Phoenix Maplewood graphite

Wealda wanted to argue.  She wanted to deny that she had not earned this, that she was not the best to carry this.  Her teeth were bared within Redd’s mind, but for once, she did not make herself known.  Instead Redd sat down as defeat relaxed the slope of her shoulders.  She knew that Druid was right.

If she thought the pack needed her she would gladly remain as she was.  Instead she knew it was only a matter of time before one more suited replaced her, and in biding her time, she divided them.  If she could not trust her pack then she was no leader.  Her presence as such only lessened them all.

Maybe it would be the hunt wife.  Maybe one of her children.  Maybe it would be Berserker’s mate whenever one was taken.  Perhaps it would be the blood of her sister, returned to the Rise.  At some point, someone would come along with the ability and desire to breed.  They would dethrone her and Redd would only feel relief.  She would no longer need to feel the ghost of her mother’s presence, nor recognize with each day that passed how little she resembled her.

I don’t know.  It was an answer to everything after Druid finished.  She didn’t know who could change this.  She didn’t know if she wanted children.  Everything she had ever done had been for the Rise alone.  She did not know what her life looked like without that driving force.

That wasn’t everything.  She knew there was more, but the words wouldn’t come.  The realizations here had finally shattered the core of Wealda’s presence for the moment, leaving only Redd behind, and Redd did not know what she was meant to do next.