"Catch on fire and people will come for miles to see you burn." -John Wesley
The Great War was a horrible time for the supernatural world. As brothers fought against brothers, another war was breaking out in the shadows. At the time, I didn’t understand much of what was going on. I was too young. I knew someone was hunting us; I knew we were running. Werewolves are not immortal or invincible, just much harder to kill.
I hear whispers of someone called the hunter around the campfires. Whispers of someone with silver in their veins, who tracked werewolves and other supernatural’s with a scary precision, someone who disobeyed all the rules. Someone who cut down anyone who stood in their way. Some said the hunter was a werewolf; some said they were something more, something other. They became a ghost story to us. We are top predators after all, and it is called youthful ignorance for a reason. Being the daughter of the alpha helps feed into that ignorance as well. My father, the king of alphas, at least in my eyes, was unbeatable.
He taught me everything I know, passing down wisdom so I could take over the pack when it was my time. He knew it, I knew it, my best friend (always ready with a purple-eyed wink and a smile) knew it, and so did my twin brother. My twin brother was one of my best friends; we trained together, ate together, worked together. We told each other everything. Until one day, he stopped laughing. He became sullen and angry, resentful. The light went out of him, replaced by something I couldn’t name. My best friend- pink and red hair always flashing- told me not to worry; these things happen. But I did. I always did.
My mother said it was the burden of growing up. My father said it was the burden of growing up in my light. I prayed it would pass. It never did. Time passed, seasons changed, and he became angrier, the war became harder to avoid, my best friend disappeared, and soon it was time for our initiation into the pack. We had to go hunting.
Welcoming my wolf like an old friend, I shed my human skin as we hunted. Following our elders’ lead, driving our prey to the pack and finally taking one down all on my own. Victory, short and sweet. That night I howled along with my pack in celebration.
The alpha stands proud at the head of the pack and begins to howl a low and mournful tune. First, the luna joins, and then the rest of us, one by one, lifting our voices until a sweet medley of notes fills the night sky. It was a song of triumph that swelled and filled the pack’s heart with energy and hope. When the last note faded, the forest fell utterly silent — as if even the stars were holding their breath.
Once I have been initiated into the pack, the war takes a turn. More wolves are found dead with wolfbane in their system. The dragons withdraw from our world as well as the fae. More and more of our people start to look at me as the war progresses. So far, we’ve been able to avoid joining, staying on the outskirts of the war. It is up to me to decide if we will join. My parents are tired and don’t know what to do. I don’t want to fight; I have an old friend who directs us to safe houses. We should be safe. We should have been safe.
You can never be safe with a rat in your midst.
It was the screaming that woke me up. Great, terrible screams that filled my heart with dread. It was a dark and cold night. Even with my enhanced eyesight, I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face. Where was that screaming coming from? Why was there screaming? Then my eyes began to sting, and my lungs hurt. Smoke. Fire. Screaming. There’s a fire! Someone stumbles into the room, smelling of blood and fear.
"Wake up! Wake up!" The luna shakes the rest of us awake; her eyes are full of terror. "Run, little ones! Don’t try to take anything with you!"
Her eyes widened, and I began to scream.
Blood was coming out of her. It was everywhere.
Before I could move, two more of our numbers were cut down.
The hunter found our safe house.
I run, dragging anyone I encounter on my way. But one by one we keep getting picked off. I find a small crevice to crawl out of, swallowing a scream; no one else has made it. I ran into the forest, following my instinct to just get safe. Get. Safe! But something makes me look back. Screams of my pack still fill the air. All I can see is the safe house on fire; it was a slaughter. I fall to my knees and weep.
No one got away. No one but me
Luna, remember your daughter.
-N
