2 1

Andromeda's story didn't start out normal; I didn't let it.

At three-hours old, she was found by a hunter in the woods that completely entrap Emphine, Minnesota.

Despite the freshly fallen snow and the cold, the sparingly swaddled infant had seemingly just spawned, as no tracks other than the hunter's could be found. Placed above the snow beside her was a golden envelope, sealed with silver wax and a symbol that the people of Emphine couldn't recognize.

Inside the miraculously-dry envelope was a note. All it said, in looping, picturesque cursive was this:

Keep close watch; this one is extraordinary.

Seeing no better option, the mysterious young girl was taken in by the hunter. By the time of her first birthday, he had died, though; and she was sent to bounce around the town, to live with anyone willing to take her in.

Her childhood was spent being the outcast of the hollow, as the brown-haired and gray-eyed villagers thought her sparkling golden eyes and charcoal hair were a mark of the demon Bekohan.

She was the first outsider to the forgotten hollow in over a hundred years, so it's citizens were naturally unwelcoming. The adults stared and whispered cruel rumors—behavior that was soon picked up and repeated by their children.

Some way or another, Andromeda didn't really mind. She acknowledged her difference; though not it's extent.

That was, until the day a boy of sixty-two seasons provoked her, a young girl of only thirty-six seasons, into a fight.

Unbeknownst to them, I had watched from above as the small girl struck him in the chest with an open palm. He was sent flying across the plaza, much to my satisfaction.

She is destined for greatness, I thought, this might be interesting.

/

Thrill, Andromeda wondered, Is that what keeps him going? Fear? Pride?

I suppose I'll never know, she thought.

A particularly annoying wolf, who had been trying to tear her throat from her body, growled.

Within a blink, her power surged through her. Instinct clouded over her. Her eyes darkened and a smirk formed on her otherwise misleadingly gentle face.

Without a second thought, she lunged at him, grabbing him by the scruff of his thickly pelted neck. She kicked his legs away from her in one swift motion, rotating the large wolf so his claws were facing the opposite direction, rendering him harmless.

However unlikely it may seem, Andromeda had a very strong respect for the nature and fragile order of the forest. The way it chirped and rustled, every piece interdependent was one reason she had left Emphine twenty-and-some seasons ago.

Another was this: her boredom of their unoriginality. When she had noticed the one thing the citizens feared, she found her escape.

The forest.

As any young girl would, she grew addicted to the danger of the trees, and the villager's fear of the dense evergreens simply amplified her fascination.

Or was it fate? The pull of time against every fiber of her being? Her nature infecting her rationality?

The being before her was not included in such respect. He was a werewolf—a wolf-man of sorts, whose current confidence she deemed unacceptable.

She, once again, had gotten the threat into a vulnerable position. She relished in the power of being able to end his life with only a quick movement that would certainly be followed by a satisfying crack.

As her hands were about to take the life out of yet another wolf, she noticed the desperation behind his dark blue eyes. She displeasedly released him, sighed, and watched him as he turned, white-tipped tail between his legs as he fled.

Besides, she convinced, I am not in the mood for dirtying my hands unnecessarily.

She turned to return to the 'home' she had made for herself. To say it was modest, I would have to imagine it had walls or a floor, or that it wasn't a tree with some ragged bedding perched above the high split of its sturdy oak trunk.

Andromeda barely just caught sight of a subtle shimmer from her peripheral vision. A sight she would forever recognize, as the pain from her first encounter with this seemed to etch itself into her mind. An arrow.

At her full speed, she sprinted to action, ready to attack or defend.

Much to her surprise, the weapon's wielder was actually defending herself against a rouge attacker. The young girl—no more than sixty seasons—had the weapon in hand, fully drawn, but her hand shook wildly. Any shot she cast would not be produced with enough accuracy to harm her attacker. As swiftly as Andromeda could, she snatched the bow from the girl, shot the scraggly wolf, then dropped it, running towards him to snap the werewolf's neck.

Exhaling with a loud sigh, she turned to the girl.

She was one Andromeda recognized as Belina, the future Beta of the Blue Lake pack.

"Belina," raven-haired Andromeda said monotonously, "Long time no see."

"I'm sorry, I don't recognize you..." Belina, the girl, trailed off in thought.

The woman's shimmering black hair fluttered when she shrugged, "It was probably a decade ago. I noticed some activity in the woods, and when I went to investigate, your mother was dead and the rogue wolves had nearly gotten to you as well before I killed them."

Belinda's eyes were emotionless when she spoke, "Do you mean to tell me it wasn't the Alpha who killed my mother's murderer? And she was killed by rogues, and not a huntress?"

Her striking golden eyes crinkled as she laughed, "I'm sure you were. Alphas care only of reputation, overlooking fact."

"But then, who is--"

"The Human in the Woods? That's what your Alpha calls me, isn't it?" The mischievous, arrogant grin on Andromeda's face grew.

"Oh..." Belina trailed off as she looked down, squinting slightly.