A/N: Warning: HUUUGE infodump incoming! Donald Trump memes aside, this chapter is the longest I have ever done with 3,795 words sans Author's Notes! I hope this was worth the wait; enjoy!
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"Fear of the other leads to hatred, and
hate from within will eventually destroy the hater."
- George Washington Carver
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September 3rd, 1773
To say Petraeus had made Hooklaw upset with the outcome of the mission would be an understatement: He was peeved yet still proud. "The iron and silver were supposed to be brought back by you, Petraeus. Why did you bite two guards in order to help? Now they are lost in the woods, and it's only a matter of time before the Elvenkin or Lycancullers find them!"
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continued, "However, thank you for the information on what they are making in there, even if you did have to get yourself shot and somehow revived by one of the two you had bitten. This Damitché, however... A Loup-Garou that survived the genocide? It seems too incredible to believe... I pray, Petraeus, how do you plan on getting the iron and silver back to your people when the two who are carrying it are lost?"
"Perhaps if you called Damitché and her family with a howl, they would be able to find their way here."
"Alright," he sighed, then, tilting his head back, he called out, "Damitché! Where are you? Home is this way!"
"We are over here!" came the reply from two miles to the northwest. "We're coming!"
Half an hour later, the forms of three Loup-Garous in halfway form appeared out of the brush surrounding the rudimentary camp. Upon seeing one of the pack members, the female gasped, saying, "Fangones? Is it really you?"
"Damitché!" Fangones affirmed, "It's been a long time since we last saw each other, 'asn't it? 10 years?"
"Wait, how do you know each other?" Hooklaw asked, intrigued by the turn of events.
"I 'aven't told ye everythin' about myself, Hooklaw," admitted Fangones. "Damitché an' I are both survivors of th' genocide, an' what's more, she be me sister, an' I thought I'd ne'er see 'er again after Thranthrope trapped me in this form."
Upon hearing this, Hooklaw and, for some reason, Damitché blinked in surprise.
Damitché overcame her shock first. "You're trapped in that form? So that means -"
"Aye, me dear twin. Ye may still be o' childbearin' age, but I... I be an old man approachin' his hour. 40 we may be in human years, but in wolf years I be close t' one hundred an' fifteen, an age at which a shot from a silver bullet woul' kill me regar'less o' how much th' curse be affectin' me. Fur'ermore, I be a liability come th' New Moon..."
A somber mood pervaded the air as Fangones paused then concluded, "Perhaps...perhaps it woul' be better fer ye and me if I were t' leave now." With that, Fangones padded off in the direction of the rising moon and the glue holding their pack together started to dissolve.
Pete spoke up, his body now back in its halfway form and his armor back on. "Perhaps it would also be best for him and the rest of us if I were to watch him for you, to make sure no ill falls upon him." He gave a salute and hoisted the sacks of iron and silver over his shoulders; his time with them had come to a close. His already compact dwarven muscles bore the weight easily with the added strength from the curse as he set off after Fangones.
As he left the perimeter of the shelters, he called out, "It would be a good idea to hear the history of the genocide, Hooklaw, so that you do not make the mistakes of the past. I have heard it myself from my elders who sat by and watched from their lonely mountains, but I am not an eyewitness to it..."
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The Otherkin Chronicles ¦ Book 1: Lycan
Historical Fiction"When he got bitten on the full moon, at first he felt nothing, then pain - only pain." Sean Hooke was the best Werewolf Hunter in colonial America. A fervent believer in their need to be eradicated after the death of his wife five years earlier at...
