Page 5 of The Raven's Alpha

As he pays and leaves, I can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. But as I watch him go, I can't shake the feeling that this isn't the end of it. The omega's parting shot still echoes in my ears: "You're not worth enough for anyone."

The bell above the door continues to ring out long after the group of omegas has left, the repetitive chime growing more grating with each passing minute. As the lunchtime and evening rush come and go, I feel my energy waning, my irritation growing. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally.

I know I should stay late and get everything done, but I just can't bring myself to do it. The thought of facing the extra work tomorrow morning is daunting, and I know I'll be beating myself up over it in the morning. But tonight, I'm done playing by the rules.

I flip the sign around on the door and turn off the lights, casting the bakery into darkness. The sudden quiet is a welcome relief. Igrab my jacket and hat, feeling a sense of liberation wash over me as I lock the door behind me. For once, I'm not going to let my responsibilities dictate my actions.

As I drive home, the darkness outside seems to mirror my mood. I'm tired of being alone, tired of feeling like I'm stuck in a rut. For tonight, at least, I'm taking a break from it all.

When I pull into my driveway, I'm not craving the usual comfort of a warm meal. Instead, I need to release the tension and stress that's been building up inside me. Stepping out into the crisp winter air, I feel the cold bite into my skin.

I shed my clothes as I walk, leaving a trail of fabric behind me as I make my way towards the trees at the back of my property. The familiar scent of pine and damp earth envelops me, and I feel my senses come alive.

As I reach the edge of the woods, I pause for a moment, letting the silence wash over me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling the chill of the air seep into my bones. When I open them again, everything seems different. The snow-covered trees seem to glow in the fading light and my body hums with a gentle warmth.

As a shifter, I'm used to adapting to this environment. The cold doesn't bother me, in fact, I find it invigorating. My body is designed to run hot, even in its human form, so a few inches of snow aren't enough to slow me down.

As I sink into the snow, my paws leave deep impressions, the crisp air filling my lungs as I take a deep breath. As the cold seeps in I can feel the tension in my body begin to release. I start to move, my legs propelling me forward as I gain speed. The snowflakes around me dance in the wind, landing gently on my fur before melting away.

I love running in the forest, feeling the rush of the wind through my fur. But on days like this, when the snow is deep and the trees are bare, there's not much to do. I've been stuck in a rut and I'm itching for adventure.

Being a shifter, I'm luckily spared the hardships that come with being a regular grizzly. I don't have to hibernate in the winter or spend hours searching for food. But being a shifter also comes with its own set of challenges, I've always been a bit of an oddity among my own kind. My pack doesn't understand why I don't enjoy hunting, why I don't relish the thrill of the chase. But for me, it's just not something that resonates. And now, being away from my home pack, I feel like an outsider even among shifters.

I'm about to turn back, when a loud, raspy squawk pierces the air, and I pivot to face the tree above me. I stand up on my hind legs, my eyes scanning the branches for a glimpse of the raven. For a moment, I'm at a standstill, waiting for him to reveal himself.

That's when I notice the raven's peculiar behaviour. He never approaches me, but instead prefers to hover above or perch on a branch, watching me with an unblinking gaze. It's as if he's sizing me up, or perhaps studying my every move.

I've grown accustomed to his presence over the weeks, and I've come to appreciate his companionship. He's a clever bird, always aware of his surroundings, and yet, there's something endearing about his friendly demeanour. Whether he's a shifter or not, I've grown fond of his silent companionship.

A couple of weeks ago, as I gazed out the kitchen window, I noticed a sleek black raven perched on the garden fence, his beady eyes fixed on me. It was as if he'd been waiting for my attention. I was intrigued by this sudden appearance, and over the next few days, I made sure to leave out a little dish filled with birdseed and dried fruits. Every morning, I'd rush to check the dish, and to my delight, it would be empty, but not entirely - there would always be a few crumbs scattered about, as if the raven had savoured every piece.

I began to feel like we were developing a peculiar bond. It was as if he'd taken to visiting me daily, not just for sustenance but for some sort of companionship. And then, something remarkable happened.After a few days of leaving food for him, I started to find small treasures in the dish. At first, it was just ordinary rocks, but soon they were shiny coins, and later, glittering crystals. I kept them all in a wooden box on my bedroom dresser, where they sparkled like tiny jewels.

My favourite treasures were the crystals. I had no idea where he found them - perhaps hidden away in a cave or nestled among the roots of an ancient tree. But it didn't matter; what mattered was that he'd left them for me, and I felt a sense of wonder and connection whenever I touched them.

I delved deeper into the world of ravens, after a little bit of research. I'm not surprised to discover that they're renowned for their exceptional intelligence. It's almost as if they're mirroring my own fascination with their mysterious nature. When I hear his squawk, I'm convinced he's greeting me - it's a "Hello" that's unmistakable in its tone. And then, when he repeats it, his voice takes on a gravelly quality that sends shivers down my spine. I'm certain he's saying "Hello grizzly," a name that seems to hold a special significance for him. This moment, more than any other, solidifies my suspicion that this raven is more than just a bird.

I’m not to sure how old he is and despite my uncertainty about his age, I'm grateful for the companionship. Perhaps it's because he's always hovering just out of reach, leaving me to wonder about his true nature. Whatever the reason, I find myself looking forward to our daily encounters, eager to see what new treasures he'll leave or what clever phrase he'll utter next.

Chapter Three

Darcy Mortlake

I've been spending most of my time at the grizzly bear's cabin, which has become my refuge. I usually return to my home at the top of the hills when the bear is away during the day. I enjoy exploring the woods and town, searching for hidden treasures or interesting trinkets. However, I avoid being alone in my large family home for too long. The silence and emptiness of the space are overwhelming, and it's difficult for me to shake off the painful memories of that fateful night when everything changed.