We all have different stories. Stories that somehow all end up in the same way: packless and alone. Some of us made the choice, tired of the treatment we received under those who were supposed to be a support system- our own pack. Others had no choice but to leave under the tongue of their alpha. No matter the situation, we ended up on our own.
We were rogues- somehow seen as the villain of every story. Another miss-justification. The majority of us are not out to destroy others. We do not seek the blood of the innocent. We simply want to survive. We want to live normal lives as we weren't able to do so before.
It's not easy. We have to travel miles until we find a neutral territory where we can live in peace. Some of us have it easy and make it through the journey in good shape. We are able to find a home while others live in the dingy, dangerous streets for quite some time, living like literal dogs eating trash dumped out.
As for our wolves, they must be kept restrained most of the time. The neutral territories tend to be nowhere near forests. We cannot turn without exposing our existence to humans. Who knows how they would react?
Various factors weigh in. The most important one: our age.
I was 13 years old when I became rogue. We were traveling on the road on the way to visit Florida. It was going well until a drunk driver hit us head on, knocking me out unconscious immediately. The next time I woke up, I was an orphan.
There was absolutely no trace of my origin -no evidence of my identity. I knew who I was, but no one else did. I had absolutely no idea how to get back to my pack, so I was forced to live on my own as a rogue.
I refuse to tell you what I went through the first two years. No one- I mean no one- deserves to face what I did my first year. I wouldn't wish my past upon the most evil person. It's a chapter I wish to never re-read.
By the time I was fifteen bordering on sixteen, I found Edna. She was a kind elderly woman who had chosen to be rogue upon her abusive husband. She understood my situation and took me in, enrolling me in school and providing me with what I needed. We lived in an average cabin earned from her years working as a lone woman. As days passed, she was like a mother to me and I a daughter to her.
I was now eighteen. I could now call myself a normal teenager. My wolf, however, was weak. We managed to shift at times, but it was never enough.
There were six of us now. I guess you could call us a pack; however, I'm pretty sure the dogs were stronger than our other halves. Sad but true. Edna never complained; she welcomed each new girl with open arms. We seemed odd bunch of humans, but we were a family like any other.
"Girls," Edna called to us one morning.
"Yes, Nana," Emily replied, sitting herself beside me.
"I ask you not to leave home for the next few days," she instructed.
We never really usually left home. Many of us, if not all, were still scarred from our past experiences. Needless to say, we refused to attend the local high school. We earned our diploma online and we're still debating whether or not to head to college. Nana pushed us to do, stating she wanted to make something out of ourselves. Believe when I say we wanted to, but it wasn't simple.
"Why?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.
She shuffled around a bit. I could see in the way she moved, she wanted to be cautious of her words, knowing any little thing could trigger us. She sighed dejectedly before turning around to face us, looking each of us in the eyes.
"There is a group of werewolves in town," she whispers under her breath.
We had all heard her clearly, though. We all stood looking at each other, wondering what the heck was in store for us now.
YOU ARE READING
Denouement of the Moon
WerewolfCountless times, the story of a she wolf banished from her pack has been shared. A picture has been painted- where redemption is found within another pack that will transform her into a refined and skilled fighter. It has been engraved in your min...