Lyra POV

The following day is uninteresting.

Clouds surround the group, and everyone stares at the sky in terror.

Lyra finds it challenging to get out of bed.

Every time it's cloudy, it looks like this.

There was a spectacular storm on the day she turned twenty-three.

It was during that storm that Lyra Wilcott realised she had no match.

York and her parents kept an eye on her, but they all understood that it was best to let her alone when she was acting up.

She felt dejected, and the grief was sitting in her chest.

This was the unfortunate thing to be unhappy about. Positive mate bonding prevented bad, overpowering feelings. You were all by yourself if you didn't have one.

She sat up, tired of gazing at the ceiling and its persistent nothingness.

She assumed it was always there, but having company made it more accessible.

She fumbled with the drawers on her bedside table, trying to find the medication she was prescribed for her episodes of depression.

Wincing, she takes two pills and swallows them dry.

That is just how the day goes by, with Lyra sitting silently and gazing at the four walls that surround her.

She eventually becomes startled out of her dazed condition by a knock.

She scouts, "Come in," her voice breaking fuses.

With a pitiful expression, a little woman with purple hair enters the bed next to her niece.

She greets the girl with a smile and a squeeze as she puts her arms around her. "I've heard you're having a bad day."

Lyra nods, not feeling up to a fight.

As always, she eases her niece out of bed and says, "We're going to go see the kids; they have so much energy that some of it has to rub off on you, darling."

"Is there ever a recovery?" Faintly, Lyra asks as she fixes her gaze on the mirror.

Faye averts her gaze and tosses her niece a dress with a sunflower motif from the closet.

Pulling a pair of black boots out of a drawer, she adds softly, "No, but you learn to live with it." She places the shoes next to the bed. Faye leads Lyrae on a peaceful stroll to the pack orphanage.

Lyra looks blank in front of her, utterly ignorant that some of the people watching are talking about her.

York looks at his father and says gloomily, "This can't keep occurring," as they both see from the mansion's windows.

"I am aware. But this is how she's destined to be. He sighs, "She informed me last week that she's as worthless as a human. She doesn't have a partner,r, and won't ever have one." She is limited to shifting, which she is doing less.

York shrugs and rubs at his attempt at a beard.

"Perhaps we might try introducing her to someone else?" Richard gives his suggestion a shake of his head and gives his kid a frustrated glance.

"Everyone else is paired up, and those who are' don't desire an unfortunate," he murmurs, feeling sympathy tight in his chest for his oldest kid.

"Why not locate something unfortunate for her then, rather than chatting like tiny girls every day?" Marie loses her cool and walks into the office carrying a mug of coffee.

Her abrupt approach startles the two guys, who were too preoccupied with their chat to notice her arrival.

They each stammer a little, offering justifications while their faces get redder and redder.

York, still a little taken aback by his mother's appearance, eventually gets to escape, saying, "They're all low rank."

Marie shakes her head and furrows her brow.

She shrugs and leaves the room, saying, "I have good information from Alpha Logan's mother that there is another Alpha who is Unfortunate."

"Whom?" Richard is racing after York as he screams and runs after his mother.

"I'm not sure. I can't do it all. Therefore, you should have to do part of the job yourselves," she snaps back, shutting the kitchen door in the men's faces.

The males stagger back, startled by Marie's sudden exit.

Lyra and Faye enter the orphanage and are immediately surrounded by little children, each one seeming happier than the previous.

"Everybody! Everyone!" One very young child, grinning broadly, squeaks and bounces on her feet.

Lyra says, "Hello, Martha," bending down to stroke the youngster on her shoulder as two other people take hold of her hands and yank her into the dining room.

"Everyone! We studied as you advised, and we completed our examinations! What's the reward for us? One person applauds, and another responds, "Yeah! You promised us a trophy if we performed well."

With a smile, Lyra faces the lads and kneels next to them.

"The award? You now have the opportunity to pursue and catch." She murmurs, then sprints away, the lads screaming as they chase after her.

When Faye hears her niece and the children walking heavily, she yells, "No running in the home."

Everyone falls silent, and those who are at fault apologise to Aunt Faye over the phone.

The kids are ecstatic to have someone else in the house, and there is an unmistakable feeling of enthusiasm and excitement.

Lyra feels better the longer she remains here, in this contented little bubble. She has a diversion, yet the melancholy is still present.

She turns around as soon as she's tagged and sprints toward the youngster who captured her. Little Mark chuckles and stumbles while attempting to run. He transforms into his wolf pup halfway through his slide, appearing utterly perplexed by what transpired.

Lyra walks over to take him up, laughing out loud.

Cradling the small dog, she casually descends the steps and walks past Faye into the garden.

Faye looks at her, glaring at the two of them while kindly shaking her head.

She screams after them, "No shifting in the house," and tosses a pair of shorts out the door for Mark.

Mark lets out a distressing whimper as Lyra places him on the ground.

Grinning, she places her hand on his head and strokes the area between his ears.

She comforts him, whispering, "Just imagine yourself in your human form," before stepping aside.

She hears garments rustling and bones shattering a moment later.

He mumbles, covering his magnificently hot red face, "I detest when it occurs."

With a groan, Lyra hugs him tightly. He was a shifter, an extremely early shifter. Puppies often switched around the age of twelve. It was impossible to ascertain if his shift was hereditary or the result of a fluke because no one knew his parents because he had been abandoned at the border soon after his birth. He had changed just before becoming seven years old.

"You're just seven; you'll be able to handle it soon!" Lyra gives him a cheery pat and brings him back inside, watching him closely since she notices that he still seems disturbed.

After shooting the kids into the play area, Faye goes to the stove and stirs something in a big pot.

"What's going through your huge head?" She looks at Lyra and asks, smiling.

"Bad Mark - He genuinely can't control it, but I've heard others make fun of him for his erratic shift patterns. With a nervous hand over her hair, she muses, "I was wondering whether I might train him."

After a minute of silence, Faye looks at her niece and frowns slightly.

With a sidelong glance at her niece, she answers, "That would be good for him, but you might have to take one or two of the others who have shifted too."

"Why?" Curious, Lyra gets up from her seat and asks.

With tears burning in her eyes, Faye bites her lip and returns to the stove.

"Why?" Lyra looks at her aunt again and repeats.

Without making eye contact, Faye replies softly, "Because people aren't convinced you have total control over your wolf, given she has no partner." Her niece looks dejected at the mention of it.

Lyra murmurs, "Oh," and returns to her seat.

She says, clearing her throat, "I'm going home," to which Faye turns around.

"Are you going to miss dinner?" With worry in her eyes, Faye poses the question to her niece.

"You know, my wolf may attack people since she doesn't have a mate," Lyra yells, covering her mouth with her palm as she furrows her brows.

Lyra blurts out, "Sorry, I'm very sorry, she didn't appreciate hearing that," and rushes out the door into the crisp autumn darkness.