Caught between a strong mind,

and a fragile heart

***

We enter my room.

Lilah looks around.

I blush from the embarrassment of having her look at my different sketches of the dark stranger.

Almost a hundred different drawings, crude, complete, partial or whole- hang and line the wall. Covering up my other works of the mountain scene, and forest sky I had painted years ago.

"Who is this?"

I blush again from her question.

I don't even know how to explain that he's no one. Nothing by my imagination.

"Well I'm glad I came in here and not Atlas."

That statement has me turning to her, sputtering out incoherent things as I try to explain.

"No...it's no one, just this stranger...I mean it's not a stranger, he's not real... he's...."

Lilah is staring at me as awkward silence invades the room.

I clear my throat, "My brother went to training camp and....came back and told me of a wolf who kept bothering him. Fighting him. And for some reason I couldn't get him off my mind, so to make me stop thinking about it I...painted him." I finished the sentence lamely, watching as Lilah's eyes dart around, taking in the galaxy sky that is above her.

"So this is really Atlas? Or at least what you thought of him?"

She smiles then, walking over to me. And then she smooths my hair. Just like how Mark would, "You are so cute."

I blush again at the statement.

"This is...incredible," Lilah walks around the room, distracted with the different colors and works.

Then she finds my closet.

"No freaking way," she gasps, pulling canvas after canvas out.

"Please tell me you did not paint this?"

I hesitate, not sure what the correct answer is before I see a tear fall from her eye.

"Oh crap," she laughs as she wipes the tear away, looking up at me, "It's just....too beautiful for me."

I stare at her, stunned.

No one has ever said that about my work.

But then again, the only person who has ever really seen my completed work is Mark.

Father turns away when I try to show him, and after a while, I stopped trying.

Mark would just sit upon the bed, quiet and thoughtful before dropping the picture and walking out.

"I don't think we can take all of these though."

I nod. I had expected that. Dad would probably burn them when he got home. Mark would try to protect them. But once he left for training, dad would be free to do what he wanted.

I felt tears form in my eyes at the thought.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong," Lilah softly puts a hand on my shoulder, making small comforting noises as I try desperately to clear my throat. I'm embarrassed that I'm crying in front of someone.

"It's nothing."

"I know it's hard to leave a pack," Lilah says, her hand continuing it's soothing motion on my back, "But everything will be okay. I'll look out for you. And despite what you may have heard, Atlas is a good guy. A great guy. You are very lucky."

Lucky.

I've never heard that word being applied to describe me.

I smile up at Lilah.

That same big smile I use that fools everybody.

It works as she smiles back down at me.

"There see? Nothing to worry about."

I nod, and turn around, still trying desperately to regain control of my emotions as I start pulling out different clothes from my closet.

It takes us less than an hour to pack everything.

"You can pick your favorite one," Lilah suggests. She's pointing to the pile of canvases.

I know which one already.

I shuffle through the stack and pull it out.

Lilah gasps, "Wow."

I smile, but there is real genuinity behind it.

I love this painting.

It took me weeks to finish it.

It was a picture of Mark's wolf, running through a red forest. The different shades of red all coming together; crimson, ruby, blush, scarlet and cherry.

And the blur of the amber shade of his wolf as it raises it's head to the rising sun.

It's a quick trip up and down the stairs.

The majority of the stuff is taken up with my supplies.

"Are you sure...I can take this?"

Lilah pauses as she lowers the box that holds my different acrylic paints.

"You can."

I don't say anything else.

A knock interrupts our work.

I open it to reveal Atlas.

"Everything is taken care of. All the documents have been signed."

I wonder vaguely how they could have been signed, if I wasn't there to sign anything, but then remember that they had control over this now. I had voiced aloud that I would go. That was enough consent.

Atlas pauses next to me.

We stand there, staring at each other.

I don't know what to say.

Don't know what to do.

He interrupts my thoughts though, when his eyes dart to the foot of the stairs in confusion.

"What is this."

Lilah stops in her work and looks up, "What's what?"

"This."

Atlas walks over and points to the different boxes that contains my paints and other supplies.

"Her art supplies."

Atlas glances at me before turning back to Lilah, "Art?"

"Ya dumb ass, haven't you heard of the fine arts?"

A low growl is heard from Atlas. I gulp, the sound audible as I slowly close the door and take in the scene.

"Lilah don't act like this in front of your Luna."

"I'm acting like this because it's my Luna."

They continue their standoff, each glaring at the other.

I take a deep breath, smoothing out my dress before stepping forward.

"Does your pack...not allow it?"

Atlas's attention snaps back to me.

His eyes roam up my figure, taking in my dress and flats. My hair clip.

"Wolves don't paint."

I nod. I already knew that. Wolfs didn't paint.

We trained. Hunted. Attacked and survived.

It was instinct. It was nature.

"Come on Atlas, it's just some paints, I don't see why everyone is freaking out about this."

Atlas turns to her, his blue eyes flashing.

Like fire.

Like blue fire.

I think of what colors I would use to paint.

What paintbrush I would start off with first

"Fine."

The single word has me gasping in relief, letting go of a pressure in my chest I had not even realize I was holding there.

He turns to me, eyes assessing.

"Thank you."

He doesn't say a word as he grabs a box and walks away with it, opening the door and carrying it outside.

"Don't worry," Lilah grabs a box as well, shifting the weight so that she can balance another one on top, "You'll be fine."

Part of me worries.

Worries because Lilah says this statement routinely every 10 minutes.

And I'm starting to realize that those words are not just meant as a reassurance for me.

They are said as a ringing chant, to reassure and remind herself.