Five year old me watched as her father bought a silver necklace. It was beautiful, really. A single heart pendant hung from the thin chain. An azure jewel stood out from the middle of the heart.

I clutched my father's pant leg and by the frustrated look on his face I could tell he wanted to kick me away. The sales man took his expression the bad way and lowered the price of the necklace in hopes of selling it but my father was already sold. He bought the necklace and watched anxiously as the sales man wrapped it up carefully. Then we left.

I clumsily crawled into the back of my father's green pick-up. My father, the opposite of graceful, climbed into the driver's seat. He greedily ripped the velvet box open and tore the necklace from its place. It didn't matter how much the piece cost, he stared at it like it was his salvation. He looked more proud at that necklace than he had ever looked at me.

Leaned back in his seat he clasped the piece of jewelry around my neck. I at once felt tired and sickly. I finally understood why he bought the horribly beautiful thing. He would rather me be a sickly child than deal with my condition. My father looked sternly at me, "You never take that off! Understand?" He said, I just stared back and that was a mistake. He angrily gripped my small wrist, "Understand?" He growled once more and I nodded frantically back. He let go of my wrist and started the rust bucket up. Fat silent tears ran down my cheeks. The bruises didn't disappear for a week. I didn't take that necklace off for twelve years, not even for a second. I never shifted for another twelve years.

Shifters healed fast, unusually so. Bruises never had a chance to appear, we never got sick, paper cuts last for seconds before they disappear. The cut above my eye healed within five minutes of getting it. The blood that sealed my eye shut was still there. The knife in my side was a different story all together. It was made of silver. I would have to heal like any normal person... er dog. I wouldn't be able to shift until I was completely healed.

I would like to believe that we had no weakness at all, but we do. Silver. It was a bother, I couldn't wear half of the jewelry I came across. Bracelets, earrings, necklaces, watches, some belts, rings, you name it I couldn't wear it. With the silver in my side I would die, no second tries, I didn't have nine lives, I would be gone. Without the right help I was a dead dog.

A high pitched whine echoed followed by more. Whine after whine after whine echoed through my ears. Someone make it quiet I silently begged before I realized I was whining. Someone was mumbling near me, whispering useless comforts into my big ears.

"You'll be fine."

"It's okay, I'ma get you some help."

"Good dog. You're a good dog."

"You brave son of a bitch."

"Don't you dare die on me!"

The 'comforts' were starting to get violent.

"Where the fuck am I supposed to get a vet at one in the morning?"

The person's steps were jarring my wound causing me to yelp in pain. I snapped my eyes open to glare at the culprit. Rich.

"Oh shit! Sorry! I'm going crazy. Did a dog just glare at me?"

"Jarvis!"

Jarvis? Who was Jarvis? I didn't smell anyone new. I closed my eyes again.

"Yes sir?"

"I need a vet, now!"

I shuddered at the second mention of a vet. I was half dog after all I share some fears.

"Five blocks north, sir. All Regional Vet Clinic."

There was silence and Rich's feet changed direction and moved faster. I clenched my sharp teeth holding back a whimper. The world faded once again.

I babbled incoherent words to my stuffed toys that were in the middle of an exciting fight to the death. Who would win the rights to the chocolate chip cookie sitting to the right? Would it be my plush wolf named Willie or my so cleverly named snow tiger Tigey? I clashed the wolf on top of the tiger and made the tiger 'bite' the wolf's ear.

My parents sat on the leather couch one cheering for Willie and the other for Tigey. My tiger and wolf pounced at each other and tumbled to the floor. Willie was the victor! I felt an excited tingle in my stomach, I ignored it and stood up and cheered the only way a three year old could. Overly excited. My parents were staring at me with a mix of horror, amazement, wonder, and question.

I stared back at my parents. Why wasn't daddy standing and cheering for his victory? He was cheering for Willie. Where was my lovely victory hug? Why wasn't mom looking for losers comfort? I patted at my pajamas looking for an offending paint splatter or drop of ketchup and found nothing. Maybe I had something in my hair, I brought my hands to my head and stopped short when they touched something soft.

It felt like paint brush tips. I ran my fingers down the sides and reached my head. They were attached to my head. I ran to the bathroom and pulled a stool up the sink so I could see my reflection. I had ears. Not regular human ears, soft, triangular, puppy ears. I stared at my ears in wonderment and awe. I ran back to my parents screaming, "I HAVE EARS!"

My parents looked at each other chuckling. "Where's my victory hug sweetheart?" I jumped on to my father's lap giving him my biggest hug ever. He dug his fingers through my hair and over my ears as though to check if they were real. He mumbled something I didn't catch.

"Where's my loser's hug? You didn't forget about me? Did you Matty?"

I gasped in horror, "NO! I would never forget about you mommy!" Now perched on my mommy's lap I smothered her cheek with kisses.

"Well doesn't Tigey have to join this hug?" I scrambled off her lap and scooped Willie, Tigey and the chocolate chip cookie before joining a group hug with my parents.

My parents shared a look of worry over their heads and put all their might into the hug. Perhaps everything will be okay.

"You want some cookie?"

AN

Not nearly as long or not nearly as awesome,

but we did get to see some of her past,

the next chapter will be longer, I promise.

next week then,

BYE!