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Chapter One

Raewyn

Over the years, my village has only grown smaller in numbers. There aren’t many of us left. Our people have left to go live in the city where life is easier and more fun. I’ve heard a lot of stories about living in the city, and nothing about it seems easy to me. And I think it sounds more scary than fun. There are a lot of people and noise. Everything costs money. There is violence and murder. To me, it sounds awful. Which is why I plan on staying in my village forever. Technically, we’re a pack community, but the word village sounds nicer, and not all of us have packs.

We have a large piece of land that we reside on, with plenty of space between households so everyone has their privacy. There is a main circle that is our center point. We gather here for different events, or sometimes just because we want to socialize. We grow our own food and have livestock that help sustain us. There is a river not too far that we get water from.

When I was born, there were twenty-three people living here. Now we’re down to twelve, with most still looking for their partners—the people they will choose to build a pack with. Though, there are a few of us here who have chosen to live our life alone.

One of those people is me.

I’m happy where I am and being by myself. I love my life. I tend to the garden, feed the animals, and deliver the community food to all the households. I’m important here. I don’t need a partner to fulfill my life, though I’m not against it. I’m just happy with how things are.

Our community has different household dynamics, and that’s something I love about the place I call home. We have two packs that live on our land—one made up of an omega and her two alphas, and another with two betas and an alpha. There are two omega women who live together because they’re best friends. Then there are people like me who live alone. No two households look exactly the same, and nobody here thinks they should. The freedom to live our life the way we choose is the reason we stay.

Maybe someday I'll find someone I want to share my little corner of the world with. Maybe someday I’ll find my scent-match because the universe thinks it’s time. Or maybe I will be alone until I take my last breath. Whatever my future holds, I will be satisfied with how I choose to live my life. I have everything I need.

Our differences doesn’t mean this community isn’t a family. We look after each other. Help each other. We grow what we can, trade what we have, and share when someone needs something. Nobody keeps track of who owes who. If I have more tomatoes than I can eat, someone gets tomatoes. If someone’s roof needs fixing, everyone who knows how to swing a hammer will show up. It’s simple. Fair.

Maybe that’s what people in the city don’t understand. They think living this far out means we’re going without. I think they’re the ones missing something. You can’t find this kind of community out there. It just doesn’t exist in places like that.

That doesn’t mean the city is useless, though. There are things in the city we all need, but I choose not to get those things myself. Not only because the city is an hour away, but because I just don’t want any part of it.

As an omega, I have a heat once a month, but I choose to use suppressants. The only way to get those are in the city. Thankfully, we have someone who delivers such items to us. He should be here any day, because I’m running low on my suppressants.

Thankfully, he works on a bartering system because he doesn’t care about money like most of the city folk do. I have an array of lotions, salves, and soaps. It’s my bartering chip with the other community members, and anyone else I may need something from.

We all work together, but it’s only fair that one hand washes the other. Meaning, even though we help out as much as we can, there are extra things we do to get special things in return.

Of course, if someone truly needed a salve, I would hand it over no problem. But typically, we all have items we trade so no one ever feels taken advantage of.

Willow, for example. She makes the best apple pie I have ever had. So when I want a pie, we trade. Rose makes the softest blankets I have ever touched. I traded her a year’s worth of soap for one, and it was well worth it. It keeps me warm on the nights it gets cold.

We all work together as a community, helping each other out, but we make sure to keep things fair too. Another way we do that is by having responsibilities, and right now, I better get to mine before the chickens get angry with me.

My house is closest to the animals, which isn’t a coincidence. Most people don’t like the smell, but it doesn’t bother me. I like being in nature and being close to the animals. It is convenient too. Being near them helps my tend to them, which is my responsibility in this village.

I get the eggs and milk the cows before feeding the animals and making sure they have water. That and organizing the villagers food rations for the day takes up most of my morning.

Walking to the river one way takes a little over five minutes, and I can only carry so much.

The men do take turns heading that way to get bigger amounts, but when we need it on a smaller scale, like I do, we take the trips as needed. I don’t mind the walk. Being in the forest is comforting to me. The animal sounds. The smells. The cool breeze by the river. All of it, to me, is home.

Once I have all the food separated into the household baskets for the morning, I start my deliveries.

I deliver eggs, milk, and fresh fruits and vegetables to the cabins. In the evening, everyone returns their baskets to me so they will be ready in the morning. Delivering takes me two to three trips depending on what’s in the baskets because I can only carry so many at a time. There are seven households, including mine, that I bring food to. What I bring isn’t all we can eat or have, it’s just the community offerings that go to everyone. Though I tend to the community garden, I have my own garden too, as most of us do.

I deliver baskets in order of distance. Willow is always first because she’s the closest, and Tiger is always last because he’s the furthest away.

Tiger isn’t his real name, of course, but it’s the nickname he gave himself when he joined our community fourteen years ago. I will never forget how excited I was to see a new person join our community who wasn’t born or bonded into it. He was a traveler looking for a place to live, and we welcomed him with open arms. At first, a few of our people were wary of the stranger, but he proved himself trustworthy when he helped rebuild all the houses after a bad storm. He even showed the men a new way of putting up the walls that made them slightly more sturdy. Now, Tiger is a valued member and the person we go to when we need something big fixed. He’s handy and thorough.

He’s alone, and even though he says he’s fine, I can tell it isn’t by choice. So I always add a little extra fruit to his basket, hoping it’ll make his day a little brighter. There’s something about him that tells me he has a dark past, though he has never mentioned it. It’s just a feeling, and I could be entirely wrong. There is no judgment here, though. Tiger is like a big brother to me.

The walk to his cabin takes roughly twenty minutes, and in the opposite direction of the river. He was originally put this far out because he was new and some villagers worried about trusting him, but even after he proved himself, he didn’t want to move closer. Even though we have empty cabins since so many people left to go to the city, he says he likes his home and doesn’t want to move. I understand that. I wouldn’t do it either. My home is my home.

I knock on Tiger’s door and wait for him to open it. It’s taking longer than usual. Maybe he’s still sleeping. Sometimes he stays up late.

“Tiger? I have your food,” I call out and knock again.