Pack 1- Arabian Wolf

A lucid dream of a classroom of smiling children played like an old film. Children, who pranced around a school playground with no fear of the world. The voice of a woman calls out to them. They settle down on a rainbow print carpet in front of her. She held a brown leathered book in hand and announced a story time. They fell silent as she began to read to them, "The Legend of the Blue Wolf" as her voice simmers in the back of her head.

A hollering sound erupts against her ear. The sound came from her phone, on the small wooden table and through puffy eyes she reach for it. Her head nuzzled soundly in her pillow she gripped onto something and shook it off. Looking up she jolts straight up to the crashing sound of the lamp breaking against the door in front of her. She flops her head back down and groans, exasperated. The weekend nights of watching fantasy films till morning hours were her speciality and always seemed to bite back come the weekdays.

"Another one," she says in throaty morning voice. She was not shook at own her strength, but rather peeved that she would have to replace another bedside lamp. It was rounding up to the third for the week. "Where- where's my alarm?" she pondered will scrolling through squinted eyes on her phone. "Chayton," she concluded was the culprit from recognizing the childish behaviour of twenty-six year old brother. He always found ways to prank and tease his little sister, and setting her school alarm to the sound of him screaming at the top of his lungs was just another one of them.

She clicks the side of her wiPhone, the wallpaper of a vampire and wolf couple fades to black, but forcibly revived after noticing the time. It's eleven pm in the morning, and she was late for school. She was uncertain whether to blame her brother for another elusive prank or herself for being so comfortable at this hour on a Monday although fairly certain episodes of Dracula's bride was the reason. Her school was an hour on foot, and faster by catching the bus. She preferred to be late than staying home with my dorky older brother and pensive mother.

In a rush, she dressed herself in a Winter Parks' uniform, tossed her backpack over her shoulder and headed out of the house with a lime in my mouth. Odd for sure, limes where a family favourite. Her father had made passing jokes at times on how apples would rot your teeth and limes were the way to go. Outside her home, the school's deviant happens to be late as well and though fairly certain he was not one to care for tarnishing his 'school attendance record'. To her convenience she was acquainted with said delinquent.

Adriel Cunningham hoots profusely, forcing her to run after his car. He breaks, and her pace forcibly cut off as she's lightly knocked against the side of the car.

"Asshole!" she exclaims while throwing her bag in the backseat of his black dropped mustang. The crimson highlights meshed in his black hair complemented his olive tanned complexion. The two circular black piercing in his ears and silver lip-ring in the middle of his plump pink lips were the kryptonite of all female Winter Parks Private High school. He had the aesthetic of hot the Bad boy or player type, though his personality was far from it. Stoic or abrasive she was still uncertain after all these years.

The Winter Parks' uniform for female students was a black- pleated skirt, white long sleeve shirt, lace up shoes and black stockings. Her stockings that now have a small rip on her knee.

.

"Well, hello to you too" Adriel says, popping open the front seat door of his car.

She gets in and fiddles with my finger on the pink bruise on the knee. Before starting the car, he searches the back of my seat and hands me a roll of black coloured bandage.

"You know that hu-," he cuts her off and tosses the bandage roll on her lap.

"Here, sorry about that" he turns away and faces forward.

She wraps the bandage around her knee, and it camouflages with the stockings. "Why do you even have these?" she asks quizzically while playing with it.

"I just do" he answers blankly, and she chooses to not press any further. The drive didn't take as long, none of the usual traffic around town, and just as they were entering the school's driveway. A radio transmission goes off. A man's crisp voice tunes in, with static frequency scratches interrupting it.

"Hastily, we promptly call for all unregistered werewolves to turn themselves in. The government has issued that if any werewolves without legal permission for existence will be taken into the necessary authority's custody. Any person or rather 'thing' who puts up a struggle will be dealt with by sedation or permanent execution at once," the man ends the report, and I query Adriel about it.

"Man, people who are in the entertainment industry sure do go to great lengths, right?" He stares at her without giving a response. Before she can ask whether he believes it or not, he drives on the school grounds and parks the car.

One of the students near the window peeks at them and most definitely informs a teacher. An elderly woman on the fourth floor building opens the window and yells. "Hey! Youngers, how dare you at this hour?" a rhetorical question, and the time she's referring to is already five periods into the day. Luckily for them, the classroom had been far too high up for her to see into the car. She and Adriel decided to wait out the bell in the car rather than risk any facial recognition.

The bell went off for lunch break and to their relief, they would blend in with the other students for the rest of the day.

Adriel left for the school's sports field, not necessarily sure where he was going, but certain that he wouldn't answer if she asked either way.

She slung her bag pack over the shoulder, heading for her locker and walking through the outside corridor. She catch's everyone's attention as she walks past them. "Hadn't seen her all morning," a girl says with a peeved eye roll. Another boy adds, "Would still love to smash that!" and eyeing me up and down and now she rolled her eyes.

Never a dull moment with the schools, ice- princess. She never took it as a complement or honour, it just meant unnecessary attention was on her.

She was a 'tall girl' for most guys, a height of one eight-one centimetres is somewhat of a deal breaker for them. Not that she cared for it. Her midnight black hair, ghostly pale skin, and underweight body mass was either envied upon or shamed for it. She thought, to her disappointment that yearly attendance of winning the schools food eating contests would make up for it. Clearly, only yielding for 'shamming weapons' to destroy her school's reputation. She made her way past all the stares, but just added to her irritation of how much people care for high school.

"Ugh! It's not like any of this will matter" she slams a palm against the metal of her locker.

"My, who got your panties in a knot?" Tristan, a Welsh exchange student, sarcastically questions.

"People are annoying!" she yell in his face.

"I know!" He giggles wide-eyed and clearly startled.

"I'm annoying too" she adds, in an apologetic tone.

Tristan had been a really good friend for her, since he transferred to Winter Parks and in the last years of high school for the both. A much-needed one, she noted. Her school life had been… stressful. The fact that Tristan was willingly able to get to know her as a person, was a sort of life raft among the humiliating years the education system. Another point, which added to the union was that he preferred woman who are far older than either of them.

She stuff her bag with books, and an announcement goes off on the small television in each corner. Everyone in the hallways froze to the horror scene that played before them.

A woman arching her back appallingly, screech's like an owl and ripping away at what used to be an office outfit. Her nails grew sharp like pointed daggers. She ripped at her own flesh, some students turned away in discomfort. Her ripping revealed brown fur. After what seemed like five minutes, though felt longer. She stood, arms hung at her side, head up towards the sky and motionless. The side of her face, of what could see, was not covered in fur. The rest of her body had fluffy brown and white fur. Her legs were like hind legs of a dog, no wolf.

She recognized the woman's body structure as an Arabian wolf, and the news reporter that pulled her out of our trance confirmed this.

"You have publicly witnessed a semi- transformation of an Arabian werewolf. The government has informed us that nearing the first pure full moon in a thousand decades. The were'nation will be completing their full werewolf transformations this full moon," a woman reporter states professionally but slightly shaken up. Understandable, of course.

She went on to say that any werewolves discovered transforming, are to be dealt with immediately similar to radio's reporting. As she stated this, a sniper had taken a shot to the women's head, and she drops down, cutting the screen to black and turning off.

All students, clearly shaken up, Tristan and I stare as they scramble home. A triple horned beeped in case of emergencies goes off. An announcement that all students and staff need to vacate the premises. A slight annoyance of having to venture back have to go back now, after just getting here, is interrupted by the conversation of two freshman boys.

"I searched it up on the dark web," one boy started off

"Why were you on the dark web?" and the other questioned

"It doesn't matter!" he yelled and continued, "I searched it up and people have been reporting specific symptoms of people who are potential werewolves," he says

"I mean think about, glow in the dark green eyes, constant dehydration, huge appetite, killer instincts, speed…" he seems to carry on, but her mind drifts off, as she walks away.

Most students have left already, the halls empty, and she strides towards the exit. She takes note of herself and the things she put off as puberty. Approaching closer to the large door and pausing at the sight of her reflection from a glass trophy case. The sun fades in the background by clouds and she stares back at the brown eyes before her that glimmers, a tint of acidic green illuminates. She turns on my reflection and walks out the door.

"I, Mingan Alcaster may be a werewolf," grasping at her hands in her hair, she whispers and her voice carries off with the fresh Autum's breeze.