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I stepped away from the furniture and moved to the bedroom. There were three of them. The biggest one was for the parent, judging by the clothes in the closet. The other two were for the kids.
Were they on vacation, and what kind of vacation takes so long that they got this much dust on their furniture? Maybe they relocated and didn’t want to sell this house. To keep it as something to have should they ever come back to whenever they were back.
The house I broke into all those years ago wasn’t half as grand as this, but it was good enough to hide me for three days, after which I assumed the bullies had forgotten about me.
There was a hatch at the far end of the house leading to a basement. I opened it and popped down into the basement. It was even darker in there, and the smell of dead rats hung in the air. It was very putrid as it had dried over time, but it still wanted to make me keel over and puke. I looked around the basementand saw it served as a storage unit also. Shelves have been built into the walls and on one of these shelves were canned foods. I almost squealed in joy when I saw it. I started towards it, hoping to find something good in there, but it was just rows upon rows of canned beans. I got some out and headed back to the kitchen, where I warmed it up, removed the sheet from one of the sofas, and ate. After I was done with that, I went into the bigger bedroom, which thankfully didn’t have as much dust and the window opened into the backyard where no neighbor could see. I opened the blinds, dusted off the bed, and lay down, exhausted.
It felt wrong to be lying there and searching for sleep, but there was nothing else to be done, so I went to sleep. I would be out when it was dark, prowling like the creature of the night that I am.
Sleep came easy. I was tired, and it might be the last I got in a long time. When I get out of town, and I hope to do that soon, I will make for the woods immediately. I was better off out there with the trees, grasses, and other animals than here with the concrete and high-rises. I can get better camouflage there and even fight better because I would be surrounded by pieces of nature I could use to my benefit.
Fifteen years ago, when I slipped out of the building where I hid and went back to the street, they were still waiting for me. It was like nothing had changed since I left. They cornered me and asked for their share of the things I stole. I had spent it all, which was why I came back to the street. To get some. They attacked me. The three of them beat me so hard that I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. They left me bleeding and with broken bones on the floor—a child, a girl helpless on the street. I was a meal for the predators. I dragged myself out of the road, rested against a building, and remained there for a long time. A coupleof hours later, when I stood up, I felt something different in me. The broken bones were healed, the bleeding had stopped, and I didn’t even have a scar.
I knew what it was, but it came early. It wasn’t supposed to come until I was thirteen, and if my parents were alive, they would have made a big deal about it. My mum would have made her famous cake, my dad would have gotten me a present, and they would have sung for me like it was my birthday.
I was just eleven, and I had triggered my wolf gene. I felt different then, special. I tried to extend my claw, and it did. It was a springy little thing, but I knew how strong our claws could be. I knew the damage they could do.
I left the side of the building and searched for those boys. They never bullied a kid after that, and every one after that kept away from me. I had gained my power, but I was suddenly a pariah too. There are always sacrifices to pay; I learned this very early in life.
When I woke up later, it was already dark outside. Swinging the bag Kris prepared for me, I stepped out of the house, ready to face whatever may come my way. I had had enough rest, and my senses were even sharper now. I couldn’t keep my eyes glowing in the darkness of the night because it would draw attention to me, so I made do with human eyes and sniffed the air a couple of times to see if there was any change. I kept my ears peeled to the ground too. I walked down the street and started towards the woods. I would have to go past the street I walked with the others yesterday and past the reservation with the lone wolves on it. I wondered what he was up to. The man called Luke, and a stupid idea came to my mind to check him out and see if he could help me. I pushed it out immediately. It was best to keep tomyself, get to the woods and away from town, then find a way to help the kids that might be getting sold.
The walk was uneventful until I got close to the reservation. The streets were eerily quiet, there was no night party, which was common to the street, and the people used to stay out late, even until the wee hours of the morning. But it was all quiet now. I knew it was because of me.
The silence made my footstep echo so loud, so when I heard a foreign sound, I stopped. I was in the middle of the street, and a sniff in the air told me there were werewolves with me. I could get two distinct smells, but there could be more. I turned around, and I couldn’t see them. They remained in the dark, probably hiding behind the houses. They were tracking, and they wanted me to know they were following me.
They were cocky ones. They must be some of the hunters, and I was fairly certain they were thinking I was no match against them. All my life, people have always underestimated me, and they’ve always regretted it.
I continued towards the woods, picking up the feet thumping against the ground. Now, I knew they were just two. After walking a while, I stopped again and looked behind me. They were both standing there, shrouded by the darkness, with their eyes glowing, ready for attack. I could see their claws extended, and low growls were coming from them.
I let my backpack drop and prepared myself for them. They were bigger than me; I could tell that. They had the hardened look of people who had gotten so accustomed to killing it had become a chore for them. They started towards me, one step at a time, and their movement was lithe and graceful. They were used tofighting as a pair, and I could see it in their coordination. They would always attack and defend together. They were a pack—a pack of just two with no alpha.
They didn’t attack me immediately. They flanked me first, catching me between them with no place to go.
“Do you want to give up?” one of them asked. “You’re outnumbered.”
“So it seems,” I told them. “But if you want me, you’ll have to do the work.”
The other one smiled. “Then so be it.”
They dashed towards me together, their movements fluid and swift. They were fast too. But I was faster and I saw that immediately. The first swiped at me with his claws, and I moved back, missing by a couple of inches, but with no time to celebrate my narrow escape. The two of them were on me again almost immediately, and I spent the next couple of minutes just evading their attack and never getting one in.
They had a grin on their faces the whole time as I started to formulate a plan. They attacked together; they retreated together. They did everything together. That was their strength, and to beat them, I would have to find a way to unsynchronized them. I continued deflecting their attack as they tried to keep up with my speed, and I knew what to do. Unfortunately, neither one was as fast as me, which was why they had difficulty getting an attack home.
I positioned myself between them and let them both come at me. They took the bait, dashing at me together and with hope in their eyes that they would finally get me. I turned toward the oneto my left just in time, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him towards me. Before the next could react, I pulled the other closer to me again until he was looking me right in the face.
I was going to have to kill them.
I realized then that to survive this, I was going to kill a lot of people. I hadn’t really considered it, but these people wouldn’t lose breath agonizing over killing me. They were doing it for money, but I am not like them. I am not a killer.
I hesitated in attack, and the werewolf I was holding attacked me. He swung his claws at me, and I had to let go of him and shift backward to avoid getting slashed by him. His claws nipped at my face, tearing off a part of my skin. It burned.
They both faced me again, realizing that I was more skilled than they expected. They flanked me again and attacked together. They were used to fighting that way and didn’t know any other. It would be their downfall. I repeated the same thing, left myself open, and they swung in for the kill, but they couldn’t get to me. I swung towards the other and grabbed him by the neck, and this time, I didn’t hesitate. I extracted my claws, and dug into his neck. I could feel his carotid vein move against my claws, and I snapped it. He fell, bleeding to death.
The other howled. It was a cry laced with pain and anguish and anger. He looked at me with a vengeance clouding his face. He attacked me without form, swinging his claws, growling, and throwing his whole weight behind each attack. It was easy beating him. I kept moving out of the way for him, and we moved in a circle, round and round around the body comrade, and when I had enough of him, I stopped and let one of his swings get me. He hit me in the face but barely stung. I punchedhim in the chest, a hard and heavy punch that dropped him to the ground. He fell to his knees, coughing and grabbing at his chest. I walked to him, held him by the neck, closed my eyes, and turned his head around. A sharp snapping sound followed it, and he fell lying beside his comrade.
I stood there immobile and blank for a while, looking at the lifeless forms at my feet. In twenty-three years, I had only killed one man, and it was an accident. In the last two days, I had killed three already, and it was only the beginning.
I felt sick in my stomach. A distant howl pulled me out of my trance, and I ran away from the bodies, leaving them there in the street.
