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I was taught to hate werewolves because my father told me they killed my mother. But when I looked into the green eyes, I saw how scared he was. Or maybe it was something else I saw in those deeps.
My inner voice said, but I pushed it aside. My heart ached as I saw the cuts and bruises that he had all over him. And the question I asked myself was why ? I didn't know him. As hearing my thoughts he looked at me.
" How can you hunt your own kind ? " he asked, his voice pained.
" Excuse me ? " I said shocked by what he said. " I'm not like you !" I snapped.
Before he could say anything else my father asked me out of the room and then they tortured him some. His cries of pain was heard as I walked away. My heart sinking at the sound of his cries of pain. I was no better than my father, all the reasons why I didn't want to be a hunter. No one, werewolf or not shouldn't be treated this way. I did want any part of it. I was not a killer nor will I ever become one.
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