Chapter 2 Friends

When I was 9 years old, I met my best friend, Ally Savont. I was bullied and laughed at for being different by members of my pack and others. It's not easy being a 5'3" petite wolf when the average she-wolf height was about 5'9" to 6 foot, leggy, and built. They made fun of my curly copper-red hair with streaks of white. Someone said I looked like Frankenstein's wife. Kids were mean, very mean to the shy little wolf with golden eyes, pale skin, a dusting of freckles across my button nose bridge, and a full, pouty pink lip. I was adorable; I didn't understand why.

I made reports to several teachers, but no one wants to believe they are bullies, much less that a Moore wolf would let herself be bullied. Coming from the toughest clan had its demerits, and this was one of them. I tried my best to avoid confrontation and only spoke if spoken to, which was barely if ever. It hurt my mom so much to see me retreat into myself. I got more quiet as the school year ran through. Cressida Moore was an iron lady with a soft core. At the age of 21, she wed my father, Alistair Blackthorne, a young and upcoming wolf who would later become the fourth Official Beta of our clan.

My mother has soft auburn hair, the greenest eyes to reveal all pastures, pale, who I took after and stood at 5'8". My father and I share the same fiery hair, with his being a shade darker and tinged with grey. He had the typical grey eyes and bronze skin and stood at a good 6'2". It's obvious where I got my most distinct features; my eyes and size were a mystery. Dad was barely ever home. As an official beta, he handled pack matters, transported treaties, sat in council meetings, and settled minimal disputes that were within his power to do so. He worked long hours and took trips quite often. It was usually just me and Mommy, but when he was around, we had a blast. He'd take us shopping, to amusement parks, to the beach; we'd cook together, sing together, play the piano quite well, and when we could afford it, he bought one and taught me to play. He and Mommy would sit by the fire with steaming cups of cocoa in hand and regale each other of their days in soft tones, touches, and quiet laughter. When it was me and mom, we had a much simpler home. She'd go to work as an accountant at the local bank. She'd pick me up from school, and we'd go to our usual restaurant, Delia's, for a quick lunch while she answered emails, and then we were off home to cook dinner and talk by the fire; I'd play her a few notes or a new song I'd learned, and we'd head to bed once the clock struck nine. To be up again by 5:30 AM to rinse and repeat. It was by that fire she'd encourage me to stand up to the bullies, to take charge of my wolf, and call her to help me when I was distressed. But try as I might, she was as quiet as a graveyard and not stirred one bit by my situation. I think that was also a source of disappointment for her. My wolf didn't show itself when I was nine, ten, eleven, till sixteen when young pups were tapping into their wolves and transforming before the age of six. I was truly an aberration. She had a beautiful wolf, with hair as dark as midnight and haunting green eyes she was enchanting. Father's was red with grey eyes and huge. I'd seen both when they changed to attend the full moon and solstice events-leaving me home with Luna Opal, an old and wise woman who couldn't join the festivities anymore. She was almost ninety years old and loved to tease me.

Being the butt of jokes by wolves bigger than me was tough, and the fact I was a loner made it even worse. It was pretty basic, really; they'd corner me at my table in the cafeteria, talk smack, push my food around a bit, call me Franky, flash their wolf eyes at me, snap their teeth and claws to frighten me, crack loud vulgar jokes about how nobody wants me, and leave. I'd always hear an echo of laughter from the rest of the school, and I'd get up and leave. Rinse and repeat. It was on one of the usual days that I'd left to wander around school till the break was over. With my hoodie drawn up and my shoulders slouched, I didn't notice I was being followed. Once I reached the front school steps and took a seat, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a young girl with tan skin, striking blue eyes, and straight brown hair. She was slightly taller than me, so I guessed around 5'5". Her head cocked to the side as she regarded with a curious look. "Can I help you?" I whispered. She didn't utter a word, just reached for the lunch pack she was holding that I just noticed and pulled out two huge beef sandwiches wrapped in clear film. She stretches her hand and offers me one. "Oh no, I couldn't," I say, scooting back a little. She proceeds to dump the sandwich on my lap and then climbs down the steps to where I'm seated. She plops down, opens hers, and begins to eat. I tentatively reach for mine and unwrap it; the yummy smell of well-seasoned meat and toasted bread hits me, and my mouth waters. I take a bite, and it's heavenly. I look at her and smile, "Thanks." She smiles as well, and we sit in silence and munch away. I made a friend that day, and every day after that was bearable; the bullies left me alone mainly because Ally was a Savont, one of the richest packs in Rheode with government affiliations. Her father was the Beta of their pack, so that gave her a high status in the werewolf community. A lot of people wondered why she would hang out with someone like me, but it turns out Ally's just as quiet as I am and curious; she rarely talks, but when she does, it's in a soft, calm voice with a bit of steel behind it, so you know she means business. We bonded as friends and pseudo-packmates. Werewolves form bonds/friendships with other werewolves regardless of the pack and form their close-knit group. The bullies did that as well; joy.