Meadow Falls - Book One

08 (SE)

"Yes?" I ask with little interest. I am sure there is disgust exposed as clear daylight in my brown eyes. She flinches noticeably when she sees the look on my face.

I look into her eyes, not breaking eye contact although the more rational part of me tells me that it is a bad idea to do so. It doesn't help that she's the future Beta of her pack.

This is one reason why it shocked me to see concern. What the hell? Concern? My eyes must be playing tricks with me.

I was expecting fury and maybe a few werewolves appear to handcuff me for disrespecting her.

The werewolf hesitates and blinks a few times. She stutters before she says, "I'm sure you don't know me but I'm . . ."

Narrowing my eyes at her, I cut her off rudely. "Gwen. And you already know my name so tell me what you're about to say so I can be on my way."

She gulps loudly in nervousness. "Umm. . . You shouldn't receive gifts from strangers, Melanie. They might be kidnappers," Gwen says softly. Even if she looks so innocent, I can hear the authority in her voice.

How dare she tell me what to do! I am a Hunter and will never be ordered by anyone, especially by a werewolf who thinks that she is greater than . . .

Wait a second . . . she cares for me? She is a werewolf and I never utter a word to her before today.

Is my mind playing tricks with me? Or is this werewolf asking for a death wish?

My eyes harden into cold anger instantly. She shouldn't have seen that. What if 116 and 78 saw her? I doubt they will spare her life like what I'm doing. In fact, she's lucky that I'm the hunter situated here in Meadow Falls or else this killer rogue could kill not just humans.

"It is none of your business," I reply harshly. From her point of view, I'm pretty sure I look like a teenager who is nothing but trouble. If I were her, I wouldn't bother advising me because I would surely keep a distance from a troublemaker.

Gwen fiddles with her fingers nervously. "I hope you know what you're doing. You should tell Nate or your uncle if you need to say anything. Please don't ruin your own future with drugs."

At that very moment, I am confused at what she said. It takes me a second to fully realize that she had assumed that I'm dealing drugs with 116 and 78. No wonder she thinks that I'm up to something.

I don't bother to correct her so instead, with one hard look, I say, "Look, I have places to be."

I step aside and walk past her, no longer acknowledging her presence. Before she can catch up with me, I hurriedly walk out of Dave's Bistro and make my way to my Ferrari.

Once safely in the car and on the way to Uncle Scott's house, I let out the breath that I had been holding since my small encounter with Gwen.

That was so weird! What is up with this werewolf? Why is she so obsessed with Nate? Or maybe she is suspicious of him? Maybe she is already thinking him as a hunter . . .

I thought I had everything covered. No one has discovered us before and it is important that no one finds out that we, The Deadly Twins, are just teenage twins who are orphans.

No. It couldn't be the hunter matter. Gwen's eyes always light up whenever she hears Nate's name. The way her face brightens up and she has a goofy grin plastered on her face. Like a teenager thinking of her crush. Or a slut eyeing on her next victim.

Is she a slut?!

She doesn't look like it at all! She never flirts with Nate. She doesn't wear those slutty clothes. Heck, Nate had never talked to her. Perhaps she's a new kind of slut? Innocent at the outside but a devil inside? Once she gets her hands on Nate and he falls into her trap, she'll show her true colours.

By then, it might be too late. Nate will be heartbroken. This werewolf is going to pay for messing with The Deadly Twins, even if she's unaware of it.

I have got to start planning her death if this is going to happen. First, I'll make her shift into her wolf and skin her fur off so I can use it as a fur coat. Then when she looks like a pink hairless mole, I'm going to . . .

Stop with this sadistic train of thoughts, Mel, I scold myself.

Maybe I'm just paranoid. . . I do sound mentally ill when I think of ways to kill a certain werewolf. I shouldn't judge people too easily. Who knows, she might just be keeping an eye on us since we're new and all.

I step on the brakes when I see Uncle Scott's house not far ahead of me. The brown package is safely situated on the seat next to me. Hopefully, this book has answers to my questions.

Not just about the pack, but also about Gwen's weird behaviour.

I rip the package to see a title-less black book. The cover is slightly rough like the surface of a brick. My fingers run through the white papers with fancy fonts and pictures of drawings. It also smells freshly printed. The first page is printed 'Hunters and Werewolves'. At the bottom is printed published by Hunter Headquarters and written by Red.

Red is a legendary hunter. It is rumoured that he is in his early fifties. Werewolves fear him more than Nate and I. Whenever he kills, he always leave a letter 'R' on their chest. He can kill with whatever he has in his hands. No one knows his real name, just like how they don't know Nate's and my name. Red is the name given to him by werewolves since whoever seen him claims that he has red eyes that can make a giant cower.

I'm pretty sure the red eye thing is not true.

Red is currently at the top of the most feared werewolf hunters whereas the Deadly Twins follow behind him in second place. He's much more ruthless compared to us. All werewolves know this.

Werewolves always think that werewolf hunters are evil and merciless. To be honest, we do look evil and all but we always use our brains before killing werewolves.

I lock my car and enter the forest. A stroll in the woods wouldn't hurt. Once I'm in, I whistle for Hazard. He lands on my shoulder as I continued my walk. The more I walk, the greener the scenery becomes. A meadow appears in front of me. It is so green and full of life. Colourful flowers and butterflies everywhere. There is a short tree in the middle of meadow and branches that are short enough to tie two ropes on it and make it into a swing.

If I were an artist, I would stare at the meadow all day to memorize every leaves in the trees, every butterfly on small flowers or clouds hanging in the sky.

I make myself comfortable under the tree and start reading the book. 

Author's Note

Picture of Alpha Green by the side.

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-M.