When She Calls

Chapter One

My eyes slowly open as I hear loud snarls from outside. My small feet barely make a sound in the carpet as I walk over to the window. I look out only to see huge wolves with armor on attacking the members of my pack. I stand there in shock, my ten year old self not knowing what to do.

I see my father's wolf slip into the battle and I grip the windowsill. Please, daddy, don't die. I scan the battleground looking for Mother. I don't spot her when, there! "Oh, no." I whisper, tears threatening to fall as I see three wolves circling her.

Never have I doubted my mother's skills like I do now. They lunge, their huge bodies soaring through the air while she dives and rolls but she is not fast enough to escape all of them.

I watch as one bites down on her neck. She goes to try and shake the wolf off, but it clamps down harder. Blood begins to pour out of her ripped neck after he lets go. It soaks the ground around her before they begin to aggressively shake her.

She goes limp and it's at that moment that my father's wolf let's out a long howl. The pack joins in, before they all submit to the intruders. One man from the enemy shifts and places chains on every wolf.

It connects them, I realize, so they can't escape without someone knowing. They're taking them away from me. My only family I have left. Just when I think no one is getting hurt anymore a wolf lunges and snaps my father's neck with ease.

Not that my father put up a fight. A scream rips it's way from my throat and everyone glances up at the house. Panic sets in and I slowly back away from the window.

I peek out the window again, trying to see if anyone is coming to the house. A few men stay behind after the others trudge through the forest. They start heading this way. I quickly run towards my closet and jump in my clothes bin.

I can still feel the warmth from the clothes being in the dryer. Maybe if I listen hard enough I can hear my mom's light footsteps carrying the basket up the stairs. Tears well up in my eyes because I know that will never happen.

I hear someone ransacking my room, I try to control my breathing but it comes out irregular and harsh. Papers crumple as they continue searching my room. Their heavy footsteps make the old boards creak. Then my closet door is opened. My breathing stops but my heart continues to race. After finding nothing they leave the small room. Letting out a loud sigh, I let myself breath. That's when I realize they didn't leave the room.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" A gruff voice calls out. After waiting several moments, he leaves. Fearing for my life I stay curled up until hours have passed after they have left. Even after I know they're gone, I still stay in my closet, not wanting to face the reality of the situation.

What am I going to do?

Nine years after the attack

I leave my house to hunt. My bow is slung over my shoulder, with my quiver on the other. I haven't hunted in human form in a while.

I tend to be more accurate in wolf form, plus I get more food. I head to the forest that encircles my pack grounds. The same forest that my pack members were forced to trek through.

I walk down the path I go almost every day, so it's clear of any branches. I kick a rock out of my way before turning right.

I hear the squirrel before I see it. An arrow is already notched in my bow. It scampers up a tree, then it stops. I don't know if it sensed the immediate dangers or if it is something else.

The arrow embeds itself in the squirrel's neck. It hangs there, limp. I stuff the body in my small bag and continue on through the forest.

I shoot two more rabbits before I decide to head back. I've walked farther into the woods than I normally go.

I trek through the leafy vegetation before coming to a stream. It's the same one that we would drink out of when we hunted so long ago.

Feeling a deep sense of loss, I stoop down and drink some of the cold water. It soothes my parched throat and I gulp down more. When I feel as though I've had enough, I continue home.

I see the house through the trees but decide to take a detour. I head to my parents grave. When they died, and the attackers left, I grabbed a shovel from the shed.

I slowly climb out of the basket when my legs both fall asleep. Rushing to the window, I find my parents still lying there. Seeing no one else on the grounds, I run downstairs.

The smell of death hits me when I step outside. A lot of bodies are over the ground, and I knew I had a lot of work to do.

Tears pour down my face as I go through the fallen. Sarah, Colton, Jack. All my fellow pack members lie scattered around me. At least, those who didn't get taken.

The shed doors loom in front of me. I pull open the old doors. They creak on their unoiled hinges, but still open.

I take a shovel and start digging

Green moss covers most of the graves. I place fresh flowers everyday, this morning the bright yellow looks nice.

I sit beside my mother's grave and lean against my father's. It's always given me some comfort, being here with them.

"I miss you guys." The words I normally say. But on some days, I say more, quite a bit more. I tell them about my life, how I've got nothing to show for the last nine years.

I close my eyes and let the cold from the stone seep into my skin. The grass is still wet from the morning dew, and my pants are quickly damp.

After awhile I decide to go back inside and skin the meat. It's starting to give off an unpleasant odor I still have yet to get used to.

Yet, as I near the house, I sense something amiss. I smell the air and detect another's presence. The hair on the back of my neck prickles.

I creep towards my house and see the front door ajar. A shadow moves in the left corner, probably stealing from me. Why they would steal from me is shocking.

I want to keep the element of surprise on my side, so I'm quiet going in the house.

But what I didn't know was that there were two of them. One came up from behind me while the other appeared with a knife at my throat.

"You're coming with us." The one with the knife says before the one behind me hits me on the head. I crumple to the ground, holding my injury.

When they see I didn't pass out they start hitting and kicking me. Mostly aiming for my head, but I rise, unsteadily, to my feet.

I tackle the one with the knife, but a quick swipe leaves a shallow cut in my arm. I take the knife and slice his neck, giving him a quick death.

But I forgot about the second guy, and I turn around to see him with a vase in his hands. Before I can move he throws it at me and it shatters against my head. This time, when I fall down, I stay down.