Foreword

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I was a child when I did it. Barely two years old, but I still managed the feat of a lifetime. I don't remember how it happened, but I know I went wild, running from those who held me captive. Maybe it was the animal instincts that came over me, maybe it was just a deep thirst for freedom, but I escaped.

I've never known a life other than scavenging for food in the streets, making sure that no human sees me. As far as I know, I was born looking like everyone else; a human.

I'm not human anymore. I haven't been like that for a long time.

I'm a freak, a child who was forced to grow up too fast.

Sometimes I'll catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or reflective surface. I always see pointy black ears sticking out through brown hair with loose curls, one black streak hidden among the strands. I see a long, fluffy, black tail wagging slowly behind me. My eyes are emerald green in colour, piercing through the darkness of the New York streets on which I live. They're wild and fierce, the simple iris of mankind replaced with the slitted look of a cat or other wild animal. I see something strong, something unique.

I see a monster.

I guess I'm not completely horrifying right now, but I am when I transform completely. I don't know how I can do it, I just can. It comes naturally, like walking or breathing. One second I'm almost human, the next I'm a hulking black wolf standing solidly at over six feet tall.

When I'm not fighting for my life, I'll stand near the edge of an alleyway and howl a haunting tune into the night sky. I read a book once where a mutilated boy sang to strangers from the darkness, but never let them see him since he was so ugly. Sure, the people called out and begged him to come and join in on their feasts, but he refused. He understood how shallow humans can be.

I can understand that boy. That's why I like doing it. I've heard a few of the people murmuring to themselves, wondering where the music is coming from, but I never reveal myself.

A wolf in New York? Don't be absurd, they tell each other.

Other nights, I'll sit on a rooftop with nothing but the stars and the moon above me, and I imagine what it would be like to fly away to the moon. I'd live in my own glowing haven, and no one would be there to remind me of what I am.

If only I could learn to fly.

People are scared of me, but I can see why. I'm a freak, a mutant, and I'm all alone.

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