The thirteen year old Sinead stood looking up at the house. She was a tiny, blonde figure, completely dwarfed by the huge black house above her. It looked like something out of a horror film, and as she stood there, Sinead thought herself: yep, she was definitely going to be murdered tonight. Adjusting her rucksack on her back, she walked towards the front door. The house stood alone in the forest, and looked like it had been abandoned for years: the windows were all boarded up and most of the left side was caved in. It looked even creepier in the black night and the pouring rain. She hesitated. The door looked like one knock would take it off its hinges. Holding her breath, Sinead knocked.
No answer. Sinead's shoulders dropped and her head tilted.
"Hello!" she yelled. No answer. She headed down to the nearest boarded up window and wrenched of one of the boards. She wriggled through the gap and straightened up inside, brushing her wet hair from her face. The inside was equally as sinister.
The staircase was completely useless with only a few steps even remaining. The sofa looked like it was home to many rats. She didn't want to know was inside the blackened fridge. Moving across the room, the floor boards creaked and the ceiling groaned ominously. Looking up she saw several gaps in the roof and she had to dodge patched where the rain was falling through.
There didn't seem to be anybody here. Sighing, Sinead turned to leave. She had almost reached the window when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she was frozen on the spot. Someone was watching her. Sniffing the air, she smelt blood, dirt and sweat. Slowly she turned around.
A huge, dark figure stood in a back door she hadn't noticed before. Sinead tried to sound as grown-up as possible, but failed to hide her high, girly voice.
"Hello?" she called. The figure didn't move or speak. Sinead stood her ground and tried to sound brave. "Hello?"
She jumped when there actually was a reply.
"Who are you?" The voice was low and rasping and sent chills through her tiny body.
"M-my name's Sinead. I was told to come here –"
Suddenly a massive hand pinned her up against the wall by her neck and her feet dangled hopelessly a foot above the floor. The man holding her there was huge. His face was monstrous and scarred. His eyes glowed in the dark and his teeth bared as he held her there.
"Who sent you here?" he demanded, "Who else knows about this place?"
"Please!" Sinead cried out. She could feel herself changing. Her teeth were lengthening and her nails grew sharp and black as she tried to prize his hand off her throat, "Please put me down!"
The man looked in surprise as Sinead's nails drew blood from his wrist and her eyes glowed yellow. He took his hand away and she fell to the floor gasping for air. He leant down his face inches from hers, smelling her and trying to figure her out.
Sinead gained control and her teeth and claws went back to normal.
"My mum sent me here," she said, trying to keep her ground as he stared animalistic at her, "She said I'd be looked after here."
"What?" now he really was confused, "Who's your mother?"
"Isabelle Matthews." Said Sinead, "She was a werewolf too, she died last full moon but, I think she must have known it was going to happen because the day before she told me about this place and how to find it."
The man stepped away, looking down at her with a strange expression. She waited for him to say anything but he didn't seem the most articulate.
"Did you know my Mum?" she asked, tentatively.
"A long time ago," he muttered, "How old are you?"
"Thirteen," said Sinead. She could see where this was going and it appeared he could to, because he backed away even further. Sinead got to her feet and slid her rucksack off onto the floor. There was a moment where they both stood and stared at each other. Then Sinead spoke.
"So… are you my Dad?"
The man nodded. "I think so."
They let that fact settle in the air for a moment.
"Look," the man regained his aggressive front, "I don't have time to look after some kid. I don't know why Isabelle sent you here."
"I don't need looking after!" she said, desperately, "Honestly I can look after myself! It's just…" she hesitated, "I don't have anywhere else to go."
He didn't say anything.
"I don't even know you're name." Sinead muttered.
A twisted smile crawled across his face.
"Fenrir Greyback." He said. Sinead wasn't surprised. This was something she'd kind of been guessing since she arrived. From everything she'd heard about Greyback, she couldn't understand why here Mum had sent her here. This guy was dangerous and she was thirteen years old. For a moment she considered running for it, but she didn't really have any other options.
"What was that, by the way?" Greyback asked.
Sinead faltered. "What was what?"
"That! When I grabbed you. With the eyes and the teeth."
"Oh that! That was…" she didn't know how to explain it, "I've always been able to do that," she shrugged, "You know, when I get upset or angry or when someone holds me against a wall by my throat…"
"Who bit you?"
"No one bit me," she said, simply, "I was born a werewolf."
Greyback stared at her. She could practically see the cogs ticking in his brain.
"You know," he said slowly, "Maybe I could use you."
Sinead took a step forward.
"Really?" she said, excitedly.
"Yeah," he said, with a vicious smile, "Obviously you'll be with the pack most of the time but," he put a hand on her shoulder, "I think you could have you're uses."
