Young Writers Society

I looked around and saw nothing but darkness surrounding me on all sides. All I smelled was animals and earth, but I heard something move off in the distance.

"Lethero," came a voice out of the darkness, "is that you? It's me Layleun."

"Yes," I replied quietly, "but what are you doing out here."

Aran woke up, her head was throbbing. She remembered what happened and sprang to her feet grabbing for a knife from her pocket, but there were none. There was a guy sitting across a fire from her sipping on a water canteen.

"Where are my knives?" She demanded. He pointed to a pile of her knives to the side of the fire.

"i didn't want you trying to kill me." He said, "That is a whole lot of knives."

"Where am I and how did I get here?" She asked picking up her knives and putting them all back to where they were supposed to go so that she could get them when needed and they would slide into her gadget if needed.

Lion looked at her, "My camp on the outskirts of town. I brought you here after you were attacked by those men." He put a cup of tea down next to him and the girl came up and took it.

"May I ask your name?"

"Lion."

"I'm Aran," she stuck out her hand, but lion didn't repliy the favor.

Instead he asked, "Why were those men chasing you?"

"I'm not positive," She thought, "I think it was cause I accedentually heard their meeting or something of that sort."

"What about?" Lion asked,

"Some army gathering," SHe replied.

The country this is happening in is Italy, and the human force is in Rome.

Hmm. Can I make a suggestion? I know little or nothing about Italy. Even less about Rome. And especially during the 1800's. I don't think any of us do. For the sake of the storybook, let's place this in America.

I'm also taking a look at what's been written so far and none of it sounds or looks like it takes place in Rome. I like realism. What can I say?

-Kylan

AAAAAHHHH!!! I think your right, now post people!!!! Mwahahahaha

moi

Ok, for the sake of everyone's sanity, I will move this story to America, we just need to decide the area. Next time you post please offer a suggestion for the human city. I'm going to say New York, or Philadelphia.

New York, NOW POST people PLEASE!!!

*The first time i wrote this, it was good but my connection died and I want this to be posted so it's a bit sloppy, sorry.*


Caeyan walked down the dark street and a familiar scent passed by. She felt a cold shock go down her spine. She walked towards it, against her better judgement, and heard voices. It was Layleun and Lethero alright. She took a step forward and made a sound and all of the sudden a hand was around her throat.

"Lethero, let go of me." She said in a cold voice.

"Oh, it's you, Caeyan." He said, letting go of her neck.

"Yeah. And I don't want to be around you, so I'm going." She said and turned to go.

"Wait, we could use you later on." Layleun said.

"Not if I have to be around him." Layleun grabbed her arm an pulled her aside.

"Look, I know you're still mad at Lethero for that, but being a werewolf isn't so bad."

"Yes, it is." Layleun looked desperate and Caeyan sighed. "Ok, but only for you."

"Caeyan," I said, "when I bit you, you were attacking me. It's your fault, I ways only defending myself."

"That still won't make me like you more," Caeyan said.

"Being one you'll learn that we always have to live in fear of the humans attacking us. We only fight if we are attacked."

"The army huh," said Lion taking another sip of tea. "They'll all wined up dead."

"Why do you say that?" asked Aran

"The true government millitary wont make a move until all the facts are striaght and information gathered. This *army* will be nothing, but a bunch of civilians who have never wielded a weapon."

"What are you?"

"A hunter of sorts."

Layleun laughed, those two fight too much, she thought to herself.

"I actually like being a mutt." Layleun grinned at the joke.

Lethero looked serious, "Never call yourself a mutt."

"Aww but you know I am." Layleun scratched her ear viciously, her feather earrings jingling. She stopped and continued from her seat on the ground, "So what brings you here, Caeyan?"

Since no one is taking Kalain, I'll use him.

Name:Kalain
Age:49
Race:Vampire
Appearance:Giant wings which he keeps under a black cloak. Pale face and red eyes, carries a giant sword on his back, and Talks in a cold dark voice.

"Canan," Kalain said, "I don't like the idea either, but if we must protect the Vampires then we must."

"Those damn musts will only get in our way than help us," Canan replied.

"I don't like working with them either." I turned my back to her. "Remember it was a Werewolf who saved your life when you were little."

"That does not change the fact that we'd kill each other!" She walked towards the door and before leaving she said over her shoulder. "Besides that wolf was different from the rest." With the slam of the door she walked left.

Kovalevsky stared at the horizon with a scowl. The sun was setting, sending long spidery shafts of golden light through cradles on the hillside. Had the day really passed so quickly? Was it really time for his body to retreat into the shell of an animal. Daytime was spoiled by the prospect of the evening. There was no chance to enjoy his fingers, no chance to enjoy his thoughts. His eyes were always on the horizon. And the sun was always sinking.

It was a loosing battle. The moon inevitably won. Kovalevsky invariably lost. He was jammed inside a paradox of life. A shadow. He was not human. He was a monster. His mother had told him so, after all. Fur was his nightgown and paws were his slippers.

A Nightingale spoke from a nearby tree. No hope, no hope.

Wearing his omnipresent scowl, Kovalevsky rode into the small New York town, avoiding the curious stares of the citizens. Strangers were rare. Especially those with weapons hanging at their sides. In any event, the sidearm would win him respect. Though only during the day. Albeit powerful, Kovalevsky was despised in his...unique nocturnal costume. If someone, anyone, saw his metamorphosis, he was immediately branded an outcast. That was why he kept moving. Kovalevsky had no home.

Permanently nomadic, due to a bite in the forearm.

But he was not here today for fresh and unbiased human company. Not for a game of cards, not for a drink. Kovalevsky was here because of a legend: Lethero. The only man-wolf influential enough to stop the hate and fight for a more open-minded world. An impossible task, yes, but worthwhile. Besides, if he found this Lethero tonight he would be accepted - his holy grail - among those of his own kind. He had even heard rumors of vampires in Lethero's resistance.

He moved passed an alleyway, nose assimilating familiar scents. Scents of wolf urine and sweat, residue from a metamorphosis. He was not disapointed. Behind a bar, in an empty lot, three man-wolves sat talking. His eyes narrowed and he dismantled, looping the horse tether around a wooden pole supported by veranda columns. He whispered quietly to the horse and moved silently towards the group. He stuck to the shadows.

"I actually like being a mutt," a woman said to a broad shouldered man, with a smile.

"Never call yourself a mutt."

"Aww but you know I am. So what brings you here, Caeyan?"

Another woman raised her head to speak, but stopped. "We're not alone, Lethero," she said quietly. Kovalevsky frowned. She turned around and looked into the shadows. "Show yourself."

Kovalevsky moved forward. The man stood up and his eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"A friend," he said simply.

"Friends have names."

"Kovalevsky."

"Foreign?"

"I come from Ukraine. Are you Lethero?"

"It depends," he said with a smile. "It always depends. But sit, my friend. You have come a long way to chat with a poor man."

"A powerful man."

Lethero shrugged. Kovalevsky took a seat farthest away from the three people.

"What do you want with this Lethero?" the man asked.

"I would like to fight."

"There are armies for that. I'm only one man."

"Make that two."

Lethero grinned. "Assuming many things, are you prepared to die for your kind?"

Kovalevsky stared at him from under his wide brimmed hat. The sun was almost gone. He had to get indoors quickly.

"Nyni cholovik zhyye, zavtra hniye." he whispered solemnly. "Today a man lives, tomorrow he rots."

Canan walked away from the house, did he always have to bring that up? But he was right...and she hated it when he was right. She pulled her arm cover closer, not wanting the chills to run up her arm.

Before long she had wandered far beyond her home and into a group of werewolves.

"Oh God!" she said when she reconized them for what they were.

"Who are you?" a male asked.

"Canan, who are you?"