Howl at the Moon

Chapter 1

          

Beware, this is no typical story. If you are hoping that it is about a weak girl falling for the strong handsome stranger, you will be sourly disappointed.

I always had to be the best, since I was a child I was a sore loser. I was a goody-two-shoes, a tattle tale and never did anything wrong; that was until High School. We were always separated, parents feared for their children. Who you might ask, who are we meant to hide from? Who were we meant to hate with all our minds, bodies, and souls? Well, werewolves of course. As a child my mother would tell me gruesome stories, of how they ate children and felt no pain, love, or emotion. My father told me to stay away from them and so I did, not only that but I would rat out anyone who so much as looked their way.

It's my first day of High School, my first day with them. Most of my friends from elementary school are going to different schools or moved away so that they wouldn't have to have werewolves as peers. Although I do have one with me, my best friend.

"Dawn!" I scurried over to her. She was at her locker, which coincidentally happens to be beside mine.

"Luna! Have you spotted any lycanthropes (another word for werewolf) yet?!" Typical Dawn, always looking for trouble. I let out a sigh and shook my head. Then, I glanced at her before turning to my locker; she has light brown hair, with army green eyes, and tanned skin. Today she is sporting her slightly lose blue jeans and a shirt that says "Feed me," somehow she managed to look amazing.

"No, and we are not going to okay? Remember, they are bad news," I reminded her in a tough voice. The bell rang and we said our good byes, I have Werewolf-Human History and she has Geography.  As I entered the class I couldn't help but glance around, how many of them is people of the moon? There is a boy at the back of the class, he seemed tired. His hair is ruffled, and he is covered in hair; I thought he was one till I got a glance of his wrist. "No moon" I sighed under my breath.

I should probably explain. Humans, though we can be kind and pure, we can also be judgemental and full of hate. A long time ago, one of my ancestors I'm ashamed to say, made a new law. It was a way to identify the werewolves in our midst, but that was a long time ago. Before we could pretend that we get along, and yet the law still exists. As cubs (baby werewolves), they are marked; stamped with a crescent moon. Regular tattoo ink doesn't work on them. Werewolves heal abnormally quick, thus requiring a less "humane" method of marking them. The infant's flesh is burnt marking them for life; burn marks that deep don't heal. It would be a constant reminder that they will never be completely human; they would never be good enough. Just mistakes of life, worthless, monsters. Their mothers were forced to watch, restrained, helpless and unable to protect the ones that they love the most.  Now a days they are no longer forced to be there but most still do. They don't want their cubs to face the torture alone; no one should have to face that alone. No one should have to face it at all, but we have to protect ourselves. If you ask a werewolf if they remember being marked they will most likely say yes, the memory is engraved in their heads. You would feel bad for them, if they had emotions that is.

Now you may be thinking why didn't the mothers fight back, they're werewolves; they're stronger and faster than humans? Though that may be true they have a weakness: Aconitum lypcoctonum, or wolfsbane. They are sensitive to even the smallest amounts. If enough was present and injected into the animal in the right spot, it could even be fatal. How do I know all this? Well as I said before, my ancestors came up with the whole marking thing, but that is not all they were known for. They were the greatest hunters to ever live; in fact my family has been living on the same land for generations. We have been here even long before the wolves, and when they came my great, great, great, great, grandparents were not pleased. A war was fought and many from each side died, including my great, great, great, great, grandfather.