Yearning Dawn

Happy Birthday!

Before we get to the actual story, you should learn a thing or two about werewolves:
Supernatural phenomenons happened way before humans knew about them. To nature, it wasn't bizarre or creepy or new. To humans, it was evil and ill-intended against humanity. So what they did was try to erase it. Erase the supernatural. They slew vampires, enslaved demons, killed unicorns, and skinned werewolves. All the things that scared humans were cooked and devoured, scared away and hidden or murdered on the spot. No exceptions. Humans made a rule in a world they didn't own: They were the apex predators.

This, however, was not the case.

Your name was Genevieve Clarkston, daughter of William Clarkston and Elizabeth Clarkston. You were raised in a fairly poor environment in North American Alaska, where snow was built around your home 24/7. Not that you ever complained; you liked the snow ever since you were a baby. The summer was cold and the winters were colder, further making your life harder to survive in. For years, you couldn't fathom how easier it could be to live somewhere warmer with more sun, more dirt, and more flatlands.
You lived on Tower Street in
Campbell. A small town, most everyone knew everyone's names. Especially yours all thanks to your father. His job was to haul lumber from the forest and to the mill house for the lumberjacks that lived around it. Your mother was in the same profession, along with a few smaller other things. You were the one that hauled the wood into his rusty red pickup truck.
Today was a special day for you; it was your birthday! Finally, you were 18, just getting out of school and ready to spend a short summer with your family. Of course, you had your driver's license and permission to drive Betty-Lou (the red pickup mentioned). You were excited for more than that, though.
In your room were piles of books. On your laptop were stocks of pictures, internet fanfictions, and movies. Under your bed in a box were erotic drawings and homemade pottery sculptures.
Of what?

Werewolves.

Thousands and thousands of sources of werewolves and their packs and fictional readings of how they worked; especially towards romancing and mating. Each of these stories went one of two directions:
Murderous hunters looking for the main character because her family betrayed them or a romance between a dominant alpha and a submissive or stubborn young woman.
You were excited for your 18th birthday for the latter reason.

In your town, it was so small that a single secret was shared amongst them all: They were werewolves. The entire town was able to transform from the kind and cheerful neighbors to the scary creatures of the mountains. At any time of day or night. You never saw these transformations yourself, you were always stuck to stay with the children who were much younger than you and couldn't turn yet.
But today was different. Today was the first day you could leave the nursing home and see the change for yourself. Your father wasn't abusive to anyone in town and you've never met the rumored alpha. As if there could be someone stronger and much bigger than your father.

6:10 a.m.
Waking up, you pushed the button on the blasting alarm next to your bed. You sat up and rubbed your eyes tiredly. The sunlight blinded you, reflecting off the snow outside. You slid out of your bed and undressed. You grabbed a somewhat baggy and warm outfit and pulled a big hat and scarf over your head and neck. You looked in the mirror to see yourself. You felt confident in yourself, which was rare. You looked grownup and mature in your outfit. You heard the door open to show your father, a bright man with graying hair.
"Hey there, sugarplum. Are you ready to get going? I got breakfast ready for you."
"Thanks, Dad. I'll be out in a minute." The door shut softly as you worked your way around your square room, gathering beauty products to clean your face with. Finally, pushing the best color of lipstick onto your lips, you glanced at the mirror again. More pride overtook you. Maybe it was that birthday feeling or the excitement of finally meeting the actual pack you learned about, but your heart soared with unexplainable emotions and joy. You opened your door and walked down the short hallway, past your little sister's room. A giggle interrupted your strut and you walked back to the doorway.
A small girl with albino white hair and baby grey eyes looked up at you. She was sitting on a dark purple rug with a toy truck and a Barbie doll, making the truck hit the Barbie in the head as it "drove" over her.