The cold wind blew through my fur. It was a heavenly feeling, yet even the joy of it had to be taken away from me. It was nearing spring, so I would have to travel back north to my home and school.

According to my friends, I'm in a winter camp, up in the southern mountains. But instead, I'm running free with my family deep in the woods. It's like heaven and hell at the same time. From nearly getting spotted while shifting to nearly being shot, our family has done it all this winter.

Don't ask who we are, because I will tell you now. We are the wolves. And we are the Terries at the same time. We aren't werewolves. We are humans born with wolf blood. We aren't like those myths of lycanthropes, we are a completely different group of people (wolves).

Now let me take you back to where it all began. When I found out what I was. When my life was suddenly not up to me. It was last summer, when I was only starting tenth grade in Westmonton, England.

I open the door of the car and pull out my umbrella. I look up to find a huge grey blob of puffy stuff, commonly known as clouds. As I did, I realized it was a big mistake. I literally just got soaked since I moved my umbrella from on top of my to beside me.

"Lovely." I said to myself.

"Hurry hon, don't dolly about over there! Your gonna get soaked!" She paused and looked at me, "you k:now what? Never mind. Looks like you needed a bath anyway."

Sometimes my mom was a joy to have around me but now she was just poking my side like I was sitting in her ice cream or something.

And my dad. Don't even get me started. You wouldn't want to know.

"Oi! Yo yo yo! Come here ya wicked dude!"

Ok, so he said that. Just peachy... Hopefully my first day at school won't be traumatized by my father.

I don't blame him for trying to be cool and trying to make me feel myself since my best friend used to be exactly the same. She died and It completely broke my heart. I can't even talk about it. Anyway, that's why he's doing all this. I appreciate it but I really find it strange sitting in a cafe and having your father talk loudly and like a teenage girl. Something like this,

'OMG! Girl did ya hear 'bout Tomas! He's cheating on ya girl!' Plus this strange wink I can't even explain. It looks like someone shoved chilli up his nose and he's about to sneeze out one nostril. I'm telling you, it's freaky.

Anyway, last week when we were still in England, my mom told me she had a big surprise for me. At first, I thought she was implying that she finally got me phone after almost five years of constant nagging. But no. I found that she was talking about moving to Canada. Of all places, they had to pick Canada.

I didn't understand their thinking at all. But even through all my arguments that it wasn't going to happen, they still made me come.

And now, I was staring at this strange house. It reminded me of a doll house except it was about half the size.

"Mom. It's TINY!" I argued.

"I know it's not much April, but we'll settle in just fine."

I rolled my eyes without her seeing and muttered,

"I seriously doubt it."

I walked into the cold and damp building, and even through my arguments, I must admit it was pretty nice inside. Not counting the fact the AC was busted. I walked upstairs, I was pretty inquisitive about our new home.

I saw a room which was definitely theirs, it was all grey and had their creepy nature paintings of flowers and animals.

Then, I walked across the corridor to see my room. It was amazing. It was just what I wanted. How did they know? I never told them how I want my room to look like... Well, for all I know, I don't really care. I'm just happy it turned out this way.

Before I closed the door, I noticed I little picture of a wolf pack on my shelf. I knew this was a personal touch from dad. I knew he loved animals especially dogs. I decided not to bother with throwing it out or having a fit about it.

The next few days I was more and more eager to find out what sort of special thing would happen when I reached teenage-hood. Maybe I would become the tallest in class. Or maybe I would have a deep voice. I tried imitating one but ended up sounding very strange.

All of a sudden, I really wanted to go to bed. I felt like I ran a marathon, although I barely walked ten metres. It was probably all the stress and stuff. I didn't hold back. I just gave into the drowsiness... Soon enough, I was fast asleep.

My parents came into the room. They thought it was 'adorable' how I slept. I think it's just strange that they are interested in how I sleep.

"Oh look Grady, she looks so peaceful, let's not wake her. She best sleep now... We'll tell her when she's ready."

They then quietly stepped out of the room and went on downstairs.

My fathers face was confused.

"Why don't we just tell her now? I was told years earlier than her."

"Well, Grady, that's not up to us. She obviously wasn't ready 'years ago' as you say. So next week must be the right time."

They both stood beside the window, hand in hand, staring out. As if they were searching for something but their eyes just wouldn't set on it. They both sighed and silently hoped all would be well...

I woke up and it was bright and early on Monday morning. Just days away from my birthday, finally I would experience teenage-hood.

I brushed my chestnut hair and tied it back in a neat pony tail. I took my uniform into my hands and sighed,

"Looks like I'll have to make quite an impression at school."

I threw off my Pyjamas in a rush and propped on my uniform. It was exactly the right size. Well, it was quite snug in my middle but it was still good enough. It smelt of daisies and soap. Just soap. My mom likes this washing powder, and now I know why. When I breathed in one huge gulp of flower-air I go all dizzy and fall flat on my butt. I thought, Nice, I've got to hand it to you. That was truly peachy, the way you bruised your butt. I give that one five stars.

As I headed downstairs, I thought about what had happened yesterday, and what my parents had said, not knowing I was listening. What had they meant by telling (or not) me this. I was so hazed as I was coming down the stairs, my thoughts spiralling, that I nearly tripped over a couple of feet of stairs. When I came down, my parents regarded me as if I was drunk, just hobbling down the flight of stairs, nearly falling as I did.