The forest had become Scarlett's sanctuary, a place where her small world felt larger than the fortress walls and freer than the eyes of the pack. But today, as she walked along the winding dirt path, she felt a thrill of anticipation that she had never experienced before. Misty had promised to meet her near the clearing by the old oak tree—a spot Scarlett had claimed as her own since the early days of her childhood.
When Scarlett arrived, Misty was already there, crouched low behind the trunk of the massive oak, her chestnut hair catching the sunlight as she peeked out with wide, mischievous eyes. "I was hiding!" Misty called softly, jumping to her feet and grinning. "Can you find me?"
Scarlett laughed, a clear, musical sound that she hadn't heard from herself in weeks. "You're too easy to spot!" she said, her eyes scanning the branches and leaves, though she knew exactly where Misty had been hiding.
Misty's laugh echoed across the clearing. "You're no fun. You're supposed to be the challenger, the brave hunter!"
Scarlett shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. For the first time, she didn't feel the weight of judgment pressing down on her. Here, she was not weak, not ordinary—at least, not in the way the other children saw her. Here, she could be just Scarlett.
They spent the morning running through the clearing, trying to outwit each other in playful games of hide-and-seek and mock battles with sticks they claimed were swords. Scarlett's small hands grew calloused, her legs tired, but she did not complain. She had learned early that strength was not about keeping up with the others, but about persistence, endurance, and the willingness to try again. Misty was relentless, teasing her constantly, but Scarlett had begun to anticipate her friend's moves, and by the end of their play, she felt a quiet satisfaction.
As they collapsed in the grass, panting and laughing, Scarlett felt a sudden pang of doubt. "Misty… do you ever feel… different?" she asked softly, her fingers tracing the blades of grass. "Like maybe… you're not like everyone else?"
Misty tilted her head, studying her with curiosity. "Different? How?"
"I… I'm not wolf-born," Scarlett admitted. "I can't run as fast, I can't jump as high. Sometimes, I feel… useless."
Misty's eyes softened, and she placed a reassuring hand on Scarlett's shoulder. "Scarlett… being wolf-born doesn't make you better. You… you have something they don't. You keep trying when everyone else laughs at you. You care when others would ignore. That makes you… stronger than they will ever be."
Scarlett blinked, the words warming her in a way nothing else had. For a long moment, neither spoke, letting the wind move through the trees like a gentle balm over their worries. In Misty's gaze, Scarlett saw acceptance, something she had never felt from the other children.
Their moment of calm was interrupted by a sudden commotion near the edge of the clearing. A group of children from the pack—older, faster, and crueler—were running past, laughing and pointing in Scarlett's direction. "Look! It's the weak little girl!" one shouted, and the others joined in, hurling insults and snide remarks.
Scarlett's chest tightened, the familiar sting of humiliation cutting through her like a cold blade. She wanted to run, to retreat into the shadows of the forest where no one could touch her, but Misty's hand squeezed hers.
"Don't let them see you afraid," Misty whispered. "They feed on fear."
Scarlett drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to stand taller. She lifted her chin and stared at the children, though she did not respond. The pack children, unused to such quiet defiance, faltered for a moment before continuing on, muttering under their breath. Scarlett's pulse raced, but she felt a flicker of pride. She had faced them without tears, without running.
Later, they sat by the riverbank, Scarlett skipping small stones across the rippling water. Misty watched, quiet for once, as Scarlett concentrated on making each stone bounce. "You've gotten better," Misty said softly. "I've never seen you like this before."
"I practice," Scarlett admitted, smiling faintly. "I have to. I can't let the others make me feel… small forever."
Misty nodded. "And you won't. Not as long as I'm with you."
Scarlett felt a warmth bloom in her chest. Misty was the first person who had ever spoken to her without judgment, without expectation. With her, she could simply be herself—a girl who wasn't fast, wasn't strong, wasn't wolf-born—but who was learning to survive, to fight, and to stand tall in her own way.
By afternoon, the girls had returned to the fortress, their hands streaked with dirt, their hair tangled, but their spirits lighter than they had been in weeks. Zeus watched them from the balcony, his large arms crossed over his chest, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Scarlett moved with a newfound confidence, her laughter echoing down the courtyard.
That evening, after supper, Zeus called Scarlett into his study. The room smelled of old parchment and polished wood, a place she had always associated with quiet learning and solemn discussions. He gestured for her to sit on the edge of the desk, her small legs dangling.
"You've changed," he said softly, though his eyes were sharp, studying her. "You're learning something important out there."
Scarlett looked down at her hands. "I'm… trying," she admitted.
Zeus's expression softened. "Trying is all that matters. Strength is not measured in leaps or in speed. Strength is measured in courage—the courage to face the world even when it mocks you. And today… I saw that courage in you."
Scarlett felt her throat tighten, a mixture of pride and shyness. "Do you… really mean that?"
"I do," Zeus said firmly. "You are my daughter. You carry your mother's heart, and my own. That makes you stronger than any wolf-born child who laughs at your feet. Never forget that."
Scarlett nodded, feeling a small flame of determination ignite within her. The path would not be easy—she knew that—but with Misty by her side and her father's unwavering guidance, she felt ready to face another day.
The days turned into weeks, and Scarlett continued to carve out her place in the world, however small it might seem. She practiced archery alone in the forest, the bow straining against her fingers, the arrows finding the trunks of trees again and again. Misty joined whenever she could, learning alongside Scarlett, encouraging her, and sharing small jokes that made Scarlett's laughter ring like music through the forest.
Even as the pack children continued their whispers and stares, Scarlett began to learn a quiet strength—a resilience that came not from speed, or power, or the bite of a wolf, but from the steady knowledge that she had people who cared for her, who would never abandon her. Misty, with her gentle determination, had become the first true friend Scarlett had ever known.
One day, as they rested beneath the wide branches of the old oak, Scarlett spoke softly, almost to herself. "I wonder… maybe one day I'll find a place where I truly belong."
Misty reached over and squeezed her hand. "You will. I'll make sure of it. And until then… we have each other."
Scarlett smiled, feeling a rare sense of peace. She didn't yet know what the future held—whether she would be stronger, faster, or even more remarkable than the world had expected—but for the first time, she felt that she could face it. Not alone, not afraid, and not powerless.
And as the sunlight danced through the leaves, glittering on the river nearby, Scarlett realized that perhaps ordinary was not so small after all. Perhaps ordinary was the first step toward something far greater.