Appetite for Destruction

The Hale family weren't that well known.

Mr. And Mrs. Hale never joined the PTSA at their children's schools. As far as the community knew, Mr. Hale worked long hours and earned a lot of money at whatever he did and Mrs. Hale kept herself to herself, the dedicated mother who stayed at home with the children and was hardly ever seen around town. Their home was located deep in the woods that made up most of the small town, a stately wooden mansion capable of comfortably housing all fourteen Hales during family gatherings.

In the supernatural world, the Hale family were a well known, well respected, centuries old family. One of the oldest werewolf packs, lycanthropy passed down through blood rather than fangs or claws, and Alpha Talia Hale was a respected advisor, admired by some and feared by others.

The Hales used their considerable wealth to rebuild the community around them while remaining isolated from it. It was more necessity than a choice; they knew not all of their children would become werewolves, but the ones that did needed to be trained, needed to learn control. There was a tried and true tradition for training Betas, one that was passed down through generations.

For years the Hale family lived peacefully in their large house in the middle of the woods. 

Until they didn't.

"If you don't move your ass we're leaving you behind!"

I rolled my eyes at the threat, struggling with the laces of my shoes as I tried to both hurry and remember the method Dad taught me. Over, around... through? No, that wasn't right. "Ginger!" was shouted up the stairs, and I tucked my laces inside my shoes and jumped up from the bed. 

I spared a glance in the mirror on my way out to the door and frowned at the state of my hair, plucking a stray leaf from the red strands. Aunt Jane would always tell Mom that I should spend less time running amok in the woods and more time giving my hair a good brush and why couldn't I be more like Laura who was a charming young woman who took pride in her appearance.

Aunt Jane, Laura told me behind the woman's back, was a stuck up bitch with a stick up her ass, so I wasn't about to take advice from her. Still, I scanned my face and hair for more signs of my trip into the forest.

I was bird-boned and small, all baby face and big eyes like a porcelain doll. Delicate, my mother had unthinkingly called me once, which was ridiculous because I had claws and fangs and bright gold eyes. There was nothing delicate about me.

When I raced down the stairs I found Mom berating Laura for her language, Derek in the background smirking at her misfortune. Supernatural hearing was a gift in theory only, especially when your Mom can hear anything you say or do from the opposite end of the house.

"How many times have we talked about tying your shoes?" Mom asked, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she shook her head and kneeled to tie my traitorous laces for me. Though she was shorter than Dad, Mom managed to tower over most people, beautiful and powerful with hair a shade darker than fresh blood and eyes like steel.

I was the only child the inherit Mom's hair, long and bright and my namesake though I, like my siblings, had inherited her eyes. The 'Hale Eyes' they were often called, a shade darker than pure silver and more often than not lined with dark shadows, deceptively ordinary where their owners were anything but.

Laura took advantage of the distraction provided by my inability to tie laces and was out the door before anyone could stop her. Derek rolled his eyes before following.

"Have a good time." Mom said, brushing a gentle hand over my cheek and stepping aside so I could race after the teenagers. "Look after your sister!" She called at Derek and Laura's retreating backs, and Derek slowed down to allow me to catch up.