The fear in the forest was palpable. Birds trilled a warning and soon, hundreds of wide-eyed animals pounded their hooves through the trees, desperate to gain distance from danger.
An odd magic, never felt before by these poor creatures, drifted in the air. It radiated off a being they sensed would be very powerful, indeed. The bushes quaked and branches snapped as a boy, gushing blood from one side, fell into a small clearing. The more curious of the woodland creatures watched in gross fasination as his muscles stretched. He arched his back and howled in pain as his bones shifted inside his body. Hazel eyes rolled back into his head, and came back a deep emerald. A loud pop, and the boy's veins bulged. Fur and ears and a tail pushed through his skin. The flimsy garments he had wrapped around his body fell to the ground in shredds. A muzzle full of razor sharp canines pointed to the sky as a mournful howl filled the air.
Knowing he was being watched, the wolf, dark as night, limped farther into the woods. It was his sixteenth birthday, and he was sad and alone.
Chapter 1
Consciousness faded in and out. Slowly, as the boy turned wolf opened his eyes, a blurry picture was visible. He couldn't for the life of him remember how he had ended up on the ground. The shock of having paws didn't register. The pain still ebbed throughout his being. Breaths were slow and shallow. The emerald eyes closed in exhaustion. He was going to die. He wanted to die. But the ancestors showed pity towards the outcast. The new creature who they knew would do great things. They placed a paw onto another wolf, a sense of knowing, and she ran to him. She, a loner herself, with great size and one un-seeing eye. Her brilliant white coat became tarnished with the stain of the younger's blood as she lifted him upon her neck.
"Don't be afraid, young one. Fear is for the weak." She hummed. "Don't be frightened, young wolf. Listen to what I speak. Your power is immense, yet you are kind. Brave, you are, and strong. With knowledge and love, you will rule this land. With us, you belong." As she sang, the pain faded. His wounds closed into mere scars. The oozing blood dried, and a peaceful look settled on his face. Deep in slumber, the boy was happy. For the first time in his life, he belonged.
Before, before all of the tragedy that befell him, he still had a troubling life. He was always alone, branded as a freak even when he was little. It seemed he gave off a vibe that people couldn't explain, something unsettling that made children scream and adults shift away from him in elevators. Even his parents had seen this and abandoned him before he was aware of the world.
It physically hurt everytime he was avoided. In eighth grade, he was forced to partner up with a religious nut. When their names were called, she had screamed. "I can't work with him! He's the devil! Can't you feel his power?" She clutched the cross at the nape of her neck, then fainted.
Like a fool, he joked, "Score one for Satan." He worked alone for the rest of the year. It seemed that the abuse got worse and worse. In highschool, it wasn't just abandonment and name-calling anymore. In highschool, they became brave enough to touch him. Bruises blossomed on his pale skin like ink on damp paper. Cuts dashed angrily across his arms, and he got nosebleeds daily. Soon, Garret was an expert at tending wounds. But he never figured out how to heal the scars on his heart.
