Drops of rain turn into a downpour, obscuring the road and soaking everything in its path. Amber eyes flecked with gold take it all in while her forehead goes numb from resting against the cold of the window glass. The slight murmur of voices on the radio fills the cabin to make up for the silence of its occupants.

Amara doesn’t move except to flick her eyes sideways where she catches a glimpse of her parents. Her mom is hyper-focused on the road, waist-length dreads half piled on top of her head in a bun while the rest flows free; Caramel skin so similar to Amara’s cast in shadows from the rain clouds. Her dad has his chin-length dark blonde locks tucked behind his ears and a slight furrow to his brow as he taps away on his phone. The blue light from the screen illuminates skin the color of the California sand dunes they explored when Amara was a kid.

Amara holds back a sigh and returns to observing the blurring landscape. It had always been them, a tight nit trio. Unfortunately, life is ever-changing, and apparently, it is their turn to begin anew. Perhaps life is like the rain. It morphs in the blink of an eye, droplets becoming storms and touching everything caught in its wake. It can devastate just as easily as it can cleanse and bring about new growth. Which do they have in store for them?

It had been a miracle that they stayed this long on their own and she is well aware of it. For the portion of her twenty years that Amara can remember, they had never settled down with a pack. Wolf shifters are pack animals. That is where they thrive; working as part of a whole with clear dynamics. Despite that, her parents had been happy to remain isolated...until now. Something changed, she could sense it in the muted tension that tinges the air tasting bitter on her tongue.

“Kid, are you alive back there? Maybe Rik should sing, it’s impossible to ignore that shit” her mother's husky voice teasingly breaks through Amara’s thoughts. Ulrik balks at his wife’s playful insult then turns to look at his daughter who is attempting to hide the amused smile on her lips. “You love my singing, don’t you cub?” he questions, humor lighting up his stormy eyes.

“I love it as much as mom loves someone talking to her before she has coffee in the morning” she shoots back with a grin full of mischief. The comment earns a cackle from Elsie who reaches back to fistbump Amara, sharp brown eyes never straying from the road.

“You both wound me so” Ulrik pouts and slumps back into his seat. The familiar banter soothes some of Amara’s nerves. No matter what challenges lie ahead of them, this will remain. Their family will remain. That is all the reassurance she needs and they gave it without even realizing it. Peeling herself away from the window, Amara fixes the curls that are slightly disheveled from her previous position and happily leaves her melancholy behind in favor of listening to her most important people lovingly bicker, fiddling with the pendant on her necklace.

“Can you guys stop being so gross and in love right in front of me?” Amara quips with a raised brow. Ulrik winks at his wife who gives him her best deadpan face and looks at her daughter through the rearview mirror. “Put up with it brat. You’ll be dealing with our fuckery til we’re gray and old” Elsie retorts and honestly, Amara wouldn’t want it any other way.

It isn’t very long until they are pulling up to a roadside motel. They had decided to stop and freshen up in a room before arriving. They had been on the road for days and first impressions are supposed to matter. Amara tucks the pendant back beneath her top and keeps her focus on grabbing her overnight bag and walking with her parents up the worn concrete steps leading up to their room. Her mind wants to dredge up her earlier anxiety and she struggles to simply stay in the present and hold on to the ease from before.

The hotel is obviously old, still sporting remnants of décor from way back In the seventies. The sign flickers, the letters advertising their free WiFi are missing the w and the e have been replaced by 3’s. Walking into the suite is like a blast from the past that Amara was not even alive for. The walls are covered in water-damaged yellow and brown paisley wallpaper. The carpet might have been orange at some point but is now a faded brown of some kind.

“If we leave here with smallpox I’m torching the place” Elsie snarks, lightly kicking the bed frame which creaks ominously from the tap. Amara shares a skeptical look with her mom who is getting pushed along to the bathroom. She will have to wait her turn so she passes the time by checking her phone and resolutely ignoring the spider making its residence in the corner of the room.

Their little family had always moved too much for Amara to make lasting connections. They were nomads, traveling where they wished and keeping their possessions to a minimum so they could pick up and go without a hassle. Sometimes, Amara would watch groups of students walking along together or riding in a car and wonder.

She loved their lifestyle, it had exposed her to all kinds of culture, food, and people. She had worked a bunch of different jobs and enjoyed the experiences. Inevitably, though, they would pack up and leave all of it behind.

What would it be like to look at her phone and have messages from friends? There are a few that kept in touch right after she left but slowly the communication would lessen until they completely stop. It would never work anyways. There was too much about herself and what they are that needs to stay hidden. Real friendships, strong ones, can not be built on a foundation of lies even ones by omission. But now...maybe now will be her chance to experience it all. The seed of excitement helps push away the creeping anxiety once more.

At record speed, they all shower and change so they can be back on the road for the last of the drive. Amara throws on one of her favorite outfits before she can freak herself out by imagining fake scenarios where a shoe breaks and she falls on her ass in front of everyone or some pretend cliché mean girls scoff at her and she is forever branded a loser before even getting to know everyone. How very high school. It is so beyond the realm of realism that it is easy to push them away. Still, the well-worn black jeans, white tank top paired with an army green bomber jacket, and beloved high tops are security blankets.

“Come here Mara” her mom waves her over to where the mirror is. Amara admires Elsie’s style. She is wearing wide-legged pants with a geometric pattern over chunky heeled black and white boots and a white oversize dress shirt tucked into the pants. The older woman's dreads are now tied up in a bun and her makeup is light and effortless.

“You know, my mom isn’t supposed to be hotter than me. Could you try to be a little more frumpy? Maybe pick up a mom jean and ugly sweater or two?” Amara wisecracked and gets a playful swat to the arm in return. “You’re more than fine brat. If anything, I’m just trying to keep up. Now let me fix your hair and you can use some of my makeup if you want” Elsie turns her and gets to work.

Amara didn’t have time to go through her wash day routine so Elsie just uses a mix of water and leave-in conditioner in a spray bottle to bring the curls back to life. They now lay nicely down to her mid-back, parted to one side so a few curls dangle in front of one eye. The younger woman got her love of a good red lip from her mom so she carefully applies the liquid lipstick to her full lips then dobs a little concealer under her eyes and finishes with some subtle bronze eyeshadow and a coat of mascara.

“Time to go min blomster” Ulrik points out, pointing to his watch. Elsie mutters something about no one rushing her but still gives her husband a quick peck on the lips before she and Amara clean their stuff up and they hop back into their car, Ulrik taking the driver's seat this time, leaving the smell of paint thinner and wet carpet behind.