The Werewolf(First half)

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The Werewolf

The werewolf is a beast without reasoning, friendship or love.
It knows how to kill, to destroy.
Yet it knows no hatred.







To Start a Story
To start a story is to start many lives, the lives of the characters you place in that story. They live lives of their own when your story is over. You create a world of words.

A howl that sounded like the wolf that howled it was being was being turned out of its very body ravaged the night. The wolf was a pure black with swirling shades of black racing round his body. That wolf was known to his pack as Mallother, the swirling things were evil spirits possessing him. His howl said of his new name, Malice. His name meant evil and malicious, of evil deeds and hatred. On that mountain side, a calm, kind pup grown into a killer werewolf who’s only thought was hatred and death. He left a trail of destruction and despair wherever he went. His normally brown sweet eyes turned red with hatred, his coat was blacker than black. He was pure evil.“Do you wish me to continue,” the great grey wolf asked the pups surrounding her.
“Yes, please Storm,” they pleaded the old grey wolf Storm Bringer.
“Okay, as you wish,” she told them.

The werewolf ravaged the land for months. No pack was safe in their dens because of this no pups were let out to play in the sunshine. The wolves were afraid of this abnormity. This beast of their own kind .Then one blessed day, it disappeared nobody knew where it went.
Deep in an unknown forest a beast lurked. Its blood hungry eyes looking for prey.
All the wolves howled to a full moon that night in celebration of the supposed death of the werewolf. Unknown to the, the werewolf lived. Waiting and growing in strength. One day it killed a passing human. That human became a werewolf on the night of the full moon. That wolf Mallother was the first werewolf.

One of the pups was shivering with terror. “What is wrong Armarry?” She asked solemnly. She knew that this story was frightening but it was important that all pups learnt it so that no wolf ever repeated the mistake Mallother had.
“Nothing,” he stammered.
“Okay then. Anyone else have something to say?” Storm asked them lightly.
“I do,” the cry was from the back of the pups in front of her. “You never told us how he became a werewolf.” The wolf pup told them.
She answered the pup easily. “He made an irreversible mistake, Malthor. That is what he did. He conversed with spirits.”

Howls in the Darkness
From deep in the night a howl split the silence like a wolf splits the belly of its prey open in one swift deadly movement.

For years the wolves lived in peace without a fear of Malice the werewolf. They didn’t know that he lived until a young pup wandered into the Forest of Mists and never returned. The Forest of Mists was a usual first hunting ground and that pup had left saying that he had seen a great first hunt fawn in a clearing just within the forest. His parents were pleased he had found the fawn himself but when he didn’t return the wolves loped into the forest to look for him. They came back raving about a huge black wolf with fangs as long their paws. Nobody believed them because they thought the werewolf was dead. They were very wrong.

Malice and his werewolves attacked that very evening. The attack was so fast that the wolves were caught by surprise. Since the pup had disappeared the wolves had been on alert but not alert enough. All of the wolves died except a young wolf know as Bringer of the Storm, Storm Bringer for short.

The pups looked at her with surprise. “Ahh, you didn’t know my namesake did you,” she asked although it was more a statement than a question.

Storm Bringer was a beautiful femme in Malice’s blood red eyes. Her silver grey coat shimmered in the moonlight, her pure white fangs deadly, she was a beauty. When Malice was still Mallother he had wanted her as his mate and he to be the alpha of a new pack of wolves. Even the werewolf had control of his body and his mind it had no control over his heart. That is why Storm Bringer was spared from a bloody death.

“I didn’t know that you were named after the werewolf’s mate, Storm,” Said a young wolf.
Storm growled. She was annoyed. Storm Bringer was not the werewolf’s mate. She was about to blurt out that Storm Bringer in the story was to die. Then she stopped herself and let the young wolf believe what he had said.

To all the wolves far from the murdered pack She was a heroine. All wolves knew Storm Bringer as She. They didn’t know that she was watched from the shadows by the werewolf.

By night disorientated howls shattered the darkness. By day mobs of crows feasting on the carcasses of wolves, the crows drew the wolves to the murdering ground. The werewolves had struck again. Like last time it was a full moon and wolves would have been celebrating the arrival of the Wolf Moon. The werewolves’ leader would have to be a wolf to know that the wolves always celebrated the arrival of the wolf moon. Once again Bringer of the Storms had been there and she was the only wolf left standing on the slaughtering sight. Every time the werewolves attacked it was a full moon and every time Strom Bringer was found looking exhausted and scared. On the night of the next full moon she told the male wolf who had asked her why she had come and why none of her relatives were with her, “I am here because I want to be here and all my family is dead.”
He laughed and said, “I hope the werewolf doesn’t come tonight.”
“You’d better hope. He seems to attack every full moon.” She said sweetly. She wanted to forget what he had said to her about darkness blotting out the light. That love will cower in front of hate. That one day she would be his. She wanted to forget about that when Malice was about to kill her by biting her throat and shaking till she died she had seen in his red eyes the young male Mallother. Then he had howled and fled. She shook herself to rid herself of such thoughts. Forget it. It may have happened before but it won’t happen this time. She thought hopefully.
The young male looked at her carefully. “You are the wolf known as She. Am I right?” He asked quietly.
“Why, yes. I didn’t think that these parts had heard of me.” She told him while eying him icily.
He answered quickly, “News of werewolf attack survivors travel fast.”
“Why are you celebrating then, if you know the werewolf prowls tonight on the look out for wolves to join his pack?” She asked him.
“Because,” He said his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper, “We have set a trap for the werewolf. We have nine warrior packs with us, each with 20 wolves.”
She looked at him, “Are you one of the warriors?” She asked.
“Maybe,” he said shyly. She turned her tail and walked away after that. If he wasn’t going to be truthful she was going to leave him alone.


If you can please click this link https://horseisland.rpg-board.net/stories-f31/the-werewolf2nd-half-t2249.htm and reply to it with what you thought, it would help, thanks,
Misty