Okay, before I get ahead of myself, we have to get some things straight:
1) Yes, I am a werewolf. I have a pack. Actually, it’s not mine. But I might as well own it-I’m the only female.
2) What ever you think you know about werewolves, YOU DO NOT. Chances are you got your so-called knowledge from watching movies, a.k.a. Hollywood. We all know Hollywood gets everything wrong. Point proven, end of story. (Well, there may be one or two accurate things. You’ll find out about them in a minute.)
3) Werewolves have never EVER been friends with vampires, and vice versa. It’s just not right.
And now on to me. And my pack. May name is Asriel. Asriel Redbird. I’m half Navajo, half Irish, and all badass. Seriously. So is the rest of my pack. It’s a good precaution against anyone trying to get too friendly with us, to get to know us. I’m sixteen, five foot ten, with long, straight black hair, and topaz-golden eyes. Now, enough about me. You must be wondering about my pack. (Like I said before, it’s not really mine, but I’ll call it mine to minimize confusion.) And if you’re not, you should be, because I’m assuming you’re a human. So, here’s a brief ‘pack stat’, as you mortals call it:
James, our alpha. (For you dimwits, that’s the leader.) He’s mostly quiet, reserved. Very smart, and confident, too. He’s the oldest and largest of all of us, being nineteen and six-six, earning him his position. He’s also the drop-dead gorgeous one. You know-blonde hair, deep topaz eyes, model-perfect body? Yeah, thought so.
Bryson, the beta. (Again, dimwits: second-in command.) Complete opposite of James. Short, dark and ugly. (Not really- all of us are quite beautiful, if not slightly over-muscled.) and talkative. But don’t get me wrong, he’s a good leader. When he wants to be.
David, along with the rest of us, has no position, but he’s the sweetest one out of the pack. He has slightly reddish hair, and hazel colored eyes. He’s the one who usually breaks up the fights. And trust me, there are fights.
And last, but certainly not least (I love catchy phrases-especially clichés.), Zachary. He may be the youngest, but he will definitely surprise you. He happens to be our local astrologer. Yep, he can ‘read the sky’, as he calls it. But you really wouldn’t know it, looking at his chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, and small composure. But, damn it, if he starts his sentence with, "Well, according to the sky...” then you better pay attention.
All right, enough of that. Before we move on to the actual story, I have a little myth-busting to do. As I mentioned earlier, Hollywood gets everything wrong. And what do I mean by everything? Well, for one, we don’t change into huge, monstrous half-human beings that barely resemble wolves every full moon. No, in fact, we can change at will. We just become stronger during a full moon. Also, we look just like regular wolves, just slightly bigger. Werewolves also have a higher body temperature, about one hundred none degrees, so don’t; expect us to pop up in any hospital-we heal pretty quickly anywise.
There’s also this weird thing about our eyes. We all have golden, or close to it, colored eyes. Well, except for Zachary. But he’s weird anywise. Also, our eyes glow in the moonlight, like an animal’s. That’s mainly how we tell if someone is one of us. That, and the slightly larger-than-normal canines.
Ok, I think we’ve covered enough for now. Let’s get on to the story.
Try to read it to yourself, taking a long pause whenever you come across a period.
