Emory yawned and stretched out her arms. Rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes, she awoke to find her new friend gone. She called for him, but heard no reply. She was dissapointed, but remembered as far as she knew, the wild was his home. She took off her cloak and gathered her belongings in her bag. She got up when suddenly she heard the sound of cracking from across the stream. She assumed it was a deer or some other animal in the brush, until she heard a pained roar and the sound of panting. It all reminded her of the friend she made the night before. She called out to him.
"Hey! Is that you wolf?"

She got no reply. Curiosity taking the wheel, she jumped over the stream and went into the brush to investigate.

The cracking had stopped, and she stepped into a small clearing to find a figure lying motionless on the ground.

Emory had no idea what she was looking at. It looked human but somewhat... off. The creature wore tattered shorts, and had numerous scars on his unnaturally charcoal body. His long hair was down to the middle of his back, and was gray-ish red and blue in color. What confirmed everything was the gash on his leg, the bandages laying to the side, completely detached. There was no mistaking it. This was the beast Emory had befriended last night. Her bright green eyes were upon a werewolf.

She looked over to the tree the werewolf was laying next to. It had claw marks on it. Her friend had reverted right here. She shuddered as she realized it wasn't the sound of twigs snapping in the brush she heard, but the breaking of bones. She read the transformation process of a werewolf in a book once, but never thought it to be true. She felt sorry for the creature on the ground, having to go through this every month.

She wasn't strong enough to get him up, but she turned him onto his back and redid his wrappings after cleaning he bandage. The werewolf's chest gently rose with each quiet breath he took. Emory sat next to him, waiting for him to awaken. Soon enough, the creature opened his now purple eyes, dazed.

...

Mystic held her daughter's puffball-wolf sketch in his hands, listening intently as she finished talking. He looked at her with amazement in his sapphire eyes.

"That really happened?"

"Yes, Papa."

"And he didn't attack?"

"No."

Mystic was quite puzzled. A werewolf who didn't attack? It was bizzare. Unheard of. Impossible, even. And there he was, seeing his daughter clearly happy about the encounter. A close up encounter with a beast of the woods. He had to render it a miracle that his daughter was here in one piece, completely unharmed. Impossible for a werewolf to resist bloodlust, or, so he thought.

"Are you sure you wish to go back and see him?"

Emory smiled. "Yes Papa, he's really cool!" She looked down for a moment, before taking her father's hand. "You can come with me if you want! I know he likes to keep away from people, but once he knows you're my father, then I'm sure he'll trust you!"

Mystic couldn't be too sure about this, but looking at his excited daughter, refusal just wasn't an option. He smiled and agreed as he went for his hat and staff. "What did you say his name was again?" he asked.

Emory went for her bag and cloak and answered.

"His name is Nero."

(End of Chapter)

OH MY GOODNESS IT'S HERE! I just finished reading this, and I'm hooked! I can't wait to see what you'll come up with. ^ v ^