Through out history my kind have certainly gotten a pretty bad wrap. You heard the story about the big bad wolf? A fairy tale that in actuality is more than likely a cautionary tale about what happens when innocent girls talk to creepy degenerate cretins. The wolf is the cretin. Ha! Didn't that coming. In Norse mythology. There's the big monster wolf named Fenrir who is Loki's son and is chained up by the gods. Apparently he was getting too big and they chain him up. So he grows up this big fierce nasty bugger whom everyone is terrified of. Being chained up and scorned just because of what you are would turn anyone into a howling mass of rage. Take it from someone who's been there. The question is if Fenrir was going to be so powerful and evil why would he be allowed to live? The answer? The gods had such great respect for their holy places and sanctuaries that they would not dare defile it with the blood of a wolf. Hmm...really, thanks a bunch? Despite the fact that Fenrir is supposed to be the death of Odin. I suppose the end really does justify the means, even in mythology. I suppose it didn't matter in the end. Fenrir kills Odin anyway. Thanks Grandad, it's been swell. Let's do lunch sometime, oops too soon? In turn Vidar avenges his father Odin's death by ripping apart Fenrir's jaws. Ouch. When I was a wee one I would remember hearing mothers tell their children:
"Be good, or the wolf will get you." I certainly wasn't good. I went through that rebellious phase that many children go through. Maybe me more than others. I looked different than the other children in the camp. I was taller, paler, light eyed and awkward. I always felt like I had to prove myself. I learned that fighting was the only way to earn the respect of others. So, I thought. Even when I was a child my mother would call me her "wild wolf." Maybe she somehow knew what my fate would be. Mum was good with things like that. The big bad wolf did get me. I might sound crazy when I say I'm really glad he did. Although to this day I wonder just how I survived that attack. He ripped into my shoulder. I remember that bite was like no pain I had ever felt before. It was the worst feeling I had ever felt. I still get mildly nauseated writing about it now. He tore a nice chunk out me and left me there before he finished off Old Man MacGregor and his sons. I can still hear their terrified agonized screams. The sounds of flesh ripping. The sound of crunching bones and the snarling. I remembered laying on my side. My fingers in my bloody shoulder.
"This is it." I thought to myself. "I'm done. I'm going to die. I do ONE good deed even though it was slightly bad and now I'm dead for it. Oh grand. Thanks a lot, God. You're going to hear from me if I ever reach those pearly white gates. I'm only nineteen...and I'm going to die." I thought this and the wolf turned away from the remains of his meal. His burning hell fire eyes were fixed on me. Watching me, the blood covering his ridiculously large body was a stark contrast to the pure white of his fur. He looked at me, into my eyes like he knew me. I'd never seen a wolf that big. To be honest, I'd never seen a wolf at all until that night. Something was different in those eyes. It was nearly human, that look, and I just stared back challenging the beast to end it. I was scared but I was not going to die like a coward. The wolf didn't respond but turned away from me and fled into the forest. Barely a streak of white. Did I mention too after all that bother that stupid chicken got away? I laugh about it now but you'll find me hard pressed to eat any chicken. No thanks. I reckon it left a bad taste in my mouth. My Uncle Will, found me that morning. He said I was barely conscious among those bodies. I bled a storm but I still managed to stay alive. He said my wounds were already half way healed. I don't think I ever heard my mother cry as hard as she did. I don't know if she cried because of my near death experience or because she knew that I was forever changed. I was different from that point on. I felt different everything was so much more intense vibrant. I was faster, I was stronger. Wounds that should have crippled a man healed within minutes. I didn't understand it until the following full moon when my body went through the change the first time. I remember the terror, the pain and a strange bliss when it was all over. I hadn't harmed anyone. I was completely aware. Unfortunately, I happened to shift in front of half the members of the camp. I hadn't gotten away fast enough. People fear what they don't understand. Fear leads them to misunderstanding. To them I was a threat. A threat that should no longer be in the camp. Instead of killing me on the spot the Chief allowed me to grab what little I had when I was back in human form. Let me say goodbye to my family and I was off on my way. I was mostly met with a sort of indifference. Not from my family however, especially my father (not my father by birth but I still called him my father.) It must have been devastating for Mum. She was six months pregnant and now losing her first born boy. (I had A LOT of half brothers and sisters. Romany are known for having large families and mum was as fertile as they came.) I remember her sobbing and clinging to me. Telling me how much she loved me.
"Don't make this harder for yourself, Mum." I told her. It was the last thing I ever said to her before leaving. I regret saying that to her. I really do. I wish I had told her how much she meant to me and how much I loved her before I left. Now I never will. What was love? What was the point of loving someone if they were just going to be out of your life anyway? I don't regret being a werewolf. I just regret that in my anger I took it out on the people I loved the most. Love hurts. I dare you to tell me any different. I was on my own after that. Learning how to cope with what I am. I think it was thanks to the wolf that I even survived at all. I did run into other werewolves in my lifetime. Most of the ones I met I didn't really like. I'm not all about pack mentality. I don't play by the rules. I see rules and I break them. Although, in a strange way I think I am starting to find my own pack. They are not wolves but I am bonded just the same. Norah, Ethan and Sach and the incoming twins. I feel proud to call them family. It was something I needed and something I was desperately running from. The last thing I needed was to need, to feel, to care. I always thought that saying "the strength of the wolf is the strength of the pack." It just might be true. I always thought I would find myself tearing through a violent and destructive path like Fenrir. Unlike Fenrir I found a place I can call home. With a family who supports and cares about me. Sure, it may be a whirlwind of **** at times. What family doesn't have their drama? I wonder what would have happened if Fenrir had that chance.
"We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be, the epitome of a savage and ruthless killer which is, in reality, no more than a reflected image of ourselves." ~Farley Mowat
