Cunning (On Hold)

Unknown

The Unknown (,e'nōn)  

Adjective  

Not known or familiar

Noun  

An unknown person or thing

Strange and unknown sounds slowly began to stream into my ears, but it was as if they were covered in a thick fog. Muffled and deep.  

"What are we gonna do with her? Sam isn't gonna wanna kill 'er, he's too...nice," came an feverishly excited voice. 

"Ugh, damn Roger, I just...I don't know, okay?" Said a different voice, only this time it was worn out and frustrated.  

"Come on! We have to get rid of the thing! It's no big deal, just take a butter knife and stab her with it! You don't even need a gun, she's that weak." Prompted the first man.  

The second man sighed agitatedly. "Rog, we've gone over this before, buddy. We have to get Alpha Sam's orders before we can even consider doing anything to her."  

"Yeah, yeah..."  

"Well it's true, and there's nothing you can do about it."  

It was then that I began to pry open my brown eyes, desperate to see what was going on. It was definitely not a surprise to me to find myself encased in a jail, surrounded by bars. I stood up on all four legs, slowly and painfully, feeling the the wound on my head begin to throb. Ignoring the pain, I slowly rotated my head around me, examining my surroundings closely. I was in a small jail, with a small window, and a small bed perched in the right hand corner. Through the window came dazzlingly large rays of milky winter sunshine, which confirmed my suspicions that it was now around 6, 7, or 8 o'clock in the morning, therefore, it had been around six or seven hours since my incident. This infuriated me. But at the same time, I was petrified with complete and utter fear. The two werewolves had been chatting casually about my execution as if they were talking about the weather. In my books, that was incredibly rude, not to mention vile and cruel.  

Of course, I could not do a single thing to help my terrible predicament, other than mope about. And that was not a very good option.  

The two unknown men outside my cell were still bickering away about my death, and I was not amused at all. Again, there was nothing what so ever I could do about it.  

"I still think we should do it oursel-hey! The fox is awake!" Exclaimed the younger werewolf, his brown eyes widening in surprise.  

The older man turned towards me curiously. "I see. So she has. Roger, alert the Alpha through your link. I will deal with this fox."  

I blinked. Oh dear. What in the world did this man mean by deal with me? 

He crouched before my cell so he could look me directly in my eyes, his grey-black hair tumbling slightly in front of his blue eyes. "Alrighty lassie. The Alpha brought you some clothes so you can shift," he pulled out a huge black shirt and some small jean shorts out carefully,"Roger and I will turn away so you may change."  

I nodded slightly, then winced. I had briefly forgotten about my injury.  

Pulling the garments closer to me with a single white paw, I backed further into the corner of the cell, away from the eyes of these two males.  

I let the wave of the shift wash over me heavily as my bones shifted and snapped, grew larger and heavier, my fur disappearing and my fingers elongating. Finally, I was in my human form, and I hastily shoved the shirt and shorts on.  

The men turned back towards me, and when the man with the unknown name saw me, his blue eyes widened, and a look of shock was written all over his slightly wrinkled face.