The leaves fall, a warning for the next frigid winter. Wind whispering in the ears of the new mothers, echoing songs of a distant spring. Fleeing birds, hiding animals, and dying insects.

A pale woman and her fiancé waited nine months for this moment. October 5th, 2001, 11:05 p.m. A child was born without the shared ring of a lifelong bond, but didn’t cry about it. This was a third child, first of a second family, loved dearly by the products of the first family. A father’s only daughter. The name he chose was Jessica, but the mother liked Jenna more.

Despite the girly name--instead of taking on the color pink, the young child took on orange. The color of changing leaves, the color seen scattered tauntingly over a lawn before the frosty stab of ice and snow. A back-breaking chore. A chore on a time limit.

Despite the girly name--instead of dolls and horses, the preteen chose mud and wolves. The vicious ancestor of the household pet, running through the blazing, leafy forest. Her head high because her pack is with her. A coat thick enough to deflect the slash of glacial air. The pack stays warm together. The pack stays safe together.

Despite the girly name--instead of wearing skirts and dresses, the teenager wore jeans. The dull cobalt highlighting her cold blue eyes. Both colors showing their strength against the spectrum of striking yellows to dangerous reds. Reminding the town of the incoming merciless chill of December rain. A deadly rain. A frozen rain.

A pale girl and her fluffy, black sidekick are waiting four painful years for this moment. June 2020, 2:26 p.m. The battle will finally be over, but the war will have only begun. Pressure now to move on, move out.

Time for leaves to fall, a warning for the next frigid winter. Time for the wind to whisper into the ears of new mothers, to echo songs of a distant spring. Time for birds to flee, animals to hide, and insects to die.