The Stories of an Immortal

My Werewolf Friend

(For the purpose of anonymity, though it is not her real name, I will call my friend Jane)

Jane and I became friends when we discovered both of us were different from everyone else. We had both travelled to places no one else dared to imagine, and we both had the ability to time-travel.

We grew closer as we shared experiences that were so similar and different at the same time. For example, we had both ridden beautiful dragons, yet while Jane made friends and wanted to keep hers as a pet, I simply let mine fly back into the wild to fend for itself.

It didn't take long for Jane to confide in me about being a werewolf: it was clear I wouldn't mind in the slightest. However, I hated seeing her become so ill in the days leading up to the full moon, although she assured me that transforming into a creature that made her feel so strong, free and powerful was well worth the pain before and after.

Young as I was when I met Jane, I had still made many enemies. One day I was kidnapped, because a group of people I once crossed paths with believed I had information concerning a certain hybrid. They knew how close I had become to Jane, and assured me the rest of her life would be short and painful if I didn't share what I knew.

I managed to escape without harming Jane or myself (how I did it will have to wait until another time), but I now knew that this friendship I had with Jane was far too dangerous to continue.

What I should have done was talk to her. I should have explained the situation I was in, told her what I was feeling, and we could have come up with a solution together. Alas, even I make mistakes at times, though I will never make this mistake again.

I told her nothing. I didn't even tell her that someone threatened her life. I wiped her friends' memories of her, only her family knew she existed. They then all conveniently moved house, far away from where I met Jane, but not before Jane forgot her life since she met me.

No more memories of sharing experiences with someone who understood. No more memories of sharing coffee with people she had known for years. No more memories of a life where she knew being a werewolf was okay and she was just fine the way she was.

I didn't just get rid of her memories. She was now no longer a werewolf. I saw it as a curse, better if it was gone. I forgot how she saw it as a blessing, the one time when she could be so strong, free and powerful. The one time she could be herself.

This story is a lesson for me. A lesson of all the mistakes I made with Jane, and a reminder of what to do differently next time I have a werewolf friend.