Wolves that Hunt
I, Brawler Jeanta, pulled my lazy butt out of my cozy, warm bed just to end up right back in it.
Sharing a room with the puppies, also known as my siblings, it takes effort to get up and not step on a delicate hand. Collapsed around me and my litter mates in a circle, their little chests rise and fall in a smooth motion. I fight the urge to lay down next to them and continue to doze, my pack sense kicking in. I tiptoe around them, trying to make my steps light and soundless. Brimstone, my younger brother groans and turns on the low mattress that he claimed for last night. As wolves, we never know when we might transform, so our houses are sparsely furnished and always smell of wet paint. I rub my eyes, the world of color greeting me. When you transform you don’t have color vision. Last night was a nearly full moon, and it half triggered my shift. I wince, not remembering the totality of the night.
I hear my parents downstairs already, thought it’s still five in the morning. “Brawler, why do you have to get up in the middle of the night…?” Bloodstone groans, her red hair all over her face. I smile at her, poking her exposed belly with a bare foot.
“It’s five am.”
“Exactly, the middle of the night, Brawler.” She said. I growl playfully and she jumps up, suddenly full of energy. “Fine, I’m getting up!” she said, her voice stumbling as she tried to escalate the situation. I didn’t want to wake anyone up, so I put a finger to my lips and exited the room. Before I leave the hallway, I hear the familiar thump as Bloodstone’s body hit her mattress.
“Well, well. The new comer wakes.” Mother said, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the little spat with my sister. As a werewolf, our natural senses are heightened. Along with fangs and sharp claws, we’re no different that humans or vampires.
Not that humans want to be associated with us. They hate any supernatural creature, and with the political support they have, it’s hard to change minds.
My father kisses me on my head as I chug a cup of water. It’s too early for breakfast, but not for a run. I pull on a sweatshirt and walk out the door. “Hey! Don’t forget to be back by nine! School!” Mother said as she gave me a hug. I smile at her, flashing my porcelain white canines, the serrated edges perfect for cutting through meat.
She knows I don’t have school anymore.
----
I lope outside, finding my best friend, Smoke, waiting for me with her brother, Ember. Unlike me, Smoke’s litter only had her and her brother in it, while I have Zach, Hunter and Maxine. Smoke smiles when she sees me, waving unnecessarily.
“So, how are you on this rainy day?” she drawled, her eyes heavy with sleep.
“Bad night last night?” I tease. Ember snickers, his laugh echoing in the still daybreak. Smoke punches me gently, as she usually does.
“I could still beat you.” She said as we begin the daily walk to the forest. A well beaten path marks out our running trail. Sabine and Ace, Smoke’s parents, insisted that we try to shift during our run. Once we are in control of the transformations, we could join a real pack. Joining a pack was a milestone in a werewolves life, a rite of passage.
We start out, the steady thrum of our feet hitting the ground a metronome to our heartbeat. I focus on breathing, matching it to every movement I make. As our bodies begin to change, our back legs weakening until we can’t walk on them, our faces elongating into snouts and hair spreading across our body. As we bust through a bush, we are wolves.
I’m the biggest one, my powerful body hitting the ground in time with the gray-blue wolf that was Smoke, and red-brown one that was Ember. Though I can’t see their coats, my mind still knows the tones I saw the first time they shifted. My light brown fur, a picture match of my hair color, as my parents tell me, is blown in all different directions with the changing wind as we bolt through the thick trees. Ember lets out a howl, but his wordless cry of joy is carried away.
I stop.
My friends jolt to a stop behind me, confusion wavering in their colorless eyes, watching me, trusting me to tell them what I knew, because something wasn’t right here, but I didn’t quite know it yet.
Like the moment before calamity, clarity hits, slamming into my magnified sense.
’Wind’ I growl, suspicion creeping into my growl. Why was there wind in the forest, surrounded by trees? Trees that would have otherwise block the wind? Smoke lower her center of gravity, her ears pinned against her head and teeth bared. Ember pricks his ears, listening for any sound of movement. I hear something and lash out, catching between my teeth a very surprised looking teenage boy. With a start, I recognized this one. His name was Markus Holwton, a Child of the Night. A vampire.
I didn’t really interact with him at school, but he was known for his bad attitude and constant hunger. He must have been following us! The nerve! I press my jaws together just a little bit and his face contorted in agony.
“Let go, ya stupid wolf!” he shrieks, his hood almost coming off his head. I should have known. Vampires are known for their incredibly unnatural speed, good looks and silver tongued manners. Right now, he was neither good looking, fast or silver tongued. I let go, growl at him and back away, never breaking eye contact.
“Heh, I knew you were dumb.” Markus lunged, his fangs growing in, nails morphing into claws. I dodged, realizing my mistake too late. His eyes narrowed into cat-like slits, focusing on the one thing I could give him.
Food.
Markus was hungry, his stomach empty from the shortage of blood. The humans had been taking better precautions with blood banks and transfusions, cutting the amount of blood that could be bought for hungry vamps.
His lack of fresh food didn’t mean he was slower, weaker or less dangerous, though. Any creature is far more deadly when it is desperate.
We were evenly matched, no power that one had the other couldn’t counter. So we had to fight. I raised the fur on my ruff, raising my hackles to bear long, sharp teeth.
As he bore down on us, we ran in and out of his line of vision, like gazelle on the savanna, trying to distract him as he hunted for the life-giving blood he needed. Ember shot out a paw to trip him, Smoke nipping at his calf, trying to immobilize him.
I was getting cocky, dodging with less time than before to make a point, when he got me. Just a swipe across my flank with those sharp claws, and I crumpled. I let out a howl of pain, hoping upon hope, that maybe another werewolf would hear me.
To my astonishment, howls responded to my cry. Deep howls, near inaudible paws that drew closer, and the huffing of breaths. Markus froze, his heightened senses picking up the same thing I heard. I snarl softly, a challenge.
Then Sabine was there, picking me up with her enhanced strength. As I try to shift, my head spinning, Smoke and Ember morph. They, being stronger, do it in one fluid motion, while it takes me a few tries in my weakened state. Markus’s eyes grow large as he sees me, a line of cuts that ooze blood down my thigh.
“What the hell! I didn’t know you were a werewolf! Who are you?” he snaps, the rush of hunger clearly outlined in his face.I want to growl back, but that won’t make anything better.
“You shouldn’t be out here.” Ace, who just arrived says, in his usual blunt fashion. Markus looks away.
“I’m sorry, sir-”
“Not just you, Night Child. All of you. We got wind of a human front coming at us. I thought we told you.” Ace said. I shook my head slowly, looking at Smoke and Ember. They looked confused too.
“We always scent a human or two out here, Dad.” Ember said, confused. Ace shook his head.
“This is a war front. We could smell the gunpowder and wolfsbane from a mile away. I’m sorry, but you can’t come here anymore.” We must have looked terrified, because Sabine said,
“Ace, now you’ve scared them.” She gave my wounds the once over. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“I’m fine, reall-“ I start, before she cuts me off.
“Your mother would kill me if I didn’t take care of you.” She said, a note of humor in her voice.
“Sabine, really. I’m okay.”
“Hospital.”
----
Twenty minutes later, I’m in a hospital bed, being treated for blood loss and a severed vein.
“How are you?” a small voice said, timid and afraid.
“Ten stitches, on an IV. I’ll be fine.” I say, turning my head to see Markus in the doorway. He scuffed his shoe on the dingy tile floor, looking embarrassed. “Um, this is a saline IV, not a blood one.”
“No, no, I’m fine. It’s just… Do I know you? I’m sorry, but have we met before?” Markus said, his voice submissive and placid. I snicker. If he’s trying to trick me with this docile facade, it’s not going to work.
“We went to school together. You know, before it got shut down, because humanity hates us?” I say, my tone more bitter than it needs to be on the last words.
“No all of humanity hates us.” Markus whispered.
“What was that?” I asked, though I hear what he said clearly.
“Nothing, it’s nothing. Just I’m sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t mean it, and,” He holds up a bag full of bottles.
“Oh, you certainly know the way to a wolf’s heart. Root beer is the best way.” I praised, reading the labels. “Get over here and give me one.”
He walks over to my bed, flips of the top of a bottle, and hands it to me.
“I know I just attacked you and I was a jackass, but I really think we should be friends. Or at least allies.” He hands me a root beer and grabs one for himself.
“We have to work together, werewolves and vampires, in this time. We can’t be bickering within each other, while the humans are an organized force. You’re a powerful wolf. I’m a powerful vampire. If we can work together, we can help others see that we need each other.” He continues, his voice getting stronger.
“Who are you and what have you done with the real Markus?” I ask him. “You never even talked to me, much less asked to play nice. Now, you’re all, ‘I want to make friends!’ You’ve changed.” I said. He turned his head out of my view, the closest he could get to blushing. “Okay, now I know that you’re a doppelganger.” I tease gently.
He makes a sound in his throat, like a mutter or a whimper. I’m embarrassing him, I realize. I didn’t even know he could be embarrassed.
“To friendship?” I ask him, and we look each other in the eye.
“To friendship.” He flicks the top of his bottle and we clink the necks together.
“For us, the wolves, witches, warlocks and everything else that lives in the shadow of human threat. May this war end soon.”
I look up at his olive face, my gaze burning into his. “There’s war?”
Hi, I’m Beryl, and I’m kinda new to this writing thing. I would really appreciate any feedback as to how I could improve! Thank you in advance!
