The town of Duhrnam is located on the edge of the Dark Forest. Few people know or care about our little town or its given name. They only know the legends that spring from here, those of which our houses are built on stilts and up in the trees. Those that tell of wells that lead to the purest water in the land.

And those that tell that of our curse.

The curse of the Wolf.

And these same people have misconceptions about the Wolf as well. The Wolf can step on holy ground. Nor cross nor rosary will save you if the beast has a mind to kill you. And its bite kills, unless it decides to leave you alive, and pass its curse on to you. A man bitten is a man dead, whether he be a meal for the Wolf, or he is killed by his brothers from town, in an effort to control the curse. The only protection against the Wolf is silver; cutting it with any normal sword will return it to its human form. The times of birth are marred by sadness, and death is welcomed like an old, lost friend, an end to the constant worry and fear that the wolf will appear, and eat out your heart.

The Wolf has been hunting the people of this town for as long as I can remember.

And now it's hunting me.

The mist was thick, as always, and the single beacon of light was snuffed out, plunging me into darkness. And this is when the hysteria set in. I could hear it panting wetly behind me. Foul breath blasted up my nose, and the soft tick tacking of nails echoing all around was unnerving. Air whooshed past me; I spun, but saw nothing. Breathing heavily, I turned, and was met with the golden eyes of my death.

"GAHHH!" I wrestled out of the hold of my blankets, damp hair everywhere. In my half slumberous state, I felt as if it were ropes, tying me down it the bed and the memories it contained. But the cool night air refreshed my feverish skin, and the chirping of the crickets allowed me to forget the snarling of the Wolf. I had been having the same dream for weeks now, and Grams always said that if a dream is dreamt more than once, it is bound to come true. So basically, my dream meant I was going to die.

Great.

I mean, I could always ask her what it meant, but then she'd get worried, and Grams had enough to deal with as it was. The Wolf was getting more active, and the Elders were debating on what to do about it. Grams was my best friend, she was smart, and funny, and not stuck up like most of the other Elders in the village. I guess that's why she lives so high up in the trees. Most people lived in the oaks that were common in the forest, but Grams had made her home high up in a red oak tree. She said that had special properties to ward away evil and misfortune. I don't know if it's true, but I always feel calmer when I visit Grams. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon, its golden rays chasing the dark tendrils of night away. It also brought the first wave of people. I held my breath, there were no screams, which meant no attacks had happened during the night, and that no one had died. I exhaled in relief. I knew life and death were an inevitable part of life, but I just wished the deaths around here weren't quite so gruesome. Kicking the covers off my legs, I grabbed my clothes and ran to the stream, yelling as the cold bit away the last of sleep. Hair wet with stream water, it soaked into the back of my gown. I left the back of it unlaced, running to Grams so she could do it for me. As I reached Grams' red oak, I heard a twig crack behind me. Another misconception about werewolves, they could roam during the day, and did not need a full moon to change. The forest, however, still went deathly still. Tensing up, I waited. Then I heard the jay bird scream, and I climbed the stairs the Grams front door. I knocked, and Grams', brown, weathered face appeared before mine in an instant. I hugged her, and inhaled the scents of the forest.

"Hey Grams!"

"Hello J.J. dear. Need me to lace you up again?"

"Yes ma'am. Did you hear the wolf again?"

I always asked Grams this question. Everyone in town knew she lived the closest to the Wolf's den, which is why for year several town members accused her of being the Wolf. It would have still continued had she not cut her wrist with a piece of silver.

"Uff!" I exclaimed as Grams tightened those accursed laces.

"I know dear, and the pity is, you don't need them. Ah well."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence until Grams finished, and I began the task of untangling my mane of hair. Thick and stick straight, it hung heavily to my waist. Grams had said never to cut it, because a beauty like it was seen once in a life time, and that a beauty like it shouldn't be wasted. As my dark, cinnamon toned hand dragged a brush though my hair, I sighed. The sun was almost completely up, and I had chores that needed to get done. I loved being here with Grams, surrounded by the forest and its calm certainty. It was the polar opposite of my home in the southern part of town, where I was eternally tripping over my siblings or my drunken father. It was as quiet as my home was loud, with Mother always berating me to be better, and it was better than the whip. I cringed away from the thought of the stinging pain. Gram's place was my escape. I set the brush down and retrieved my bucket. Grams looked sad to see my go, but she knew.

"Bye Grams!" I called over my shoulder as I raced out of the door. "I'll be back later!"

"Alright J.J, I'll be here. If not, on the knoll."

"Ok, Grams!"

I raced into the dark, water bucket squeaking noisily in my hand, adding to the music of the forest.