Chapter Sixty-Six. Past and Future.
1952. The East Riding of Yorkshire. Wetwang Pack.
Jayne’s Point of View.
“Ey up lass,” my dad, our pack alpha tells me as I walk into the living room, at the pack house farm.
The layers of the net that sits under my grey circle skirt that I made last week, swish as I move to the shag-style cream sofa, with dark wooden armrests that double up as side tables, when pulled out and sit down.
“You look lovely. Pet,” my mam, the pack luna smiles at me.
“Aye, she does. But lass, you are going to get your best skirt dirty when you’re milking the cows,” Dad raises his eyebrow at me.
You would think I was still a pup. I am, in reality 95 years old. Yeah, I may look like a girl not yet one and twenty, but that is the reality with werewolves, we age slo
