he sometimes smothered her. He was always asking if she was warm enough, if she was hungry, if she was uncomfortable, and the only times he would leave the room were when Margot was over to visit.

Soren was glad to be on her way home. Couldn't wait for the soft mattress that awaited her, and the heavy quilts that weighed her down comfortably. The hospital was not a place she enjoyed, and despite having to leave in the confines of a wheelchair, she still got to leave.

Upon returning home, the first thing Soren noticed was the banner that hung from the front door,

Welcome Home Soren!

It was hand painted, and Soren had no doubt as to who was behind it. Sure enough, when James swung open the door, the culprit was waiting in the living room. Margot had spread an array of food out on the coffee table, and Matt sat looking impatient on a chair by the fireplace. Soren's heart expanded at the sight.

It had been so long since she had had any one to take care of her or worry about her. Yet here in the small living room of the cabin were three people that cared for her, her only little mismatched family.

They sat for a few hours in the living room, Matt regaling everyone with stories of the pack, and sharing embarrassing stories about James for Soren's own amusement. It was funny, and Soren enjoyed the light and uplifting atmosphere and yet she found it hard to come up with the appropriate level of enthusiasm. She was tired, and the weight of the week's events had not yet left her.

It seemed no one else gave a second thought to the death of Grace or what it meant for the pack. They had moved on without pause and for someone like Soren, it was a bizarre concept. True, Grace might have been trying to kill her, and yes, she had been angry beyond belief that she had dared challenge her for her place in the pack, but her death still hit Soren hard. Grace had been another person, another living, breathing thing on this earth, and now she was gone, and to Soren, that meant something.

It didn't even appear that the wolves had held any sort of memorial for the poor girl. She had been somewhere in the range of twenty years old, with a whole life left to live, and Soren couldn't figure out why no one seemed to care.

Excusing herself Soren rolled her chair out of the room and into the bathroom. Staring at herself in the mirror she tried to identify the old her, buried somewhere within the image of the girl she had become. On the outside she looked mostly the same, and she was sure to Matt and Margot she was the same girl she had always been. She wondered if James could see the difference, or if it was only her who felt the way her soul was being warped into something completely new and foreign.

She lost track of how long she stayed hidden in the bathroom, away from the stories and the eyes of her newfound family. She wondered whether or not she was happy with the person she was becoming, the person who shared feelings with others, but who felt less in general.