Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

4 years ago… Damien/Dy POV

“Dy!” A 13 year old Kirk was dashing through the forest calling for me. I saw his eyes turn yellow as he tried to use his wolf senses to find me.

He could shift now, having passed his Weaning last year. Werewolves undergo a Weaning stage on their thirteenth birthday. Until then, a werewolf stayed human and was very much vulnerable and weak. That’s why you don’t get to see tiny werewolves running around causing havoc.

Just imagine two or five year old humans. Their destructive capabilities were more than enough. If said human could turn into a werewolf, well things wouldn’t be pretty. Thank the Wolf Spirits didn’t make it that way.

“C’mon Dy, come out!” Kirk was swiveled his head around wildly using his eyes to scan the area. It was an hour after sunset and only the stars illuminated the forest. Kirk could still see though. With his alpha enhanced sight, he could clearly see approximately 50 meters away which was better than most werewolves.

I was twelve years old. My birthday was next week but I didn’t care that much about the Weaning. Pups, werewolves aged twelve and below, would have been sweating buckets.

We were out on of our night runs. I had my jogging shorts and wife beater on which were a little bit tight on my body to minimize rustling. Kirk was naked because he planned on shifting and letting loose tonight.

Kirk was straining his eyes now. I was well away his range as I was almost a hundred meters away from him. I smirked at Kirk’s scrunched up face as he pushed his senses to the limit. His naked figure glistened under the starlights. He had a good start on his body, finally growing bigger than me as his alpha genes kicked in. He had the beginnings of a six pack and his chest, arms and thighs were starting to get muscles. I was in no way scrawny but dang he was starting to look good.

He was looking for me to tell me to start the weaning process. Weaning was a rite of passage into adulthood. It was a test on whether a child was a werewolf or not. Babies born from werewolf parents, or even just one parent had a 99% chance of becoming werewolves.

However, that 1% lingered and it still scares the pack. Back in the old days when humanity was still learning to defend themselves from beasts, that 1% was a cause of division in the pack. The 1% percent could mean anything. A pup who couldn’t wean properly, someone who had a deformity or any type of weakness. Pups are judged by the alpha, beta and inner pack. The inner pack were more like squad leaders. Council members if you will. The 1% were simply called outcasts. Back in the day, outcasts were killed outright.

Scary huh? But things got better as werewolves mixed with humans. Banishment was now the harshest punishment with strong reminders of what would happen if the outcast would divulge the secret of the pack. Some outcasts were given positions in the pack as special members such as babysitting pups or interacting with humans. Few pick that option though as the shame and guilt was often too great, ending with a lot of outcasts leaving or committing suicide.

I wasn’t scared. Why should I be? My mother came from the old bloodline of werewolves.

Bunching my leg muscles, I quickly loped towards Kirk covering half the distance in mere seconds. I was careful to slow down as soon as I entered the maximum range of his senses. I was still on human form. In human form, werewolves were supposed to have only athletic-like strength. An eye change would increase only the senses and make the werewolf use an ability or two.

My body tingled a bit, but I barely broke a sweat. I never did think much about why I was a little bit stronger in human form than most werewolves. My mother always reminded me not to talk to anyone.

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