Silvertip Mountain Echoes of those before

Tempest responded with a grin at Raissa. "Thanks. Most my injuries should heal completely soon. Except for this one." She twisted her shoulder so the spiraling mark was visible. She hoped the faes, who she already felt a strange kinship with, weren't too horrified by the carefully marked scar. her green eyes hovered anxiously on theirs, waiting for their reaction. She didn't feel like blurting out the whole sickening story of a dark father and his daughter.

In the back of her mind, she wondered how different her life would have been if her father were a different wolf. Perhaps her sibling would still be alive. Maybe her mother would still love him, and she could have grown up in a real pack, not a group of coyotes. She would have never been scarred. and her father would protect her from the horrors and dangers of the world, instead of being one.