Young Writers Society

Author Note: Just a few of my thoughts to give some indication of what I'm thinking on the story at this moment. I believe a little insight into the authors thoughts helps reviews. 

This chapter was more difficult to write than the first. I think it's because as MrMuddyPig said in their review, the first chapter gets into the action almost immediately without a great deal of world-building, including more fleshing out of the characters in the village. As such I'm working on that now. I believe it would make everything happening in this chapter and future chapters more emotional and impactful; as well as providing more contrast between the protagonist as she is now, and how she'll develop over future chapters.

Thanks for taking the time to read! Please let me know what you think. Any reviews are greatly appreciated 

Chapter 2

Pure agony pulsed through my left shoulder as I started awake. Opening my eyes I couldn't hold back a groan of pain. The light stung and I quickly shut them again. Something soft tickled the bare skin of my arms. The scent of smell dirt, earth, filled my nostrils. Opening my eyes more slowly, giving myself time to adjust, I went to sit up. The excruciating pain flared into agony and I stopped. I felt weak.

Why am I so weak? Where am I? What happened?

"We got another live one! Pretty too." A deep voice spoke from nearby.

"You know what Jaron said, no playing with the humans. We'll have some bitches of our own soon enough." This voice was higher and further away.

A large, bald man leaned over me and grinned showing slightly crooked teeth.

"Hello missy. I've got a feeling we're gonna get to know each other real well."

His eyes slid down my body. Revulsion washed through me and he must have seen it on my face because his grin widened as he responded.

"Hah! You'll change your tune soon enough little flower, and I'll be there when it does."

What was I doing with these men? Everything was so fuzzy and I couldn't think through the pain. Actually, the pain was a good place to start. Despite the flare of molten agony, I rolled my head to the side to look at my shoulder. Even with the light stabbing at my eyes I couldn't help but widen them in shock. I couldn't see much other than my shoulder caked in dried blood and my shredded blouse streaked crimson all the way down the left side of my torso. Suddenly I remembered flashes of huge teeth and June screaming. June...Joe, Pieter! Dad!

"Where are my friends?!"

"Oh they're around I'm sure. Most worse off than you though you lucky bitch-to-be!"

The higher voice laughed from further away and I glanced towards the source. A thinner, almost gangly man with long scars down his left ear and cheek was rummaging through my pack.

"I hear you got Jaron with a spear! He must have been in a good mood. I'm surprised you're still alive and he didn't even ruin that pretty face of yours." He shook his head side to side as though amazed. "If it'd been anyone else you'd be in a lot more pain right now. That I guarantee. Anyway, it's 'bout time we put you with the others." He grinned sadistically, "This is gonna hurt."

Placing a hand either side of my torso, he lifted me with apparent ease and I shrieked as my vision swam with pain. Mercifully, I blacked out once again as he dropped me over his shoulder with a jolt, whip-lashing my head and shoulders against his back. The sound of him laughing at my pain the last thing I heard.

When I awoke this time my back was propped against a tree at the edge of a clearing and the light was just fading from the sky. The sun must have gone down recently. My mouth felt like sandpaper and I had a hot aching sensation all over that mingled with the pain radiating from my shoulder. Surprisingly, I hurt less than I expected, the pain was still sharp but far less mind blanketing than before. Without the pain clouding my mind, or the adrenaline of the fight, the reality of the situation began to sink in. We're all going to die. What had we done to deserve this? What brought them to our village? I'd always played at adventure, listening to Old Joe's stories and imagining myself in his place, exploring the world and fighting all sorts of creatures. Flashes of Joe being mauled, June's skin being shredded by giant claws, her blood spilling across the road filled my minds eye. A part of me knew I was in shock but it was a distant knowledge, barely seen through the fog in my mind. Bringing my legs up to my chest I wrapped my good arm around them as great sobs shook my body and tears rolled down my cheeks. I don't know how long I sat there, sobbing into my knees in the near darkness. Finally, all the terror, pain and grief that had filled me dwindled enough for clarity to return. Wiping my eyes against the short sleeve of my blouse that wasn't covered in blood, I looked up. Glancing around I saw others from my village similarly placed against trees or just lying on the grass covered in blood, about a score -twenty - of us in all. We must be in the orchards. Apples littered the ground like a storm had swept through. One nestled up against my right knee, close enough to grasp without bending forward. Licking my dry, cracked lips I grabbed it and took a bite, focused on sating my hunger for the moment.

"Ali! You're back with us. Where are the others who went with you? Did they get away?" Mayor Thompson spoke quickly from where he was propped against the tree to my left.

He was missing a few fingers on his right hand and had clear teeth marks on his forearm. I could see one knee bent at an unnatural angle, swollen and bruised. Suddenly feeling a little nauseous, I swallowed and shook my head gently, placing the apple beside me.

"No. We never had a chance. Did anyone get away from the village? What about my father?", I asked anxiously.

Thompson grimaced and I knew right away dad didn't get away.

"He's around somewhere. Damn!" he exclaimed, punching the earth with his good hand. "We'll just have to hope that Pat and his caravan get enough of a response to send some men immediately." He didn't look or sound at all confident of that. Probably because small caravaneers and peddlers don't exactly have a reputation for accurate storytelling, more the opposite. It was far less likely the duke would send out more than a scouting party on the caravaneers words than it was our own. Thompson looked like he was debating something for a moment before he spoke up again, his voice low, filled with grief.

"Ali...your dad was on watch when the howling started. He and the other watchmen are the worst off...most of them didn't make it." I felt sick at the thought of my father lying among the trees, dead or dying, the grass stained red around him. "Brady's dead...and Serena...my beautiful Serena," he continued, swallowing heavily as tears filled his eyes, already red from crying.

Old Joe's pained voice sounded from the other side of my tree, out of sight around the large trunk, "Thompson, there's no chance any real help will arrive and you know it. Our own chance is to get our message to the duke. I don't know why but it's clear they want us alive. Most of us at least. If I had to guess... well, those teeth aren't exactly made for eating vegetables."

"Joe! Are you alright? Where's June and Pieter?" I spoke quickly.

"I've been better, but surprisingly I've also been worse. June was hauled off somewhere closer to the village. Pieter's there too. I don’t think he's woken at all since that blow to the head. They seem to be taking the worst injured over there." His tone was extremely grave and it was obvious he feared the worst, especially after his earlier comment. Glancing around once more I couldn't see any of the wolfmen. Perhaps we could escape, before they killed the rest of us.

"Where are they? What, are they?"

"They're around and I have no idea. Alison, I wouldn't normally do this but without our message to the duke we might as well be dead already. We need you to get our letter to him." His calloused hand appeared around the trunk of the tree at my back, hold a blood splattered letter.

"Your best chance is to go quietly, with stealth." I accepted the letter and went to state that he was coming with me, but before I could he continued, "No. I'm not coming. I've got a torn up leg and one person can slip away more easily than two. Besides, leaving the others just doesn't sit well with me, I'm supposed to be the warden of this village."

I turned to look at Thompson but he simply gestured to his broken knee, "Joes right. Go before..." He dropped into silence, cocking his head to the side.

Deceptively light footfall's nearby grew louder until a broad shouldered, raven haired man with long jagged scars running down his left arm from under his sleeve stepped into view. He had on a threadbare shirt the colour of new leaves and rough brown pants. I'd never seen him before and from the looks the others were giving him no one else had either. Glancing over us one by one as he walked, he continued until stopping in the center of the clearing; the same clearing Joe, June, Pieter and I had been practicing our spear work in what seemed weeks ago.

"Pitiful. Barely a fighter among you." He looked disgusted as he said it. "I honestly expected hardy farm folk to mount some form of defense. Especially with word something was up." He looked around at us once more and as his dark amber eyes met mine I could see disappointment, like we had let him down. He sighed and looked away. "Ah well. Those of you that survive will serve me and you will learn. I am the alpha of this pack. You may call me Jaron."

"This pack?", Mayor Thompson spoke up, "You work with those things?! Those monsters! You let them attack our village? And Jacksonville?! People are dead because of you! You betray humanity to these demons!" Glancing at Thompson I could see him practically frothing at the mouth and gnashing his teeth in rage.

"Lives are lost in war. If their lives must be paid for justice, for vengeance, then gladly will I pay them. I would pay any price!" Jaron's words grew steadily louder as he spoke. His face twitching, clearly struggling with some deeper emotion and after a moment he abandoned his failing attempt to hide his fury. His next words were frenzied, steeped in rage, "I sacrificed everything. Everything! Even my life and the lives of my men. My friends! All to protect his son and he covers it up! I understood he needed to avoid a panic, keep the faith of the people or they'd turn on him. Couldn't let them know 'monsters' were loose in the lands. Couldn't let the fucking Caprithi know how close they came to capturing his son. He'd lose face, seem vulnerable!."

Jaron's rage red features twisted until they reflected nothing but grief, a broken man, and he continued more quietly almost as though he was talking to himself, "I could've understood. Could've went quietly into the darkness for the best of reasons. But...but-" He paused to gather himself; Taking a deep breath and schooling his face before speaking again, "Our lives were nothing to him despite all our oaths and years unwavering loyalty. His oath, his word and his honour are empty. He owes me and mine a debt of blood. I didn't betray humanity to 'these demons', humanity betrayed me to them!"

With that Jaron gripped the collar of his shirt and slid it off in one movement revealing his well-muscled arms and torso with raised pale scars running in jagged lines until they passed out of sight. Gasps of horror could be heard around the clearing. He looked like a man who should be dead. One who had survived long hours of torture, being flayed alive or worse. As I ran my gaze over the horror someone had made of his body the crunching of bone broke the fearful silence. I swiftly glanced around only to see others doing the same. It wasn't immediately clear where it came from, only when Jaron groaned did all eyes return to see his ribs straining stark white against his skin, his head thrown back towards the starlit sky beyond the treetops. His skin seemed to slither and split, growing out from his frame. His muscles following a moment later, bulging outward. What the fuck!? With a low grinding noise his jaw began to shift and push outward below glowing amber eyes as his ears grew pointed. He appeared to grow before my eyes as dark hair -fur- began to sprout from the new skin until it covered him head to toe, eventually hiding even his myriad of scars. Where before he was almost six feet tall now he stood at least seven. With a series of cracks and pops his spine curved forcing him into an almost hunched over stance and he dropped to all fours. Freshly grown long black claws dug into the grass and dirt as he stretched his new form towards the sky and howled through what was now clearly a muzzle rimmed with inch long fangs. I recognized the big black wolfman of yesterday.

Icy fear shot down my spine, no longer postponed by disbelief as whimpers and screams filled the night. Adrenaline flooded through me. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder I lurched forward grasping the rough bark of the apple tree behind me with my uninjured arm and shoulder, using it to pull myself to my feet. Turning to flee I stopped before I'd even taken a step as more wolfmen stepped out from the trees, surrounding the clearing. Each raised their muzzles to the sky, joining Jaron's howl until it filled the valley. There was nowhere to run. The hot ache I'd been feeling in the background ever since I awoke grew stronger until it suffused my body and I broke out in sweat, suddenly gasping for air. Turning back to Jaron I watched as he raised himself onto two legs, standing hunched forward, knees slightly bent. Rolling his head, he took a moment to breathe deeply. Is he, savouring the scent of our terror? With something akin to a sigh his muscles went limp and he began shrinking back to his original size with an orchestra of cringe inducing cracks and pops. As his muzzle finished receding into his skull his mouth took on a small smirk tinged with confidence, arrogance.

"And so the sheep see that a wolf is among them. A wolf in sheep's clothing just like all the stories say. You need not fear little sheep; For a wolf you may yet become. You see, all it takes is one bite and on the next full moon the sheep becomes both man and wolf, a werewolf. Or dies." His rage and grief vented for the moment Jaron smiled at our terrified, incredulous stares. "It's true and what's more, the full moon is only one night away. Most of you will die even a handful from every village will add to our numbers, until not even the garrison of Lears or the mages in their vaunted academy can offer that honourless cretin asylum. Those of you who survive will join me and leave your traitorous humanity behind. You shall be my soldiers. The instruments of my vengeance." The aching heat faded into the background once more seemingly in time with his return to humanity.

"You're even more of a musclebound oaf than you look if you think anyone will join you after killing our family and friends. I'll join them before I join you monsters!"

Instead of anger at Joe's outburst Jaron looked to my right where Joe was and laughed with a sharp, sinister edge. "Oh you'll join me. You will find new purpose and pleasures. Your old lives will mean nothing and as your alpha, you will obey me."

His gaze shifted to meet mine and the dark amber of his eyes glowed, "You too little spear-girl. A fine throw that was. I expect both you and the old man to survive the first transformation. I could use your fighting spirit." With a final glance around the clearing Jaron began to make his way back towards our village, grabbing his shirt from where it lay upon the grass.

"Enjoy your apples. It's all you'll be getting tonight."

Even with Jaron gone the clearing was still silent. A darkness beyond simple nightfall had fallen over it. From peoples expressions most were in shock. I wonder if mine is the same. Just the prospect of becoming one of those monsters, werewolves Jaron had called them...is it truly possible? That a bite could do such a thing? I'd never have believed it before but after seeing a man transform into a monster before my eyes I couldn't shake the feeling that it was true. Old Joe and Mayor Thompson clearly didn't know as they were just as silent as the rest of us. Finn was sobbing against a tree on the other side of the clearing, clutching at bloody gouges in his chest; a strip of torn, blood splattered fabric grasped in one white knuckled hand. Finn! He was on dads watch shift! Pushing off from where I still leaned against the tree I walked slowly so as to avoid jolting my shoulder. Even so I could feel the bones grinding against each other slightly and instantly felt nauseous. Standing over Finn I could hear his breath rattle. The bloody cloth he held so tightly was clearly the ruffled sleeve of a dress and his sobs resolved into faint whispers of 'Maria', the name of his eight year old sister. Suddenly seeing through tears I placed my hand on his shoulder and his face turned towards me. It took a long moment before recognition sparked in his eyes. "He- he said they had no use for children." His voice was choked, lips trembling. Tears filled my eyes as I thought of little Maria, Brady, Serena and all the rest who's fates I didn't know and I fought back sobs of my own. How could this happen? We were a simple village who grew apples and made cider. This is a nightmare. Finn must have realized what I'd come over to ask as he continued through his sobs, "Y- Your dads alive." He paused to gather himself a moment, "He lost an ear and'n eye but was alive last I saw 'im."

Not trusting my voice I nodded my thanks and knelt next to him, cradling his head with my good arm, back against the tree. I cried along with Finn until finally he fell into sleep and I followed soon after.