Page 1 of Rejected By Wolves

Chapter One

Lita

Nomatterhowdarkthe night, the sun always rises in the morning.

It’s the inscription written inside every book my guardian has ever given me, and I’m so familiar with those words that they’ve lost all sense of meaning to me.

Of course, the sun always rises.

It’s the constant that dictates our actions.

Every day, we rise with the sun to serve our pack.

The kitchen of the communal dining hall in the centre of town is our workspace.

It’s where we cook, clean, and repeat. With around three hundred residents to feed at every meal, day in, day out, our small team works to a rigid schedule that doesn’t allow for much slack.

Alina nods at me when I walk back to the kitchen after cleaning up the last of the breakfast tables.

The dishes have been done, and we’ve got enough time to take our regular half hour break to eat our own lunches before everyone else begins to arrive to be served theirs.

I swoop in and start taking the plates out to the picnic table in the back yard, not allowing my guardian to do all the work. Alina moves too slowly to stop me, and if any protest leaves her lips, she knows I won’t hear it. I find our co-workers out back already.

Emily is stretched out on the sun lounger next to the table, already passed out cold.

I put the plates down on the table, and Astor re-arranges them based on the contents.

These older women are creatures of habit, and it’s been easy to fall in line with them.

There’s safety in the familiar. It feels nice to have that sense of security.

I go back for the rest of the plates, and Alina follows me out this time with a jug of water and five glasses stacked inside each other.

Our last team member rounds the corner into the yard as Alina sets the jug down on the table.

Cora gives me a smile as she crouches down next to the little boy who’s clinging to her skirts.

“Look who I found,” she says, ruffling his dark hair.

Little Adam looks up at me with his big, dark eyes.

His lips stay flat. He’s a very serious five-year-old.

I crouch down, and sign to him, “Good morning. Are you staying for lunch?”

He frowns, not signing back as he normally would.

If there’s one thing he always seems to enjoy, it’s interacting without the need to speak. It’s odd that he’s not showing his usual enthusiasm for demonstrating how well he can sign.

I look at Cora. She shrugs at me before she puts her arm around him and asks him what’s wrong.

He blows out a breath, seeming frustrated. After a second, his eyes sparkle and he starts to sign.

“Not a good morning.”

A chill comes over me as I look back at him.

He always looks solemn, but he doesn’t usually have anything bad to say.

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