The Wolf On The Other Side

Prologue

"Hey, give that back." I yell.

He glares at me, and I try to widen my arms to his height. His midnight eyes taunts me, and my soft hazels don't meet his as I attempt to grab my book from his greasy hold.

"Try harder." he smirks tauntingly, the gleams in his eyes challenges me and I put a hold on my tears as I stand on my tiptoes.

The streams unleashes from my eyes when his group of friends huddle around our fight, I flail my arm to reach for my special book, The Art of Lycanthropy, as they make fun of me.

They snort, laugh, then help Daniel out with me as they kick my legs from the back.

In the deserted school grounds, outside of the gigantic Victorian building that belongs to Cardon High, I always read during our breaks, now, Daniel chooses to bully me for that.

"You don't – understand – I need it." I sob out with faint breaths, Daniel, as any other popular guy, snortles at my quivers. My 5'5 frame doesn't help me one bit as he juggles the book from his left hand to his right.

The wind picks up its pace as my chestnut hair goes in my face and I have to stand properly to get it out, before I fight back again. I ignore the wince that forms on my face at the rough kicks of my shoes that stings my legs even more.

I give in all hopes as his friends keep pulling me away from arrogant Daniel, until a miracle happens, the howl is enough for them to stop the commotion and take in the big wolf that emerges from the woods.

It's him again. The wolf bares his teeth out, mainly at Daniel, as the popular guy backs away fearfully.

His comrades that consists of four goes in front of Daniel as they stand as still as a barrier, as if they know how to protect themselves. Each under a stoic face to the hungry wolf.

The Arctic wolf shines under the sunlight as the rousing gray patches comes to play. He growls, his hinder leg goes up and down, ready to take on the prey.

I make eye contact, my tears dry under the sun as the breeze joins, I kneel on the grass and my hands place warmly on my upper thighs.

His beautiful celeste eyes stares back at me in mild affection, as it darkens on Daniel and his squad of assholes. Their attention turns to my actions, momentarily forgetting about the wolf in front of us, who gets nearer.

The Art of Lycanthropy is all about how to tame a wolf; how to raise a conflict by acting tall and mightly, but at the same time, back off while maintaining an eye contact. That's enough to make wolves know that you're not a threat.

Deep inside of me, I feel safe around him whenever I see him each break. It's as if he acknowledges my schedule. But the guys don't have to know as their eyes widen and they make a run for it when the wolf finally attacks with his canines out in full speed, luckily, the book falls from Daniel's grasp and onto my hands.

Many of the students prefer to sit in the cafeteria, whereas I like to sit down on the hills full of grass to take in my Lycanthropy addiction peacefully.

I stare at the wolf who seem to have lonely, distant misty eyes when he stalls. I pull my teeth between my lips when I stand up, he stares back for a moment before he dashes through the woods again.

In Baker City, Oregon, it's normal to have wolves around, but I have never seen a bigger, powerful wolf like him. I just don't know why he scurries off like that. My curiousity perks up at the last encounter when I roam through the pages of my newly bought book. That's where all my savings go: to wolf books.

It's a fresh way for the start of the weekend. I am an unsocial introvert, anyway, reading is my escape from reality.

My eyes feast on the types of wolves and I try to connect the dots to his history. My focus span broadens over the small Roman font letters, trying to decipher his originality.

Arctic wolves usually have strong jaws full with forty-two sharp teeth to tear flesh and crush bones.

I already know that. My frustration picks up when I flip over, I am also aware that he doesn't eat humans, but it's just to scare them off of me. He looks out for me often, I have days where he makes sure to glance at me to see if I eat my lunch, then goes back to his shelter.

My clueless state brings me over the edge, desperate to pull out anything from the book. I have known the facts already, but I want to know about his history.

The bell rings for my next class, much to my dismay, I stroll up the hill to the entrance of the school as the fancy golden double doors open to reveal the rush hour, where students pile up to get to their classes, each receiving either a jab on the side or a blown-out-of-propotion shoulder hits.

I smile at Miss Greene, my literature teacher, she's my only friend in this school. Her eyes smile back behind her circular glasses, her lipstick smudge casually appears on the side of her lips, so I point to her upper lip, and she parts her lips when she notices in her compact mirror.

"Oh, thank you, I didn't see that." She embarrassingly erases the excess, and I give her a comforting smile.

"It's alright, Miss Greene." I say timidly, she gives me a pat on the shoulder when I enter her class, fidgeting with the hem of my red hoodie, I avoid Daniel's gaze at the back row when I take a seat on the front row as the tanned beauty, Miss Greene, closes the door to start the class.

I know what's coming, the familiar raspy voice calls out. "Wolf's bitch is here."

My heart sinks in disappointment as my eyes averts out the window towards the wolf that lowers his head amongst the middle of their laughter.