Young Writers Society

This is what I guess is a Historical Fantasy. I'm using some historical events and people, but I am adding some of my own places, geographics features and all that. So please read and enjoy.

I sat at the edge of a high precipice staring over the vast city of Rome. We Werewolves and the Humans of the Roman Empire were at mutual peace since its creation, but we Werewolves knew it wouldn’t last long. Caesar, Rome’s latest Emperor had a hate for Werewolves and we could sense the tension from the people as we walked in their cities. The only reason they did not kill us straight off because they were afraid of us. But I knew that would not last long, Caesar and his advisors would find away by this fear and kill us all.

“The city of the damned,” came a voice I recognized. It was my life long friend Gregor. His muscular build, skin of rough leather, fiery red hair, and his cold blue eyes were enough to scare any human out of their wits, but to every Werewolf he was gentle as a pup. And despite his red hair, when he turned wolf, he fur was a black as the night sky. He sat right next to me and stared at Rome with distaste. “The Werewolves need to move out of there before those damned Humans try something. We’ll have our throats slit while we sleep one of these nights.”

“Yeah, but we’ve become dependent on the Romans,” I replied. “I noticed that not a lot of Werewolves hunt anymore. They’ve taken up to buying the cattle meat from the sellers in the market.” I let out a low sigh and shook my head at the way we came to rely on the humans. “Wanna go see what Geedo is doing in Zeinta?”

“Sure,” came Gregor’s instant reply. “Race you there.” And as soon as I heard race I jumped up from the precipice and dived head first towards the ground. I alighted onto my white paws and started running deep into the woods. “You cheater!” Gregor yelled. I heard a low growl behind me and I knew the race was on.

Gregor and I were known for being the fastest Werewolves in Rome, but that was due to the fact we weren’t succumbed to the laziness the others have while living in the city. We ran deeper and deeper into the forest scaring every animal we passed. I wove in and out of trees toying with Gregor who still was trying to catch up with me.

The scents of smoke soon reached my nostrils and stopped on two human feet not too far from Zeinta. “Gregor, stop!” I called as Gregor shot past me. He slowed to a stop, stood on his human feet, and stared back at me.

“You give up already?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “Smell the air.”

“Smoke?” He looked at toward the direction of Zeinta. “Dammit.” He dropped to the ground on his paws and started running.

“Gregor, come back!” But he did not respond to my cries and I was obliged to follow. I dropped to the ground on my paws and ran as fast as I could after him. My first and wishes for thought was that someone accidently set fire to a building, but as I neared Zeinta I knew I was wrong.

I slowed to a walk and stared around the devastation of Zeinta. Zeinta was made soon after Caesar took rule. It was a small temporary village that Werewolves could escape to when Caesar planned to kill us all off, but it seems that Caesar’s troops found it and destroyed it.

I looked into the smoldering remains of a house and say the burnt corpse of a Werewolf in mid-transformation. I stood up on two feet and continued looking at the devastation that Caesar caused. Then far off I heard that faint whimpering of Gregor.

I came around a corner and saw Gregor in wolf form staring at the body of a wolf: Geedo, Gregor’s grandfather. Slowly his body reverted to its human form and tears flecked his face. “He’s dead,” Gregor whispered, “They’re all dead.” I looked up and saw the charred remains where his house once stood. Inside were three bodies. Amina, Iro, and Tyrok, Gregor’s family. His only family. “Caesar will die.”