The sunlight

lit her hair

and I stood silent,

wondering

exactly how many

angels

were walking around

with absolutely

no idea

of the wings

that are hiding

beneath their

own skin.

~Tyler K. G.

***

I'm sitting outside, painting the clouds.

I've never painted outside before, because I knew what the reaction would be.

Or so I thought.

I ignore the growing audience.

The eyes that are upon my back.

The sky.

Just concentrate on the sky.

I sit there for an hour more before I finally brave turning around.

About thirty pack member sit there, eyes wide as they take in my stained hands and sky canvas.

"It's beautiful Luna," one voice speaks out above the crowd.

I blush and turn away, nodding my acknowledgment.

My hand is shaking now that I know how many people are watching.

I silently regret my decision for going outside.

I just wanted to feel the sun on my face though.

It had been three days since the meeting in Atlas's office.

Jay told me to take a break. To not worry.

But the truth is, I wish more than anything, that he would treat me like he always did.

I wish I could go back to training with him.

I could say that it didn't matter now, that they knew the truth. But that would be wrong. People treated you differently once they realized how fragile you were.

They handled you with better care, not realizing that maybe, you didn't want to be made of glass forever.

I look up at the sky, squinting as I take in the bright blue.

The stark contrast of white.

It was cold.

I had on a jacket and scarf but they were light. I didn't want my movements to restricted when it came to painting.

Yet I didn't want the shivering of my frame to mess up the delicate lines that were needed for the clouds.

I close my eyes and ignore the ones behind me.

It's just me.

And then I go back to painting.

Another hour passes.

I can hear their whispers as they discuss the awe of what they are seeing. I listen carefully. Part of me misses this. I miss the feeling of joy that was found whenever you created a work of art. I miss the pure sense of freedom you could find.

Now I had become to adapt at it.

Now it was almost like a habit.

A routine.

My hands knew where to go.

My brush, upon instinct, knew what to trace.

It had been ingrained in me.

I've never shown this many people my work.

I could actually count on one hand, the number of people who have seen my paintings.

I sit back, looking at the darkening sky.

I wouldn't be able to finish it today.

Sighing I stand and flick a stray piece of hair from my face, feeling the wet paint settle upon my forehead.

I turn around and freeze.

Almost forty- no, close to fifty or maybe more, are packed around me. Some standing on the pack porch, the rest sitting upon the ground looking up.

I stay there, frozen, until my eyes catch sight of Atlas.

His long frame leaning casually against a post on the back porch.

He is smiling at me.

Quietly and as quickly as I can, I pack up my work.

The paint is not dry, and normally I would leave it there to settle for another hour or so, but not in this case.

I hurriedly pick up the canvas, keeping my head down as I make my way to the backdoor.

The crowd parts, allowing me through.

Small whispers are heard, some voicing out their thoughts, "It's very beautiful Luna."

"I was amazed Luna."

"I didn't know you could paint like that Luna."

I nod at each sentence, keeping my head down.

It occurred to me then that this was not how a Luna acted.

But then again, was I really a Luna?

I walk past Atlas, catching his eye before walking in the house and darting upstairs.

I don't relax until I am in our room.

I put the wet canvas on an empty easel, and lean against the wall, sighing as my frame slowly sinks down to the floor.

I jump when the door opens.

"Lexie," Atlas looks down at me, still smiling.

I look down, staring at my now blue hands.

He softly closes the door and sighs, sliding his frame down until he to is sitting on the floor next to me.

We sit there in silence until Atlas speaks, "You didn't even say a word, and yet you've already won the pack over."

I lean my head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh."

Atlas watches me, "Lexie. You are my Luna. With that comes pack responsibilities."

I nod, still staring at the ceiling.

I couldn't really process Atlas's words. Part of me thought it funny that life still went on, the pack still ran and I continued to paint- while he was still out there. Hunting me.

"I wanted you to settle in first, but...Lexie I can't hold it off forever. You are their Luna. They need you."

I look at Atlas then.

Needed me.

I've never had anyone who needed me.

Looking into those blue eyes though, I wonder if that's still the case.

"It just seems..."

Atlas nods, "I know."

We stare at each other.

My eyes widen when I watch his gaze flicker to my neck.

"One day Lexie, this will be behind us. One day we won't have this fear at our backs. One day," his gaze turns back to me, a hard clear determination in them, "you will be my Luna."

He leans in. I don't move as softly, gently, he kisses the corner of my neck, where the skin connects to my shoulder. "And one day, I will claim and love you in every way."

My breath hitches at his words. His face is close.

Our breaths mingle together, hot air combining into one solid warmth as we gaze into each other.

"My Lexie," he whispers.

I feel a tightness in my chest.

Reaching over I place my hand on his cheek, creating small smudges of blue. He leans in, closing his eyes to the feel as a soft vibration fills his frame from the contact.

"Why do you love me Atlas?" He laughs at the question.

"I love you because you have paint on your face."

"Uh?"

I can't stop the sound from escaping my mouth. He laughs again, his eyes opening to take me in.

"Because you are you."

I lean my head, letting it softly rest on his shoulder.

"I love you too," I whisper.

I feel his body relax.

I don't look up to see his face. But something in me already knows.

Instead, he wraps an arm around my shoulder, letting it rest on my head so he can softly stroke my hair.

We sit there together in the dark. His body softly hums- a low sound that shows his wolf is content. That tells me he is happy.

I smile into his shoulder and close my eyes.

sighhhh. I ship them so hard.

Featured art by: Robert Roth