Darius pulled Lucky through the lonely streets, he kept his gaze forward to his destination, Clara's house. He could hear the whispers that people made. He ignored the faces looking at him, some with curiosity, some with scorn and a few neutral.
"Who made him Alpha," he had heard some younger girl whisper.
His jaw flexed, but he kept moving. Lucky's hooves clacked rhythmically against the stone, and the horse, perhaps sensing his rider's tension, walked without fuss. He had grown used to the looks, but not immune to them. In some moments he felt as though he had deserved their anger.
More than ever, the sting of it rooted deep. Perhaps they were right. If he truly were the leader he claimed to be…hoped to be, then children like Clara wouldn't be left to sleep under rotting roofs and eat scraps like animals.
The horse whinnied as they made a stop at Clara's door. "Easy," Darius whispered.
