Submit, Alpha

        Waking up slowly to the sound of insistent ringing is my everyday routine. Swinging my arm over to turn off the old and dented alarm clock that I've had since I was little, its fairy themed. As I turn over my eyes land on the small clock seeing the time is 4:30am, an ache settling in my chest at the thought of my parents, it was the last thing they'd gotten me.
        Sighing as I sit up on the small cot, each movement causing it to creak under my weight. Flipping on the lamp on the table next to my cot and illuminating the small room. The pale green walls looking almost sickly with chipped paint and cracks, the ceiling having water spots from leaks, casting my eyes down to the wooden floor that's run down some pieces having bits broken off. In one corner of the room was a small school desk in which I used to do my homework and when I'm lucky, I get to draw. Across the room being my cot and small uneven bedside table that I keep a lamp, my clock, and a picture of my parents. By the foot of my bed were 3 shelves, one for my few books, the others for clothes. Granted I didn't have many things; I have 4 sets of clothes, Pj's, my work uniform, and 2 school uniforms.     
          Taking one more look around the room before getting up to get dressed. Today is Saturday so I must work, grabbing my uniform that consisted of a black collared shirt, black pants, and simple black shoes. Heading out the door quietly as possible to not wake anyone and making my way down to the kitchen to start my morning routine.
          Oh! How rude of me not to introduce myself properly. My name is Leela Stone, I'm eight years old and I'm a werewolf. You might be wondering why I am up so early and why I must work right? Well, it's a bit of a long story, but I can sum it up to the story most people go with.
          Three years ago, there was an attack on my pack, many pack members were killed on this day and some even taken. My parents were some of those taken. Mom and dad were loved by the pack; Mom was an amazing baker and dad was a doctor in the pack hospital. So naturally, me being the only orphan, I was blamed. I was five at the time and I didn't know what was happening. It was like any other day; I was out in the field behind our house picking flowers for mom when it happened. They believed that I let them through and into the pack. I don't know how that makes any sense but, who was going to believe at five-year-old anyway? I think its because I'm different than them, although they don't know how. Only my mom dad and uncle know.
          My mom always told me it was dangerous for me, I remember her words like it was yesterday,
"You must hide from others until the time comes, it is dangerous for you little wolf, but you are not weak. One day they will all see you for who you really are."
          I still don't quite understand what she meant by that, but I will forever trust her words.
         I always knew that I was not ordinary, and everyone else around must point it out as well. I have dark brown hair that falls down my back in waves and reaches right at my hips, my skin is pale with a few freckles splashed across my cheeks and small nose, but what makes me stand out are my eyes. One blue like the clear ocean and the other green like a mossy forest. My mother use to love them, always saying how special they were. Others didn't agree and they would pick on me because of it. To them it was a deformity as werewolves are supposed to be genetically better than humans, better sight, smell, reflex, strength, and speed. To them I was a mutant, but I didn't care as I liked being different.
          Now enough about me for now, it's time to start my normal work day which is taking care of the pack house. First thing up, cooking breakfast for about 100 wolves because that's right punishment for an eight year old? Que the eye roll.