The Wolf of The Woods

Chapter One: The Werewolf

A/N: Hi, so my name is [Anna]
Nice to meet you. And this is my first 'proper' fic I guess. Woo! *pops party-popper, it fails* I mean, I've kind of always wanted to be someone who posts chartered fics, but I guess I've never really had the confidence or the motivation...
^^^
I am sorry for any deaths caused by the level of trash I just showed with that reference. But anyway, here we are! I really hope you all like this fic, I'm not gonna give much of the storyline away here cause y'all gotta read it! Enjoy, my friends :)

Ps: The art for this first chapter was done by me! Shh, I know it's kinda crappy but throughout this fic I'm gonna be featuring various fanarts for it done by other people so make sure to give them some love!
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Pad, pad, pad.

Rapid footsteps could be heard sprinting through the trees.

Pad, pad, pad.

A frustrated sounding growl could be heard coming from the owner of the feet.

Pad, pad. pad.

However, they weren't feet. They were paws.

Not only did this mysterious creature have paws but he also had ears, great huge protruding ones that could be seen darting through the forest.

His name was Dan, although at the moment he didn't exactly feel like Dan. His body was full adrenaline and covered with fur, lots of fur.

You see, Dan was a werewolf. He had been for most of his life.

It was horrible changing into such a monster, it removed all logical thought and replaced it with desire, desire to kill, desire to eat. But currently Dan's deepest desire was to get back home. To get back home before... Before...

He wasn't going to make it.

He felt a tingling sensation in his already aching feet that quickly turned into pain and shot up, infecting the rest of his body. He was panting even more now.

The pain was throbbing, stabbing into him like a thousand knives. Panting faster still he took a few further steps before stopping dead still.

His thoughts were coming back to him now, and the adrenaline was leaving him. He dropped to his knees breathing rapidly before one final excruciating jolt of pain struck him and knocked him out of consciousness.

When Dan awoke, it was long past dawn. He was cold and confused. His clothes were torn to pieces and his eyes were still slightly bloodshot as he opened them.

Gazing down at his hands, he saw that they were no longer large and furry. He looked around at his surrounding area, which rather unhelpfully was mainly trees.

He had to get back home.

Rising to his feet, he groaned at the aching, a painful reminder of the previous night. Thank god he didn't have school today.

Dan began to clamber through the trees in some hope of finding a path, or better still his home (If you could really call it that). He hadn't had a proper home since he was a child, before his parents had abandoned him.

He remembered very little about them, only that one night on the full moon they had burst into his room just as he'd had begun transforming. He hadn't wanted to hurt them so with the last fraction of his brain that was still his, he'd told himself to jump out the window and run. He'd had ran and ran and ran as far as he could, and spent the night in the forest, afraid and hungry.

When he'd awoke the next day he had traipsed back home, still terrified (Mainly of himself) to find his parents. Only for them to say he was a disgrace and a monster. They had disowned him, kicked him out. And he'd never seen them again.

So now Dan lived this lonely life of solitude in his treehouse, which thankfully he could now see in the distance.

He bolted toward it with what little stamina he had left, not even bothering to look around for nearby intruders, or passers by. Though luckily there was no one.

As he began to climb up the rickety old ladder into his home his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten a thing, in his own form or his werewolf form, for 24 hours and now his stomach was finally catching on.

He got to the top of his treehouse and started searching for any spare scraps of food.

There was nothing.

Nothing except an abundance of coffee cups, and that plate he'd smashed yesterday (he should really clean that up).

He sighed as he dumped himself onto his rickety old bed and thought about what he was going to do next.

As uncomfortable as it was, he was quite grateful he had a bed. He had found it in a scrapyard a while back and it had been quite a feat getting it back into the forest and up a tree.

He looked around the room. His walls were covered in moon charts and crossed out calendars, each having a big red circle around the date of the full moon. There were a few claw marks in the walls from were he hadn't been able to leave his house soon enough. Dan didn't care though, they added 'character' he had told himself.

'Well I better go back out then' Dan sighed to himself. Frankly, he had no problem with taking to himself since he had no one else to talk to.

Dan got up and slung a backpack on his back, it contained a few bottles of water, a particularly sharp rock tied to a twig (a knife supposedly) and a few other supplies.

He had no money. If he was going out to get food he would have to steal, and he'd much rather do that with some sort of weapon rather than armless.

He began to clamber back down the ladder and go in search of food. Despite how much he hated stealing, right now it was the best he could do.