Layla and the Wolf

Prologue

Father’s last breath was stolen from him on the night of the full moon.

There was no funeral the next day, or the day after that. Instead, my mother burned his body in our backyard, where she’d burned Grandpa when his time had come. She always told me that the only way for a person’s atma- a person’s soul- to reincarnate was when there was no physical presence of the previous body left in the world. She compared the human body to a phoenix; from the ashes, new life is born.

I asked her if Granny would be coming over to see us. Whenever a person died, the books I read always had at least one chapter dedicated to family and friends gathering together to honor the dead and grieve for what was lost.

The answering slap stung.

Mother never did like Granny, but ever since the Big Argument a few years back it was as if Granny was dead. She never visited, and her name caused my mother’s temper to erupt without fail. All I knew about the situation was that Father tried to patch up their relationship, but he failed miserably.

But that didn’t stop him from telling me about Granny. Every night, he would come into my room and tell stories of his childhood. He told me not only about Granny, but his whole pack. He was the one who let me know that my werewolf blood wasn’t as dirty as my mother wanted me to believe. He was the one who held me the night I had my first Change, murmuring soothingly as I writhed and cried out in pain. Mother couldn’t even stay in the room with me, her disgust etched into her face when she saw me the day after.

Yet he was the one who was gone, and I am all alone.

-------------------------

So I've finally decided how to go about rewriting this book. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do!

- Messina