Accepted With Scars

Prologue

Because I am Nice, I am leaking the Prologue to this book!!!

Prologue

I was running, I realized with a start, one problem I always had was when my wolf was out it could choose if I was awake or not. Its strange I know, and perhaps it was because of my mix-breed. A made wolf with hereditary magic, but it did made my journeys faster. If I ran in my human form then my wolf could sleep, and when I let my wolf take over and run, I could sleep. It wasn't something that I had ever heard of before, but then again I didn't hear much.

So, that's how I went from sleeping to running in my naked, human form. I hadn't planned on running today, it was my birthday after all. I guess my wolf had a different idea. It was hard to believe I had been in this hell hole,for 17 years. Two years of which were on the run. Its not that I was running from anyone, more like trying to find answers. No witch would talk to me since I was also a werewolf. No werewolf would help me because I was a rouge.

I absentmindedly, saw blood on my leg, a thorn sticking out. This was a down fall of my sleeping scheduled with my wolf. When I came to, I had mysterious holes and cuts from branches and litter in the woods. I stopped running and pulled out the thorn, running my hand over my leg the blood dried and the deep gash disappearing.

My healing magic was more developed then my elemental. I have realized these last two years, there was a general misconception on magic. There was no special language and no potions. Well, not that I knew of. I was told that there were an estimated 6 witches left in the world, but not from what I would call a valid source. The 15 years I spent in the pack I learned close to nothing, I was given my school education but it was only given to me so I could do more work for them. Looking around my legs, I barley acknowledged the scars on the back of them. Actually the back of my arms, hands, legs, and my back were covered in scars from the regulars beatings I got.

I thanked the skies that my 'parents' had died. A war had broke out and they didn't make it, so I was out-casted and turned rouge. They weren't really my parents as much as my creators. Werewolves had killed most witches and my Wicca birth-parents, were no different. The ones who called themselves my parents since I was 5, had bitten me. Adding a wolf to my soul and ultimately, ruining any-chance I had at a normal life.

I had been used as a healer, and as a weapon. I was my old packs wild card against others, but, as soon as my creators were killed, my ties broke to the pack, so I left. They searched for a few months, but gave up. They thought me to weak, that I would die on my own. Two years later, it felt nice to prove them wrong.

I looked around me, unsure of where I was. I normally just ran in the Safe Zones. The area's where rouges could roam freely. I had met a few rouges that were like me, no red eyes and shifted. The few of them I found were people forced to the rouge life, not the ones who chose it. But, I still never found what I was looking for. Someone, anyone, who knew my family. Someone who could tell me about them. I faintly remember somethings, like a cake. But I have no recognition of what they looked like, their names. All I knew was the family crest that our magic leaves on our skin. A small Witches Star, is what its called. Also known as a Pentagram sat on the back of my neck, it was a dark red, looking almost like a birthmark, which I guess in a way it was.

I would love to have someone to tell me about the only people who ever accepted me. The last people who ever loved me.

I had slowed down to a walk, when I realized how unfamiliar the are I was in was. It felt different than the other Safe Zones. My wolf was not sleeping as she usually did after a run. In fact, she felt, excited. Her energy way high and I assumed she did not run the whole time, most likley she rested during the night.

Footsteps thudded toward me, and I wasted no time in hightailing it out of there. In rouge territories, you didn't stay around to see if it was a good rouge or not. However, the wolf continued to sound closer. I caught a flash of red at my side. 'Well, Damn', I thought pushing my legs harder. My wolf had been running to long, and needed a break, I would have to handle this.

'Runner!' My wolf yelled. I had suspected at much, Runners were the fastest of every pack not the strongest, but they tired you out so that the big guys, also known as the Warriors, could get you. Panic clawed at my throat. This wasn't a safe zone, I realized. A cry ripped from my throat, as I realized I was on Pack Territory.

And they weren't happy about it. In that second, it went from one wolfs paw sounds... to what sounded like hundreds of them, closing in on my feet.