I like to be left alone.

But when people don't notice I'm absent,

It hurts.

And I know it's my own fault.

For becoming invisible.

For isolating myself.

But just once I want someone to notice.

To truly notice and care.

G. P.

***

In some ways, pack life is simple.

It's easy.

Follow the orders, do your job correctly, and you'll be rewarded.

I've been training for two weeks now.

Two weeks and I have yet to visit the pack and see the surroundings.

Lilah's words remind me that the Alba Rosa pack is large. Very large.

I can't possibly walk and explore it.

I know the pack house is in the heart of it all, but miles upon miles of land still stand between me and the border.

Still this is my weekend. The day I'm not training.

And I've worked up the courage in my mind to go outside and explore.

I smooth down my pink striped skirt and black bow shirt.

"I can do this." I chant the words in the mirror. Deep breaths.

I look down at my hands. Green. I had been painting the clearing from last week. Atlas was looking down. It was painted through my eyes. Painted as if I were looking up at him while the soft folds of the green swayed around us.

The pack has in some way, become use to my hands. Almost treating them like one would freckles. They were a permanent fixture upon my body.

I'm greeted by some as I walk out. I don't want to ask Lilah to help me find my way around. Hopefully if I get lost, the others will help. Or I'll probably just make it a few feet out the door before deciding my day would be better spent inside, painting.

Walking down the road, away from the pack house, I sigh and take in the air of the forest.

I had called Mark yesterday.

Like I predicted, he had gone back to training, throwing himself into it, now that I was gone, and not needing his protection anymore. I had been a burden for my brother- and as much as he didn't want to admit it, the weight of me had dragged him down.

But it had been a nice call.

A call that reminded me I had someone.

I lose track of the time as I keep walking down the road.

Walking and walking.

I see several houses, but there is no one outside.

Everyone is probably busy training during the day, or doing their pack duty to help keep the pack running smoothly.

I stop when I see a building, hidden within the folds of the trees and foliage of the forest, but it's unmistakable what is its.

A clinic.

I walk closer to it, shrugging as I open the door.

The pack doctor is an important member of the pack. I don't remember meeting one when I arrived though.

"Hello?"

I call out into the empty clinic.

A female emerges, smiling up at me, "If you're wanting to see Doctor Schulman, he's in his office." She points down the hall, to an open door where light is flooding out.

I hesitate before nodding, thanking her.

Going to the frame, I look in to see an old man.

A very old man.

He slowly looks up, his breaths heavy and eyes bloodshot as he assess me standing within his door frame.

"Hello." He doesn't smile and instead motions towards the seat across from his desk.

"How can I help you?"

I clear my throat, looking around at the collection of pictures strung around his wall. My heart squeezes when I see a young boy. It's unmistakable, and impossibly Atlas when he was younger. An older woman, her head full of grey hair, holds him while laughing. Maybe a grandparent?

He watches me as I move closer to take in the photo.

"How can I help you?

His question startles me away from the image as I look back at him.

"I'm sorry I just...wanted to introduce myself."

I walk over and stick out my hand.

He pauses, looking at the paint that splatters it, before slowly raising his own.

"I'm Lexie, um...Atlas is my mate. I arrived here a couple of weeks ago."

The old man's eyes twinkle in delight as he registers me, "oh, You're the famous Lexie."

He grins up at me, his age suddenly not showing as his smile pushes back all lines.

"Sit, please sit."

I do as he says, pushing up the chair so that I can rest my hands upon the desk.

"I'm doctor Schulman. I've known Atlas since he was an infant pup."

I smile at the thought.

"Your hands...," he looks at my hands that are folded on his desk, "I assume you paint?"

I nod.

"I've always thought I would be a good painter." He raises his own hand, a slight tremble in them, "Doctor hands need to be steady. But now..." he shrugs and smiles at me. I shift, uncomfortable in my seat as he eyes continue to stare at my splattered marks.

"I would love it if...you painted something for me."

My eyes widen at the suggestion. He smiles and nods, "I know. Most wolfs don't like what they don't know. But being a doctor, I'm able to appreciate the finer things that life offers, instead of the brutality of violence."

I nod slowly, still unsure where this male is going with the conversation.

"I do have this," he pulls out a brush, and three colors. Red, blue and yellow.

Simple colors.

"I've always wanted to paint something on the wall. And so when I heard that you were a painter yourself- so many wolves come in here talking about your hands. But when I heard I asked Nurse Joy to buy some paints. So that I could ask you."

He softly pushes the collection towards me, "Please let me watch."

I'm stunned.

I don't know what to say or do as this male eagerly waits.

"What....do you want me to paint?"

His eyes light up, "Anything please."

I stand, looking around for a space within the wall.

I see it there, directly across from his desk- straight in his eye view.

"Is here fine?"

He nods, smiling now that I've accepted his challenge.

I grab the water cup from his desk, "I need to borrow this."

He holds his hand out, "By all means."

And that's how I spend my day.

In the strange turn of events, when I left the pack house, sad that I would be leaving my painting for a day, I instead managed to find this male, and a paintbrush within my hands.

I liked talking to Doctor Schulman.

He told me stories of Atlas when he was younger.

How the woman in the photo was his grandmother- someone Atlas called Nov-Nov. I thought it was adorable.

She had passed away though, but her presence in Atlas's life was big, by the way Doctor Schulman talked.

I realized then, that none of the stories mentioned Daisy.

She was never there, and I was to afraid to ask why.

Until Schulman answered it for me.

"Of course, Daisy, his mother just came back several years ago. She's done traveling. But she missed Atlas's childhood. She chose to be away from the pack and him."

I nod staring at the wall and the falling autumn leaves I'm creating.

"Atlas doesn't forgive her. Hell....I don't forgive her. She made her choice to leave him and us behind."

"To travel?"

I turn to see Doctor Schulman starting at me. "Yes...to travel. She was a wandering healer. She saved many lives. But now she's settled down. Permanently."

I glance at my hands, taking in the new colors that are on it as Doctor Schulman speaks, "You won't leave him though."

I look up.

"Why would I leave him?"

He shakes his head, "There is no 'why' because you won't. You won't make Daisy's mistake."

I look at Doctor Schulman and his age-old eyes, "You don't leave your mate."

He smiles at my words, "No...you don't."

We continue talking, conversing back and forth.

The subject moves on to his medical saves- different members of the pack he's healed and close calls he's witnessed.

Our peace is interrupted though as a loud crash sounds down the hall.

"What the?"

Doctor Schulman tries to rise, but the effort is too much, leaving him breathless and wheezing for air in his seat.

The door flies open. Meeting my eyes is Atlas.

"Where is she is she-,"

He stops when he spies me, standing there stunned with a paintbrush raised in midair.

"Hello Atlas." Atlas turns his murderous glare towards Doctor Schulman as the old man laughs.

"Looking for your mate?"

Atlas stiffly nods, his eyes flickering to me.

"She's safe and here with me," the old man's eyes soften.

I place the brush down softly within the water cup.

"I'll bring more paint tomorrow Doctor Schulman."

He nods and smiles, "Thank you Lexie."

Before I can reply, Atlas is gripping my hands, dragging me out of the Clinic.

"Atlas that hurt-,"

My words are cut off as he turns around and crushes me to him.

His lips slam against mine, hungry, desperate and fighting.

I don't resist him and instead let go- letting him have full control as he presses his whole self against me.

I shiver at the feel of his tongue darting out, tasting me before he pulls away, pressing his forehead to mine as he grips my face in between his hands.

He's shaking.

"Atlas...."

He growls.

It's a growl that tells me to be quiet.

But I can't help whispering, "I'm sorry."

He exhales deeply, opening his eyes to look into mine.

"I'm fine."

I don't believe his words.

"I just went to visit with Doctor Schulman," I whisper. I'm baffled at Atlas's reaction. But the pieces are slowly coming together. Don't leave him Lexie. Doctor Schulman's words ring in my head.

"I know."

We stay there, standing like that for several more minutes before Atlas pushes away.

He starts walking in the direction of the pack house.

Before I can change my mind, I quickly run forward, grabbing his hand and claiming it.

He looks down, startled, but I see a small smile form on his lips as he rubs a thumb across my hand.

"Let's go home," I say, tugging him away from the clinic doors.