Zendaya's POV
The morning light, usually a gentle balm, felt sharp and intrusive as I navigated the familiar hallways of the pack house. Each step echoed the chaotic storm in my mind, a relentless tempest of fear, confusion, and a burgeoning, unwelcome sense of destiny—however, the image of the young warrior's vacant eyes burned behind my eyelids.
I got to the kitchen and the scent of fresh coffee and cooked breakfast hit my nose, "Good morning luna" they all greeted, which snapped me from the food haze I was in, shocked at these same people who never regarded me as one now they do. I nodded slightly, quickly making a teacup and taking a few slices of bread and I left.
