Feyre's POV.

Free falling.

My legs dangled off the edge of the roof as I contemplated that word and how it severely summed up my life. I frowned, my fingers nimbly flicking past pages, covering the bookmark I’d placed on the page I’d paused at, the rake I’d brought up with me forgotten.

‘Feyre? Are you done there?” Grace’s voice jolted me out from my musings and my palms slapped down on the concrete ledge to stop myself from going over. I casted a glance beneath me and gulped, thoughts of how I could’ve been a pile of goop on the cobbles, assaulting me. I pushed back, till the back of my legs scrubbed the smooth surface of the concrete and were no longer suspended in empty space, and then I stood, taking up the rake and hiding my book beneath the pile of leaves before anyone could come up to check on my progress.

Autumn had come and the trees scattered around the house had lost their lushness as their leaves fell onto the rooftop and not only did they die, suffering from the repercussions of this blasted season, but I also wilted more on the inside, being delegated yet another part of the house to take care of, more time for myself and my sanity being taken away from me.

Sighing, I made sure that the book was well covered by the leaves and picked up the wide basket I’d swept them into, hauling the pile downstairs. The first time I’d been told to sweep the leaves down, I’d taken Becky’s words literally and actually pushed the leaves over the edge of the roof. That wasn’t the first time I’d seen Becky’s cruelty but it was the one that stuck the most, because she’d involved my father and he’d sided with her. He hadn’t said so many words or shown his disdain, but it was in his lack of thought and the way he casually agreed that I should haul baskets of leaves down to the backyard, that hurt.

I shook off those melancholic thoughts as I walked through the back corridor, the one that no other person in the house uses. I huffed in annoyance when I had to drop the basket to unlock the back door, and then to pick it up again and head outside. I headed directly for the washroom’s window and put the basket under it – Becky and Grace hardly ever come to the washroom and my room is directly on top of it, so they wouldn’t by any chance look out and see that I hadn’t disposed of the leaves yet. I wondered if I should pull my book out from the pile but then decided against it, since I’d be stepping into the kitchen immediately as I got in.

Wiping my hands on my faded denim shorts, I headed back inside, locking the doors behind me. I was on my way to the kitchen to get started on lunch when my name was called again.

“You better get your ass down here, Feyre, or I swear to God…” It was Becky doing the yelling and from the laughter and her whispered words, I could tell that the end of that sentence wasn’t pleasant. Grace laughed louder, more to get a rise out of me as my footsteps were loud against the wood flooring. I schooled my features into a pleasant one that didn't show my dislike for the both of them just as I entered the parlor.

Grace was huddled against the window seat, a blanket thrown over her thighs as she scrolled through her phone. She didn’t look up as I entered but I could tell that she knew I was there – she gave an extra air of haughtiness whenever I was around her. My eyes flitted to Becky and I saw the scowl she threw my way, before she sank into a recliner. Her Poodle, Fraulein, jumped up into her lap and let out a bark when she saw me, her tail wagging.

I gave her a small smile and looked up at her owner, watching as she placed a heavy hand on Fraulein’s scruff. “Forget lunch. Grace and I are stepping out to it and her father isn’t at home.” It always shocked me whenever I heard Becky refer to my father as Grace’s father, like she was the only child and I was just a help in the home. It annoyed me and Becky knew that, which was why she took a liking to addressing father that way in my presence.

“I need these clothes washed,” she pointed to a huge pile of heavy clothing stacked on top of what was once a huge loveseat, “And the backyard should be debris free by the time we come back, we might take our evening lunch there.” They wouldn’t. It was just something Becky would say to give credence to her cruelty, to show that there was a need for telling me to do something so unnecessary.

“Of course.” Sighing, I rushed back to the roof to take the rake I had left there earlier and then rushed back outside. I went to get everything done quickly so that I’d spend my afternoon alone reading – a quiet time for me.

The yard was cleared in a couple of minutes and I was pulling the last basket of dead leaves to dump by the fence when a rustle sounded from my left. Startled, I dropped the basket and twisted around, swallowing my hell when I saw grey eyes staring at me from a dark, heavily furred face.

My eyes squinted as I took a hasty step back, wondering if I should run inside to alert Becky and Grace that a wolf had taken up residence in our backyard. Or maybe the other hunters down the streets, because they’d know what to do with it.

I was about to turn fully and hurry down the bend to the gates to call for help when the wolf let out a grunt and rested its head down on a giant paw. Unnerved and confused, I halted, trying to make sense of what the wolf was doing.

My father, coming from a long line of hunters, who kept monsters and other unnatural species in check, had always spoken freely of how wild, untamed and dangerous these beasts could be, but watching this wolf look at me with resolve and something like pain in his gaze, made all my father’s lectures flew out the window. And before I could regain that sanity that told me to put myself and my safety first, I moved closer to the wolf, one arm extended like that could ward off any attack coming my way.

It let out a whimper and my eyes zeroed in on a large gash on its left hind limb. My humanity had always been a weakness of mine, as Becky put it and it caused me to sprang forward, squatting directly in front of the wounded beast. I already brought out my handkerchief from my pocket and I made soothing noises as I pushed closer to its injured limb, making sure that I kept an eye out for any movement from it, but it just watched me, and after a while of me wondering if I’d be mauled once I took hold of its limb, it pushed said limb to me and I let out a relieved sigh.

The bandaging happened in record time and I quickly shuffled back once I was done, the reality of my situation catching up with me fast. I could’ve been killed!

“Stay. Let your wounds heal,” I pointed deeper into the bushes as I said so and it got the memo because it slowly and painfully stood and lumber’s deeper into the greenery till I couldn’t see wolf fur. I breathed out in relief and stood. Well then.