Annoyingly Cliche Werewolf Story.

LET THIS BE A MORAL: Don't read vampire/ werewolf stories. Or, like, any clichés whatsoever. They seep into your brain, and put pours THIS.

Pacing about the room tirelessly, Seth Winter spat at the floor while crumpling up the single sheet of paper he was holding in his hand.

Leaning casually against the wall, Thomas Devitt, his best friend, rolled his eyes. "Seth? Better not. Don't you need that?"

With only a glare in his direction, Seth collapsed next to him and tried to smooth out the creamy paper against the floor.

"Won't work. Better copy it all somewhere else before you forget."

"Will you speak in a full goddamn sentence for once!" Seth exploded, before standing to pace once again and staring hard at the list he held in his hands.

"No." Tom rolled his eyes yet again; a habit of his. "Let me see it." He held out his hand.

"What? You think you can look better than me?" Seth's voice was harsh, accusing.

Tom glared, letting his arm fall back. "I think I can do more than stare at a piece of fucking paper and hope she spontaneously appears." He smiled easily while Seth sputtered. "Full sentence,"

Seth, wordlessly, sat down yet again and chucked the sheet at Tom's head.

"Bastard," Tom tried to smooth the paper out as well, then squinted at it and began to read aloud.

"Seth's Mate:

1.       Virgin

2.       Minor

3.       Long hair

4.       Soft-spoken

5.       Not many friends/ family members

6.       Wide eyes

7.       Clever and witty

8.       Beautiful, and

9.       Seemingly delicate.

"Seemingly? What does that mean?"

"You think I know?" Seth, now, had fallen into a pit of virtual despair. Tom rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Well, come on. Let's go look for her."

"You think she's really here?" Seth sounded skeptic, yet stood as well.

Thomas nodded. "It's what the Prophet said, isn't it?"

Walking out of their small, shared room, Thomas silently passed the list back to Seth, who folded it up carefully and set it neatly in his pocket.

~*~

Meanwhile, in the room over, a woman dressed all in dark purple robes spoke, eyes glazed over, while a sat across from her, clearly confused.

"I cannot find out any more. Seth will find his mate here, in this very town, but not before he can become fully wolf." The women's voice was broken, brittle, and shrill, yet the words she spoke held such certainty that they could not be doubted.

The man, their werewolf pack leader, widened his eyes. "Change before he's found a mate? How rare! What does it mean?" The man, though brisk, was a good leader; one who clearly cared for his pack, and hated to see one suffer.

And not finding a mate once a young wolf comes of age is the greatest suffering one can know.