Chapter 192

Olivia

Deciding that I wouldn’t let the Elders’ trepidation get in the way of my daily routine, I decided to take a walk through town that morning, hoping that the fresh air and the familiarity of the streets would help clear my mind.

The crisp morning air ruffled my hair as I made my way down the familiar path with Elliot and Aurora nestled comfortably in the stroller.

The birds sang their usual songs, but today, their melodies seemed laced with unease. People I passed seemed different. There was a shift in their mannerisms; hushed whispers were exchanged, and heads turned my way with furtive glances.

It used to be that our morning strolls would elicit smiles and a handful of women cooing over my babies, each one eager to hold and cuddle them. Today was different. The very same neighbors who had celebrated their birth now took deliberate steps to distance themselves from us.

As we moved deeper into the heart of the town, I noticed Mrs. Patterson, an old woman known for her sharp tongue and equally sharp senses.

She had lived in our pack for as long as anyone could remember, her wisdom and stories a vital part of our community’s tapestry. Yet, as I approached, her eyes widened in apparent recognition, and she took a noticeable step back.

“Olivia,” she said, her voice carrying an edge. “I’ve heard some concerning things about those children of yours.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Mrs. Patterson, they’re just babies. Whatever you’ve heard, I assure you it’s not true.”

She huffed, her eyes darting to the stroller with clear trepidation. “Old tales have a way of clinging to the truth, my dear. Your babies, they say they’re omens of darkness.”

I felt my cheeks burn with indignation. “That’s just a story. A baseless rumor.”

She wagged a finger at me. “Stories come from somewhere, dear. And in this pack, we’ve seen enough to know that ignoring such tales can lead to disaster.”

I squared my shoulders, preparing to defend my children. “So, what are you suggesting, Mrs. Patterson? That I abandon my children based on some archaic superstition?”

She leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “For the good of the pack, such omens should be cast out. Let them live as rogues, far from our borders, where they can’t bring harm.”

My heart raced, and I fought back the tears that threatened to spill. “They are innocent, Mrs. Patterson. My children have done nothing wrong.”

She shrugged, her gaze never leaving the twins. “Perhaps, but the pack can’t afford to take chances. Not when our very survival might be at stake.”

“They’re my children,” I hissed, my voice filled with barely contained rage. “And I won’t let anyone, not even you, harm them.”

Mrs. Patterson took another step back, her expression unreadable. “Consider my words, Olivia. Sometimes, personal sacrifice is necessary for the greater good.”

Before I could retort, she turned, her old joints creaking, and hobbled away, leaving me shaken and furious. I felt the weight of prying eyes on me, and as I looked around, it was clear that the conversation hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Whispers spread like wildfire, and the very streets that had once felt like home now felt hostile and unwelcoming.

I quickly turned the stroller around, my only goal to get back home as quickly as possible. With every step, a suffocating cloud of judgment seemed to envelop us. I wanted to scream, to shout at the top of my lungs that my children were not to be feared, but I knew it would fall on deaf ears.

Halfway home, however, I decided to stop at Angela’s house. She always had something comforting to say, and she loved the children. Maybe she would at least be welcoming to me.

“Olivia,” Angela's familiar voice called out from her porch. I looked up, hoping to see the warm, familiar face of my friend. But even her approach was hesitant, her steps lacking their usual confidence.

“Angela,” I greeted, attempting a cheerful tone. But my cheer faltered as I noticed her eyeing the stroller with a guarded look. “What’s going on? Why is everyone acting so strange?”

Angela seemed to struggle with her words. “Olivia... it’s just... people are talking. Rumors are spreading about the twins. About the Ancient Wolf.”

I felt a pang in my heart, my grip on the stroller tightening. “They’re just babies, Angela. Why is everyone acting as if they’re cursed? That Ancient Wolf was… well, ancient. It was bound to pass away eventually.”

“It’s because of the old stories,” she whispered, her gaze falling to the ground. “The last time an Ancient Wolf passed, a child born shortly after brought a plague upon our people. The timing is just all wrong.”

I felt a flash of anger. “That was centuries ago, Angela,” I replied, trying in vain to keep my chin held high. “Times have changed. We have modern medicine. It’s irrational to believe that my babies would bring harm to anyone.”

Angela said nothing. I watched as her eyes, although not unfriendly, darted down toward my babies with a hint of nervousness behind them.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of them, too, Angela,” I murmured.

Angela’s face turned pale. “Olivia, I’m so sorry.”

At Angela’s words, I felt my heart ache. Tears threatened to come, but I pushed them away and shook my head, swallowing hard. A lump grew in my throat, threatening to burst. “I thought you were my friend.”

She looked pained. “I am still your friend, Olivia, but I can’t deny our pack’s history. And with the Elders speaking of omens, even I find it hard to ignore the signs.”

“That’s just superstition!” I snapped, causing Angela to jump somewhat. “You’re supposed to be my friend, Angela, not some gossipmonger afraid of two innocent babies.”

Angela reached out, placing a hand on my arm. “I am your friend. Always. But I’m also a part of this pack, and I can’t just turn a blind eye to our history, to the stories passed down through generations.”

A heavy silence settled between us. Before I could muster a response, the sky began to cloud over, casting an eerie, darkened glow. An unexpected chill ran down my spine as a harsh wind suddenly blew threw the street.

“See?” Angela whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “Another sign.”

“It’s just weather, Angela,” I retorted, frustrated. But even as I said it, doubt crept into my voice. “Clouds. Wind. Nothing more.”

Angela looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and fear. Without another word, she turned and hurried inside her house. All I could do was watch in horror as her door clicked shut, as though I was some kind of walking plague.

I continued my journey home, each step heavy with the weight of the pack’s judgment on my back.

“To think that my own friend is turning against me because of… because of these stupid stories!” I hissed out loud to no one in particular. In response, the wind just blew even harder, and I felt my spine chill.

When I finally arrived at home, I stormed through the door, hoping to find solace within the walls of our home. But instead, I found Nathan sitting solemnly at the table, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

“Nathan?” My voice wavered. “What’s wrong?”