Born of Blood

Chapter 1

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Giant Sequoias were all the eye could see behind the overly large house built, seemingly, in the middle of nowhere.

A large circumference of space had been cleared for the large living structure, trees taken down in the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada mountains of California. The green trees towered miles from the ground, their points breaching the beautiful sky with the tips of their fingers. When the wind blew threw their branches the mountains sang. This home was no more than fifteen miles from the nearest town, far from the mundanes, where all the residents seemed to be oddly beautiful.

The people of Townsend, a small community built into the side of a mountain- far from any major California city- were all abnormally tall, with skin that glowed a deep tan even in the longest of winters. Their limbs were lined with muscle- even the women- and all of them had the most angular features. Jawlines that could cut glass, eyes that could pierce through your soul, noses narrow and pointed. Their body's held strong by an unidentifiable force, and each a glint in their eyes of knowledge mundanes would never hope to grasp. If you didn't know better you'd think they were all related, every single person, in that small town of six  hundred.

And though the humans of the world knew nothing of the truth of that house buried fifteen miles deep in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the people of Townsend did. And they would protect that home with their lives, that was their one true home. It was where their hearts lie, where their spirits yearned to be and protect, where their leader and young were housed. To the rest of the world, the people of Townsend were odd and seemed to never let anyone into their small community, though within the façade of a cliquey town, they understood the truth.

Townsend may have been the government given name for the land they lived on, but inside every one of their hearts and souls, they were the people of Malkún. The fourth largest Werewolf pack in the Northern United States. They wore their pack name with pride and were vicious in protecting their land against any who sought to take it as their own. That house was their pack house, where their leaders- the hierarchy- called home. The Alpha male and female headed the pack as mates, a face to the Malkún pack to any others (enemy and allied packs) looking in, and the ones who made any decisions regarding the safety of the people residing under their care. And though their loyalty was strong to their Alpha male and female, for so many within the pack, an even stronger reason prevailed as to protect that house with their life. Any and all unmated male and female wolves resides within those walls. Majority being the people of Malkún's teenage children. At the age of eighteen all teenagers are moved into the pack house to form bonds with the members of their generation, along with searching for their mate; though not every mate is found within their own pack. They are separated from their schooling and placed into their program to ensure the survival of their people. They train and forage, they are cared for while they learn the history of Malkún.

The young men and women stay there until they discover their mate, whom is given to them by the Moon Goddess, the ancient being who died for her creation: werewolves. Her spirit is who all werewolves in the world pray to, who they turn to for guidance, who they look to for their mates. Every soul of a werewolf is only half of who they truly are, or have the potential to be, until they cross paths with their mate, their other half. And until they cross that path, or have gained permission to venture from the pack in search for their soulmate, they remain at the pack house under the care and guidance of the Alpha and Luna (the Alpha Female).

All, except for one.

And standing in the backyard, behind the giant, navy grey painted, surprisingly large Pack House, Giant Sequoias were all her eyes could see.