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  • Wild Wolves Ch. 01

Wild Wolves Ch. 01

Many thanks to my Editor Jazcullen, who done a lovely job of my mess.

*

Pain slashed through my body as the wolves pulled us to the ground. I heard my friends as their screams met mine, sharp teeth biting down into soft skin of our limbs. But the worse sound, a horrid sound, was the wolves as they tore my friends apart.

All I could think after they had they had left was why did they leave me alive? I realized later they had left me to come back and eat me, one of the doctors said that I was lucky to be in that wolf pack's area, because normally they dragged food back to a place where it's safe until they're hungry again.

Forcing my swore and pain ridden body form of the ground and half staggered, half dragged my self to the roadside, I didn't have enough energy to flag down a car, so I simply collapsed at the roadside. I would have prayed for help, but I had passed out from loss of blood.

When they found me, it took two blood transfusions and four operations before I was considered stable, but to the surprise of everybody, I was well enough to go home only three weeks later, although I was forced into agreeing to the doctors terms of bed rest.

I think the thing that hurt the most was that for the next month, I was recognized everywhere we went. Living in a big city was like that; the rouge wolf attack in a park that was surrounded by a city was a big thing and led to weeks of terror, and hunting them.

After a time, when they couldn't find anything; they put it down to some nutter hacking at the bodies, me passing out from trauma and then wild dogs feeding but because of trauma my mind but the dogs and the nutter together. No one believed me, no one except my dad who knew how headstrong I was.

I noticed early on that I was starting to feel strange. I was getting angry really easily. I was eating steak rare when before the attack I was a vegetarian. My pain tolerance levels where higher and, I felt so much stronger.

The doctors put it down to stress, something about my mind finally coping with the attack. My dad was worried and took as long of work as he could, and when he went back to work they sent him to New York for a week. It was good timing really, other wise who would have know what could have happened to him.

It was a full moon and I'd gone down to the cellar for a bottle of red wine. Suddenly an excruciating pain rippled down my spine. I screamed as my body contorted, twisting and turning to change shape. There was...I guess it could have been classed as a kind of cytoplasm. It stuck to the wine bottles, the racks and walls, a sticky mess that covered everything but me, and yet it must have come from me. I lay curled in a ball whining. I was a wolf. Part of me, the wolf part I think, wanted to get outside and feel the night air.

I struggled in that form for days. When I woke in my once again human form; I was naked and covered in that horrid sticky cytoplasm stuff. After showering and checking the day/time, I quickly set to work cleaning the basement, and I had destroyed it; the vintage wines, the beams had scratches down them, and I didn't have any excuses, dad was going to be pissed.

He came back before I got home from High school. He was in his office when I first entered the house but shot out to greet me. "Hay dad, how was your business trip?" I asked in my most innocent voice, hoping to god he hadn't seen the cellar, which was in a much better state.

I had cleaned it threw the night. I couldn't disguise the scratch marks so I didn't even try, but with the spilled vintage wines cleaned up, the cytoplasm washed away, and any serving wine put in to its correct places, it was looking almost normal.

"Boring as usual. How are you sweetie, you look tired?" He wasn't really asking, it was in his you look o.k. but need to take better care of yourself so I'm telling you off, voice.

My dad was a fifty-three year old widower. He and my mother had waited well into their marriage till they tried for kids, my dad was thirty-six and my mother twenty-seven when they had me. My mother had died in childbirth to my baby brother, he had been premature didn't survive the week. I was three at the time. But I didn't feel as if I'd missed out on not having a mother. My dad had always loved me, had always been there for me, even in second grade when I fell off the swings and he'd run out of an important meeting.

Dad was tall and healthy although in the last two years he'd put on a little weight round the middle. But other then some light crows feet and a little grey in he's once jet-black hair, he didn't have any signs of aging.

"I didn't get much sleep last night, "I said laughing it off "Completely forgot I had a essay due in today."

"O.K. I've got work to do, so how about we order a pizza?" he suggested.

I frowned at him. Dad loved the pizza from Uncle Albert's which was just down the road, but I knew for a fact that he'd had nothing but take-always on his business trip.

"I was thinking I'd cook some steaks and baked potatoes with mushrooms on the side." I gave him my, agree with me or die look, which had served me well over the years.

"O.k. Gabby. You win, I'll give up my unhealthy ways, and will allow you to get me healthy." He laughed and walked back to his home office.

"I wish dad, I wish" I rolled my eyes knowing he wasn't going to give up the Monday night Chinese or the business trip curries. What I didn't get was how was it a business expense!?

Life went on like this for a few weeks. I cooked, I cleaned, I looked after the neighbours kids for extra cash. I went to college, went to work and did my homework. Everything went fairly normally with the exception of morning my friends.

But something was different, my temper. The psychiatrist, who I was being forced into seeing, put it all down to stress. After one of the cheerleaders at the High school I was attending, tried to spread a rumour that I'd made the whole camping deaths by wolves up, I went nuts. I may have kind of super glued her pompoms during half time, she though it was just sweat...

It had taken all of my control not to rip her into shreds. To watch as her body fell apart, as her blood and flesh slid down my throat. I shook as I cooked dinner, dad was out of town again so it was beans on toast for me.

As I was cleaning away my plates, I felt a pain slide down my back. I grabbed at the kitchen counter and forced myself towards the cellar door, which was to the right of the sink. I feel down the stairs, as my body convulsed and changed. Luckily we had a door that closed its self for the basement, locking whatever I was to become within it.

My body burned. It was like a fire spreading out through my soft tissues and flesh. My muscles became stronger but my bones reshaped and formed into that of a wolf.

Hair covered my normally smooth body leaving me a black-brown from head to toe. I wanted to believe it was a bad dream, making me self believe It would never happen again. I was wrong.

My hearing which had become oh so acute, heard the car door shut, the key turning in the door. Footsteps across the polished oak floor boards above. Part of me knew it was my dad, the other half thought food. The door to the cellar opened.

My yellow eyes stared up at him and a growl slipped from my throat. He stopped in his tracks and flipped the light switch. We stared at each other; I was fighting the beast, stopping it from climbing the stairs. He could see the clothes on the floor around me and his eyes widened.

"Gabriel?"

His voice was barely a whisper, but I could hear it. I could hear him as if he had spoken next to me and I put my head down to the floor slowly and then raised it back up, letting him know that it was me. I saw him swallow, his pulse speeding. His fear sparked the animal part of me.

I growled a low warning, as my body shivered in the anticipation of a hunt. The sound I made seemed to spur dad into action and with a step back he closed the basement door on me.

The beast was angry with me, I had let its food escape, and with no way to leave the basement but the door, which my dad had locked, we where going to be stuck in here, hungry. The only question left was what was my dad going to do...

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