Alone...

Chapter 1

The sun is sinking low in the sky and I know that I must find shelter before nightfall. I stop and scan the horizon, dropping the sack that I had carried for miles along the dusty track I now stand on. The only light I can see for miles around, aside from Edinburgh in the horizon, is a small shed that I suspect to be a peasant's home. I grab my sack containing my meager possessions and throw it back over my shoulder, groaning at the weight as I begin to trudge towards the lights in the distance.

It's a good 20 minutes walk but it's a relief when I finally reach it and am able to rest my weary legs, that are unaccustomed to walking such a distance in this form. After stopping to catch my breath my eyes search for a door on the side of the shack in front of me. The walls are a patchwork of different weathered pieces of wood, some in early stages of decay, others creak in the evening wind and a small lantern is swinging from a rusty hook above what appears to be a door. I drag my sack over to it and knock gently on what looks like a solid piece of wood, praying that someone will answer and that the people out here aren't too suspicious. After a minute of waiting, I begin to consider a night in the woods; in the next half hour, the moon will rise, triggering my change and I will be forced to flee from any human civilization, as talk of a wolf, even out here, will spread fast and soon there will be people hunting me down and from them I would never escape. Here in the city, every supernatural is hated as we rule the humans, we are the nobles and the royals. They hate us for what we are; and I think, so do I.

Eventually, the door creaks open and an old man's shriveled face peers out at me. "What do you want?" he asks suspiciously, eyeing my clothing up and down to see where I come from, whether I am supernatural or human, but I am one step ahead of him - I am dressed in a pair of scratchy wool leggings and dirty cloth shirt, on my feet I wear my brothers old worn riding shoes and my jet black hair hangs in knots around my shoulders. "I just want someplace to stay for the night," I say hoarsely, my throat still full of dust off the dirt track. "I assume you have money?" he says, still eyeing me suspiciously. "Yes," I reply, "but not much, will this do?" I hold out all the loose change in my pocket; I have more in my bag but he doesn't need to know that.

He grunts and nods, knowing that this money is too good a chance to miss out on. He holds out his hand and I tip it onto his palm. Then he opens the creaking door and beckons me inside. "No funny stuff, OK?" he warns me, "Or I'll have the city wardens after you within the hour. Now," he says, falling back into a rickety armchair and gesturing for me to do the same, "if you tell me how a young girl like you ended up all on her own in the middle of nowhere then there'll be a hot dinner in it for you." I know I can't tell him the truth but a hot dinner is too good an opportunity to miss, as my only other option is a stale loaf of bread from my sack.

"I come from the west," I begin, trying not to stray too far from the truth, "near Falkirk." I do really come from there but my family rule it, along with the rest of south east Scotland. "My family want me to marry this man, 'cause he is richer than us, his family work for the ruler, the men look after the horses and the women wait on the rulers - anyway, the man they want me to marry, he's real horrible, hits me if I get in his way then he acts like nothing ever happened. I told my parents but they don't care, so I ran away, left middle of last night in the back of a delivery cart that took me to Blackness and then I walked..."

Suddenly, I realize that the man is no longer listening to my story, instead; he stares hungrily at my exposed forearm. "Is something wrong?" I ask nervously. "Oooooohhh!" he exclaims, gleefully rubbing his hands, "You're one of them, aren't you, a supernatural. I'm going to be rich!" 'What! How did he know?' I think to myself while trying not to panic. Taking a deep breath, I put on a confused face and ask, "What? Mister, I think you're a bit confused, I...... "

"Give it up girl." he interrupts, "I see your tattoo, I know what you are, and you're not leaving until the Insurgents get here and pay me my fortune!" I look down at my left arm in horror to see that a good half of the tattoo that identifies me as a supernatural is exposed and just to add to my shock, the old wizened man is loading a rifle with bullets.

I know that I have two choices, get shot or go with these insurgents the man speaks of. I don't fancy either.