I was surprised to find Colin at my door this morning. In the last few days, we were being trained harder—we were being pushed to the extreme, so Colin and I no longer took the time after training to talk. We went straight home, exhausted, our limbs and muscles burning from the pain.

To find him standing at my door in the morning, just as I was about to leave, was surprising, to say the least.

He bore a half-cocked scowl, his red hair all mussed up from what I guess was tossing and turning. I quickly realized that he was still in his pajamas: a pair of sweats and an old white tee. He shrugged his shoulders, stepping into my house before I could invite him in.

"My number was eight, Retriever," Colin said as he sat down.

When he didn't continue talking, I assumed that he wanted me to cut in, to tell him something good that would cheer him up. But for the moment I had no idea what he was talking about. When on the subject of numbers, I had no idea what eight meant for him. I closed the door behind me, shrugging.

"I don't get it." I shrugged. "What does that mean?"

"Eight. Eight people will think I'll live."

"Oh."

I didn't forget about the betting pool either. It was still on my mind, just like his. Ten people bet that I would live—eleven if I counted Alpha Aisling's vote—and that number terrified me. Of course, not everyone participated in the bets, but still. Only ten? How many people thought that I wouldn't last through my Shifting? How many thought that I would die?

I stood in front of Colin.

"It doesn't mean anything, Maclerry."

He scoffed. "But you almost beat up Deering for it. It does mean something! Only eight! I get that I'm not the healthiest kid in our pack, but come on!"

Well, that part was very true. But in the last few days, he proved to be getting stronger. He was actually able to keep up with the strict training regimen that Brom had written out for us. He was getting better.

But that number had a tendency to make you feel like all that effort didn't count; all those times that Colin took me down during training didn't matter when all he could see was eight. Eight people believed that he would survive, but the only thing he could think about was how many people thought he wouldn't.

I wasn't the best at consoling people. With Meyer's family, all I could do was stand behind Reece and let him do all the talking. Right now, I wasn't sure if I should offer a comforting hand to his shoulder, or to give him some sort of pep talk. I was good at neither.

Instead, I just shrugged.

"I think you'll live, if that means anything," I said.

"Thanks." The sound of his voice made me assume that my supposedly helpful words hadn't helped him at all.

"Maybe we'll both survive," I told him, moving to sit down beside him on the couch. "Maybe the Fates will let us both live."

He gave me an incredulous look. "Do you have any idea how unlikely that is?" he asked.

I couldn't say anything about that.

With the strength of the pack deteriorating, the chances of all the participants surviving were slim to none. Surviving the Shifting was so important, but it made the Shifting itself terrifying. I've been told all of my life that this was important, that it was vital—but more importantly, the Shifting is something that you will be so happy to experience.

What was so happy about the possibility of dying?

Though we didn't know the exact details of the ceremony, we knew that the first shift would be painful—it could kill us.

You either live, or you die. There was no in between.

If you die, you're tossed out of the territory in white. Like, Meyer.

I suppressed a shiver, leaning back into my couch.

"Don't think about the number," I mumbled. "We promised Alpha Aisling that the numbers wouldn't affect us."

"Alpha Aisling—he thinks you'll survive, too," he muttered under his breath.

How could I forget that Alpha Aisling wanted me to survive? Out of all the votes I could have received, his was the one that affected me. Sure there was pressure, but now that Alpha Aisling had bet there was so much more than before.

With the bets out of the way, I expect you to survive.

His bet wasn't helping me at all.

"We'll both survive," I said, looking at Colin. "I'll swear on the Morrigan if I have to."

Mother was a tall woman. She often worked in the kitchen, or wherever there was a position open.

It was rare that I found her at home. More often than naught, she chose to stay away from home. She would find reasons to work in order to keep busy. When I was young, I thought it was because she didn't want to be idle; I thought she just loved working with the pack, providing for the pack. But when I grew up, I knew the truth.

It was me. She never really wanted to be around me. Father tried, but after a while, he simply did the same as her. But today, I saw her sitting, with a book in her hand and a pen in the other. She had her hair pinned up, loose and wild like mine often was. She sat, peacefully, until she looked up and saw me watching her. Immediately she tensed.

"I thought you were training today?" she asked.

As always, her words always seemed to be clipped. There was always that threat that she would just abruptly stop talking, that she would just stop and walk away.

"Brom gave Colin and me the day off," I answered.

She gave a curt nod before she looked back down at the book. "You should be training. Your Shifting is in a few days."

"I know." I moved forward, further into the living room.

I knew that it was fruitless to start a conversation. All my life, I was used to those few clipped words in the morning, before bed, from her. I knew that we never had a close relationship. She was Mother; she gave birth to me, and fed me, and clothed me, but beyond that—she was just Mother. I learned how to do most things myself; what I couldn't do I had others like Annabel Buckley, or Reece, teach me.

"Then why aren't you?" She looked up at me again.

I got Father's eyes, I was often told. Mother's eyes were bright green. Her eyes had a way of looking into you, through you, until they learned the truth. They also had a way of threatening you, if you didn't do things her way, but I didn't get that very often.

Today, however, they scrutinized me.

"I've been working hard," I said, moving forward. "I think I deserve to rest for a day."

"This is important." She stood, setting her book down. As she moved, she seemed to avoid me. "If you don't shift that night—you'll die."

"I know."   

"Then train. Train hard." She moved past me, and into the room. "Do not die."

This is it, I thought.

Our conversations wouldn't get past anything more than a few clipped sentences and scrutinizing gazes.

Surely, I hoped that deep down this was her way of telling me that she was rooting for me, that she wanted me to live because I was her daughter—not because of the shame that it would bring her and our family.

As always, I was silent after our talk. I stood there for some time, wondering if I should do as she asked; if I should go find Brom and ask to train a little longer today.

But without Colin, I wouldn't be doing much when it comes to training. We had to train together. It was one of Brom's rules. Colin had been ecstatic that he didn't have to train for the rest of the day. Hell, he nearly ran toward the mess hall, whooping as he rushed inside to get him something to eat—something warm, as opposed to the cold meals we often got during our breaks.

I looked at her door.

Sometimes I hoped that she would come back out.

I never ventured into their room; to me, it was off limits, as it should be.

Once they went inside, there was nothing I could do.

I drew in a long breath before I grabbed my coat from a hook. I'd have to find something to occupy myself for the next few hours, and I wouldn't find it in my living room, with its bland walls and empty feeling.

Luckily, the Buckley home wasn't that far down from mine. When I reached it I could hear Mrs. Buckley shouting at Reece.

It wouldn't be until his twentieth birthday that he got his own place. It would be small, with one bedroom and a bathroom, but it would belong to him. He wouldn't have to hear his mother whining about him cleaning his room, or be "confined to clothing because of his parents" any longer, as he would often say.

I reached the door just as he opened it.

There were things that Reece simply knew about me. He knew when I was gearing up for a fight, and he knew when I would start crying. More importantly, he knew when I had that rare conversation with my mother. He said it was always the look in my eyes, or the way my mouth slanted downwards—not quite a frown, but preparing to become one.

Reece had known me for so long that he knew me more than I knew myself.

But he was perceptive. He just knew things about people. He liked to watch people. He liked to learn about the way they spoke or moved. He was just good at those things.

So when he looked down at me he gave a long sigh.

"You only have to wait three years until you can move out of the house, you know," He said, beckoning me inside. "Just three years, and then you're free."

I walked past him, smiling at Annabel to hide what Reece could see. It was hard to hide it from Reece, but it was relatively easy to hide it from the rest of the pack. I didn't speak about Mother and Father, and so what happened behind closed doors really stayed behind closed doors.

"How are you doing today, Murphy?" Annabel asked me, smiling happily in my direction. She was always so warm, so welcoming, to me.

"I'm doing okay; Brom gave Colin and me the day off."

Her smile broadened. "That's good. You two need a day to relax."

It frightened me how Reece's mother was more of a mother to me sometimes. That response was what I had been hoping for—good. You need to relax, sweetheart. Instead, I was told don't die.

Reece gave Annabel a knowing look before he ushered me past her and into his room so that we could talk. I wasn't in much of a mood to talk, but being in Reece's room was a lot better than being on my own. I wanted to be away from my mother. I wanted to be far away from the Murphy madness.

I plopped down on Reece's bed.

"You know, Colin came to my house this morning," I said.

"You inviting strange boys into your house now?" he asked. I knew that Reece was joking, but I still frowned at him.

"He's scared that he won't make the Shifting; he can't stop thinking about the bets."

"The bets are gone, Eineen."

"Are they, though? What if there are still people within the pack who's betting that Colin dies? Or betting that I die? What am I supposed to do?"

He sat down beside me. "It's pretty simple, isn't it? You don't die. You go to your Shifting and you kick its ass."

"It's not that simple." I sighed. "If I knew what happened during the Shifting, I could maybe prepare myself a little better—"

"You know you're not allowed to know."

He was right. As badly as I wanted to ask him and berate him with questions about the Shifting, I knew that he couldn't give me any actual answers. Aside from the few things that Brom prepared us for, this was it. The Shifting was a complete and total mystery. I couldn't do much else except for wonder, prepare for the worst.

"I know I'm not." I looked at him. "But Meyer found out. The guy from March's Shifting told him."

Reece's face turned grave. "You don't want to know what happens during the Shifting."

I don't know how many times I'd heard people say that I don't need to know what happens during the Shifting. To hear Reece say that I might not want to hear about it made it all the scarier. I've had to hear people tell me that the Shifting is a wonderful experience, that you'll be a changed person afterward.

I just assumed that I would be going through some sort of second puberty. I assumed my voice would change, I'd get taller, maybe gain a pimple or two—but now, with the look on Reece's face (how his mouth formed a straight, thin line and his eyebrows seemed pushed together), I feared that it would be much worse than that.

I already feared that I would die, what more did they want me to fear?

Suddenly, knowing that eleven people wanted me to survive wasn't as uplifting as it should be.

At dinner, I poked around at my meal. With my mother's words ringing in my head, all I could do was think about the Shifting. No matter how much I badger Reece for answers, I was aware that he wouldn't give in and tell me the details I needed to hear.

As an official Oirthirian, Reece had gone through his Shifting. Because he had succeeded, he was forbidden to speak about the ceremony, except for the few chosen words that would give me hints.

Hint number one: I had to shift.

Hint number two: it was going to hurt a lot.

Other than that, he was tight-lipped whenever I brought it up, which I did the closer I got to my Shifting.

There was a short time-frame to go through with your Shifting. Within the first week of your eighteenth birthday, your body was at its strongest; it was on the precipice of changing, of becoming a wolf. But you needed a push to shift—and that was the part where everyone grew quiet. That was that part where everyone in Oirthir would change the subject, avoid telling the shiftless.

"Can I have another hint, at least?" I asked Reece.

He, on the other hand, was able to eat his food.

He didn't have the problems I had. The only thing he seemed to worry about was whether or not he could work in the gardens this week. He gave a quick shake of his head as he looked up at me.

He was more interested in the greens and potatoes on his plate than he was in giving me more information.

"You know the rules."

"Yes, I do know the rules," I said. "I know all the rules. I just need to know."

"It's the Shifting, Eineen." He set down his fork in a quiet manner. "The only thing you need to know is that if you make it out, you'll be official. You'll be a wolf, an Oirthirian."

If. He simply had to say that word at a time like this. Luckily, he seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat and leaning forward.

"Eineen—"   

"You know what Mother told me?"

"Can you not just call her Mother." He gave a quick shudder. "It sounds creepy."

"Because she is." She was like a creepy, stone-like wall that spoke to me, sometimes. "But do you know what she told me? 'Train hard. Don't die.' That's it."

Reece gave a gruff noise before he leaned back. If there was one thing I knew about Reece and Mother, it was that Reece despised her. I would use the phrase loathe, but it wasn't strong enough, and he didn't like it when I said it. Given our history, how we met, I understood perfectly why he couldn't stand her.

He took a large sip of his water, making it obvious that he was trying to cool down that temper of his before he said something he didn't like.

When he was done he sneered.

"It's not as if your mother's gonna change anytime soon." I could hear the malice in his tone. "Why do you bother talking to her, when you know she'll say things like that?"

"Because she's right, I guess." I looked down. "I have to train hard. I can't die."

I've seen the families whose children didn't survive. It was torture to watch them cry, to wail, for their children. But I've also seen how the pack looks at them; pity, ridicule. The child wasn't strong enough to be Oirthirian. They weren't strong enough to be a wolf.

They have never looked at the same way again.

I could imagine Mother holding that same blank face no matter what. No matter how often they spoke behind my parents' back, I knew that they'd be able to handle it. But I didn't want to put that on their shoulders.

As their child, their flesh and blood, I had to survive.

If there was ever an appetite, it seemed to have vanished.

"I'll be eighteen in a few days."

"Do you want to do anything?" Reece asked quietly.

"What should I do?" I asked, almost incredulously.

"We should do something." He leaned forward. There was a defeated tone in his words. He wanted me to be happy, I suppose.

You know, I wanted to. I wanted to look at him with a smile, and I wanted to be happy that I would be growing up. After all, there were so many things in store for me, once I succeeded in my Shifting. There were so many things I could do; I could visit the Trail. I could venture outside the territory. I could be a part of Oirthir, and that was something I always wanted.

I should be happy that I was turning eighteen. In a sense, I was, but the closer I got to my Shifting, the more I feared it.

It made sense to me why Meyer wanted to go through with his own so quickly, it truly did. Granted, I wasn't going to follow that path.

Once we finished our meals, Reece took our trays while I opted to leave the mess hall for the night. While I was only a couple of days away from my Shifting, that I would be eighteen and therefore an adult, I still had to obey a curfew. This meant that soon I'd have to tell Reece goodnight, and I'd be stuck in a quiet home hoping for someone to strike up a conversation.

I found myself watching the lit windows in Alpha's cabin. He was never far away, but somehow he was. Yesterday had been the first day I met him, and I had to admit that it was kind of pathetic. I was loyal to someone I had never met; I respected someone I had never uttered a word to. He was within my reach, and yet I wasn't able to reach out.

Instinctively, I reached up toward my Mark, reminded of what Cummins had told me. My Mark was similar—though Cummins' description was vague, so I had no idea how similar—to Alpha Aisling's. How close was that?

I was careful not to smudge the makeup—always, always careful—as I pulled my hand away. Soon, it would start to fade, the closer we got to my eighteenth birthday. It was the reason why we had to go through with the inking—tattooing our Marks permanently onto our skin.

Though, I was curious—would Mother be happy if it faded away? I wouldn't have to hide it anymore; therefore, she should be happy about that, right?

I sighed.

"Murphy!"

I whirled around at the sound of Beta Shaun's voice.

He carried a clipboard in his hand, looking down at it for a moment before he glanced up at me.

"Yes, Beta Shaun?"

He smirked; it was a rare thing for him. He seemed to take pride in having this cold, calculating stare that made you want to follow the rules and not wreak havoc. He had a way of making the most disobedient obedient again.

I, unfortunately, knew such a look too well.

He took a deep breath. "Alpha Aisling wanted me to ask if you've improved on your training, now that the bets have been taken down."

I could hear the sarcasm in his tone of voice, nearly feel it. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes, knowing that Beta Shaun would give me a disapproving grunt as a response. He acted more like an overbearing father than Beta sometimes, but I supposed someone had to be. I shrugged.

"I guess I am—Colin has improved a lot. He knocked me down pretty hard today."

Just recalling it made my back ache some.

"That's good—we need more wolves." He crossed his arms. "I'd hate to lose my favorite Retriever."

I flinched, as I always did. It was surprising to get anything endearing from Shaun—but only because he chose to be hard when it came to me. Tough love, if you will.

"There's plenty Retrievers. Just look at you."

"I said I'd hate to lose my favorite, not my best." He gave me a pat on the head before moving on. "And make sure Reece gets to work on time tomorrow, will ya? No more being fashionably late, got it?"

He walked off, shrugging away our little moment before he was calling out someone else's names, prompting them to speak with him. This was Shaun; he ran the pack as though he were the Alpha. In a way, I supposed that there were people who would have preferred him to be the Alpha.

But Alpha's were born—the Cavanah bloodline had been in charge since Oirthir came to be.

It was Alpha Aisling's birthright to be in charge.

I reached for my Mark again, my thumb running down a darker part of it before I walked back toward the living quarters.

It was his birthright to lead, and it was mine to follow.

I woke up to the sound of Reece throwing rocks at my window. It was late, and my head throbbed at the abrupt awakening. But, I still stood up, and I still opened my window to look two stories down where Reece and Colin stood in their pajamas.

Call us strange, but if there was one thing about our friendship that Reece and I were proud of, it was the ability to maintain a conversation without uttering a single word. He gave me a look and pointed toward the soil beneath his feet, and I understood him perfectly.

He wanted me to sneak out of my home.

Thankfully, it wasn't the first time that I'd done something like that. My parents were heavy sleepers, and often never noticed that I snuck out of the apartment in the middle of the night to sleep at Reece's. There were good things and bad things about my parents, and this happened to be one of the good things. I pulled on my shoes, considering neither of the boys had dressed up and snuck past the adjacent bedroom door of my parents.

It wasn't long before I ran down the hall and towards the stairs, trying my damnedest to be as silent as possible. Luckily, I made it to the bottom of the stairs and out the door before I heard any other noise. I paused, moving behind a pair of bushes outside. When the noise grew closer, I saw Colin rounding the corner.

"Are you comin' or what?"

I didn't question what was going on—I figured that Reece was the mastermind, and so he would know what to do.

When Colin and I reached Reece, he was waving us toward an old abandoned storage unit that many kids used to get away from their mentors and training duty. He ushered us inside, and when I peered through the door, even Colin looked surprised.

A decadent chocolate cake was on a makeshift table, with one single candle on top.

"Here's your something," Reece said quietly. "Happy Birthday."