This actually has nothing to do with Final Fantasy at all. This is just a story that didn't made it to Fictionpress for some unknown reason(stupid account!). Anyway, this story here is 100 original. That means that all characters and places here are based on my imagination. Nothing else. If you want to, read this. If not, don't.

By the way, this is my firstserious story just to let you know. If it writes too amateurish, then i'll improve.

Wolf Child

It is said that when one's near death's door, it would usually be painless; Jonathan McKenzie soon realized that wasn't always correct.

As he lay in the bask of the crescent moon, moisture seeping in his clothes, he observed the scenery with a vision that was slowly fading to black around the edges.

"So it comes to this." he spat as he observed his murderer. All he could make out was the very distinctive leather gloves that clad his hands.

And those teeth…

"If you're going to finish me, then do so…"

A swift kick to the side interrupted his speech. Blood gushed from both his mouth and from the wound directly above his stomach. He grunted in agony as an indescribable pain shot through his entire body. The person in black just laughed at his handiwork. The laugh then turned into a snarl as he throttled him against a tree, teeth bared just inches away from his face.

"I don't give a shit you fucked upped dick." a rough voice said. "You're the typical epitome of a fallen king. You're so pathetic I could end your life just like that."

But then, it wouldn't be fun wouldn't it?" he grinned as he tightened his grip on Jonathan.

"Then do it." He could feel death slowly taking him. Whether he dies or not doesn't really matter now.

The person in black just smiled.

"Fine then. Any last words?"

"Yeah."

He lowered his head and started to think. He started to think about his son. He doesn't know about it yet. he thought with regret. Guess he'll find about it soon.

"Finished praying to your gods yet?"

Jonathan looked up. He saw the face of his killer one last time. He smiled one final smile.

"He'll get you."

The killer cocked a thick eyebrow.

"Who will?"

"My son."

The killer just laughed a cold laugh.

"That sounds like fun." he said, eyes glistening with bloodlust. "I hope he proves to be interesting."

But Jonathan McKenzie spoke no more.

A few hundred miles away in Deadwood, Tom McKenzie woke up from a nightmare.

Tom woke up, eyes wide open in the dark of his room. Breathing hard, he slowly rubbed his eyes as he got up from his bed.

"It's that dream again." he thought as he walked over to the window.

He could see the small village of Deadwood spread out like a painting; small, warm and country-like. With the usual dark, brooding forest at the end of it. Right now the sun was slowly rising over the mountains, giving it a soft, delicate touch of red and yellow.

A year back when tom moved to Deadwood, he particularly liked that scene. It gave him a sense of wonder. A sense of peace.

But after when he moved in with his parents, he started to have weird dreams.

Dreams of his dad being killed.

The dreams occurred every night, each time the very same thing happening; his father would be strolling in the woods, taking his usual nightly strolls. Then, all of a sudden, a shot echoed throughout the dark woods. The next thing he knew, his dad fell to the floor, a seeping bullet hole boring through his stomach. A person in dark then walked up to him, and after staring at the body for a few minutes, would throttle him against a large oak tree.

But the dream went as far as that.

Nothing more.

Tom sat on his bed, and mused over the dream he experienced. Well…can't say that was a sweet dream, that's for sure, he thought as he got himself changed.

"But enough about that…side's, I'm already late for work as it is"

As he entered the living room, he saw his mom, wide awake. She was clutching the morning paper with trembling hands. Tears ran slowly down her reddening eyes as she very slowly turned to see her son. Tom suddenly developed a very sickening thought as to think why his mother would be doing out so early on a Sunday morning.

"Mom," Tom said as he approached his mother. "What's the matter?"

She didn't say anything. There wasn't any need to say anything. She just put the paper down on the table, and put her face in her hands.

He picked up the paper as if the paper contained a deadly disease, and read the front page.

Local author murdered in woods. Murderer unknown.

It took Tom two minutes to register what happened. And after the minutes had passed, an anger surged within him. It consumed his soul and raged like the fiery furnace of hell itself. He felt his whole body shake as to comprehend with the situation.

"Who would do such a thing to dad?" Tom said sliently, trying his best to count up to ten in his mind. "I already told you mom, not to let that old fucking geezer walk in the…"

"Don't speak ill of the dead!"

Mrs McKenzie stood up, ancient fury in her green eyes. She walked up to Tom, and gave him a slap.

Tom was taken aback by the slap. Almost immediately, all of the anger that was welling up within, just disappeared.

"Mom..."

"He's still your father," she said softly, stroking his cheek. "At least, let's say afew words for him."

"But mom,"

"Just do it."

"……..ok."

Tom thought about his dad. Memories of his dad beating him suddenly came back to him. It came flooding back like a tidal wave of memories, washing over and repeating itself over again and again. His dad beating him, for coming home late on his school day. His dad beating him for stealing the petty cash.

It was all just a blur. A mixture of feelings soon came after. Sure, he thought to himself, I didn't have any good memories of dad when I was young…

"buthe's still……dad after all…" he said sadly. He could feel hot, salty tears running down his face. He could feel it overcoming him. This sudden feeling. It came slowly as first. Then it started to creep up his throat. Very slowly, the effects were starting to show; tears, red scrunched up face, furrowed eyebrows.

His mother put a hand on his shoulder. Let it out. She said. For dad.

And he cried.

He cried the way only a son could for his father. The feelings of anger and angst all came flowing out at once. And the tears kept on spilling out of his brown eyes.

His mother just let him cry.

"he doesn't know about it yet." Mrs McKenzie thought, worried features etched on her pale, ancient face. "I guess it's up to me to tell him."

"Tom. It's time I told you something important."

Outside the McKenzie's house, a storm was brewing. Black clouds hung overhead as thunder roared to make it's presence known. A harsh wind blew South from the mountains, giving the scenery a very grim and harsh look. The whole, sun kissed scene seemed to instantly change it's mood, almost as a chameleon changes it's colours. Greyish tones coloured everything, almost as if someone deliberately splashed grey paint on a beautiful painting.

A pair of boots crunched on the concrete pavement. Red, hellfire eyes observed the scenery with a combined look of nostalgia and disgust. Those eyes then rolled upwards to a certain house, no, only house on the hill.

"It's amazing that not much changes after many years." he thought with slight amusement. His leather clad hands twitched in anticipation of the hunt.

"But I have a job to do." he said as he towards the hill.

"Your father isn't really a writer…by day I mean." said Mrs McKenzie.

"What do you mean "by day"?" said Tom. But he somehow secretly knew the answer already.

"Do you still remember the time you were attacked by a pack of wolves in the forest?"

Tom unexpectedly moved his hand towards his forearm. He remembered the incident as if it was just yesterday.

"Who wouldn't?" he thought

"……..yeah." he said.

"That pack didn't just attack you just by coincidence." she said. "That pack was your father's."

There came a silence. For a few minutes during that silence, Tom actually considered the fact that his mom might actually be senile.

"But mom isn't the type who goes senile by this age." he murmured.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing." he said.

"Anyway, your father wanted to initiate you in the pack early. Said because to carry on the bloodline."

"I'll play along then." he thought. "What bloodline?" he said mockingly.

"The way you talk tells me that you don't believe me." She said. "I need you to believe me because what I'm about to tell you is the truth." she said, total conviction in her eyes.

"You are a werewolf."

Those words hit Tom like a battering ram; hard. He didn't really want to believe. Maybe his mom really had gone senile in the past few years.

But deep down he knew. He knew some sort of monster was breathing within. Breathing. Begging to be let loose in the world of the living.

But he still didn't believe.

"Mom," Tom said slowly. Are you sure about this?"

"I don't have to repeat myself." she said in a final tone. "All this is the truth and you know it."

Tom stared down at the floor. He didn't want to believe this. He didn't want to believe the fact that his dad might, just might, be a werewolf who somehow passed down his genes to his only son.

"If I really am a……" He couldn't bring himself to say it. "werewolf, why haven't I gone all fanged and fuzzy during full moons and stuff?"

"That's because you could control it." she said. "You were the only one in the family tree that could control the change and not go crazy at the same time."

He realized, in a weird but slowly believing way that it was true.

"But still." Tom said, rubbing his temples thoughtfully. "Who would want to kill dad?"

"I think I have a hunch as to who would." Mrs McKenzie blurted out suddenly.

The stranger continued walking, passing by the shop houses along the street. He stared upwards at the sky, realizing that it was getting dark soon.

"All the better." he thought with malice. He could slowly feel the Change taking over his entire body. It was slowly clawing at him, inch by inch.

"I can't wait," he thought in-between breaths. "To kill the son……of the Alpha Wolf!"

"It must be Josef." she mumbled.

"Who?" Tom questioned.

"Josef." "Josef Dolinovodno. Ex KGB captain. And also right now in charge of your father's pack."

"Huh. I thought dad was in charge?" he said.

"He used to be….until he met me." said Mrs McKenzie. She stood up, walked towards the window by the side, and stared out.

"When your father first met me he used to be…different." she said, emphasising the word different. "Kind, gentle, he struck me with his charms. When he found out I bore you, he said he was the happiest man on earth."

"He doesn't show much of it." Tom said angrily.

"He does care." she said, touching him on his leg. "It's just that he can't really express himself to you. He wanted you to have a firm foundation. Be strong and make wise decisions was what he said to you when you were born."

"Then why the hell does he keep beating me for all the simplest faults I've done?"

"It was his way of showing care. He secretly cared for you dearly. When he realised that his son might become a werewolf, he wanted you to control your powers." she said. "He didn't want you to turn into a monster like him." she said, tears welling slowly in her eyes.

"Mom…"

She wiped the tears out before continuing.

"When your dad had you, he immediately told all the members that he was quitting for good. And that he was leaving Josef in charge."

"Everyone thought that was a bad idea. 'said that he was too ambitious." Mrs McKenzie said. "Always thinking about new ideas of how the werewolves could overthrow the humans."

"But your dad said to give him a chance." she said. "Always had been the type to giving chances."

"And look where it landed him in." she concluded.

The stranger looked at the house facing him. He then fished out a piece of grubby looking paper.

"Number 32." he thought. He looked at the mailbox.

"The McKenzie's. Right on time." he said as he stared at the sky. It was already dark as a full moon peaked a tiny sliver from the clouds.

"So let me get this straight." said Tom. "Some crazy, ex-KGB werewolf is after me just because I'm the son of the alpha wolf?"

A nod of her head confirmed that.

Tom just sat down. He thought about what his mom had explained to him. Maybe I'm in a dream, he thought. Maybe it's those dreams that were so realistic that you think you are actually living in it. Yeah, he thought. Maybe that's true.

But a dream couldn't be a dream. To what Tom experienced next forcefully expelled all hopes that this could ever be a dream.

He closed his eyes as the Change took over him. He shook off his boots to reveal sharp yellow nails that were beginning to resemble the claws of an enormous wolf. He could feel the irresistible effect of the lunar orb as tiny hairs bristled all over his body. Canine fangs slid from his gums. His fingers started to curl into claws. His eyes turned from a hue of red to a dark cobalt. His spine twisted and contorted into something more primal and ancient. He noticed his skin turn from a pale white to a pitch dark colour of black. The lengths of his arms and legs lengthened to freakish proportions of a monster.

A moan escaped form his lips as his skull underwent a drastic metamorphosis. A canine snout protruded from his face. His brow sloped backward above fierce blue eyes. Tufted ears tapered to a point. Flattened nostrils flared above a mouthful of jagged incisors. Foam dripped from his wolfen jaws.

His senses expanded tremendously, the night coming alive with thousands of new scents and sounds. As the transformation neared it's completion, he felt an inner exhilaration. He stretched out his claws, revelling in his heightened strength and vitality. Succumbing to a primal impulse, he howled triumphantly at the moon.

Josef licked his massive jaws. He had only one thought on his mind.

"Now the hunt commences."

"What the hell was that?" Tom said, panic stricken with fear.

"You better make a move now Tom." Mrs McKenzie said as she showed him the back door. "He's already here."

"Josef?" Tom said.

"Don't ask the obvious." was all she said. "Go now. I'll hold him back."

"You can't, you'll get injured." said Tom. But he knew what she was going to say next.

"Don't worry." she said in a strangely lax voice. "I'll catch up with you in the forest later."

"Besides, I have some unfinished business to do with him." she said.

For a brief glimpse, Tom saw an expression of her mother that he never saw before. It was hard to see with the lack of light emitting from a small bulb in the kitchen but for a moment, he saw delight on his mother's face. It was as if she was stuck in a trance. It reminded him of those crazed barbarians going to a war, drunk with the lust for blood. It was as if she was going to enjoy the fight she couldn't possibly win.

"Go now." was the last words that Tom heard from his mother.

Tom didn't say anything. He didn't needed to.

And he ran.

Tom ran and ran until he couldn't possibly run anymore. His legs ached with weariness but he still pumped both legs to carry him.

"What the FUCK is going on?" he thought madly as he ducked at an incoming branch. "Is this all for real?"

"Why the hell am I running anyway?"

He stopped suddenly. He looked around to take the surroundings in. He was surrounded by large, looming birch trees. It seemed to cover the entire sky, swallowing it all up. Save one space in the centre. The darkness was slowly engulfing all of it, covering the scenery in it's pitch darkness. The pitch silent of the night, with the occasional hoot of an owl, made the scenario look like a cheap, horror show.

And just like clockwork, a sliver of light sliced through the darkness. Tom looked upwards towards the source of light, and laid his eyes on the moon.

It immediately had an intoxicating effect on him. It was as if he was drawn to it's pale, mystifying effect. It was as if he desired it.

A chilling howl interrupted his temporary trance.

"Ah shit." he cursed as he ran.

The large werewolf stepped into the forest's edge. Tilting his large head upwards, he caught wind of the prey.

"That way." it thought.

As it ran through the forest, it's mind recalled back at the house.

"That old bitch actually managed to put up quite a fight," he thought vindictively. "Too bad she kicked the bucket early."

"I hope the son proves to be more interesting." he thought as he ran, anticipating the fight that was to come.

"I can't take anymore of this."

Tom halted to a stop. He saw a large log and sat down. His white collar shirt, drenched with sweat, clung to his chest like ivy. His legs felt as if he just did a cross-country run.

"Make that two cross country's." he thought humourlessly.

But that humourless joke didn't knock out the fact of what he just did.

"That was really weird." he thought.

"Maybe I really am a…no. It can't be."

"Maybe I'm suffering from some sort of disease. Yeah that's right. Maybe I am suffering from a type of disease that makes me imagine that I am a……no. Can't say it."

"But you know it's true." a voice quietly said at the back of his mind. "All that stuff your mother said was true and you know it."

"Now there are voices in my head," he said loudly. "What have I got to lose?"

There was a noise. An almost silent sprint. It came from the void of darkness with an almost terrifying speed. And at the same time, he felt an inner desire. A desire that wasn't like any other.

A desire to kill.

Josef halted to a dead stop. He sniffed the air once again. His wolfen eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait a minute," he thought. "He's…"

A distorted grimace formed on the werewolf's massive jaws.

"This makes the hunt even more worth while." he thought as he continued his sprint.

The Change gripped Tom like a bolt of lighting. It came slowly at first, like a churning down in his stomach. Then a sharp pain throughout his body commenced the Change.

Tiny hairs bristled all over his body as his skin turned from a light tan to a dark brown. His eyes changed from brown to a golden colour of a wolf. Tom raised his hands to gaze upon enlarging yellow nails the size of steak knives.

"Holy shi…." he thought. Another burst of pain registered in his body before he could finish.

A painful moan escaped from his mouth as his body underwent a painful metamorphosis. Wet bone and muscle twisted underneath the skin, reverting to something more animalistic. His bones lengthened to massive proportions. Muscle expanded within seconds.

Bone and gristle cracked and contorted as Tom's skull underwent a drastic transformation. A wolfen snout pushed painfully out of his mouth. Large canines jutted out of his newly formed mouth. His hair grew long and formed into a widow's peak.

He suddenly heard a click in his head. It all made sense now.

"So this is how it's like." he mused, suddenly overwhelmed with an immense amount of bravery and courage.

"Bring it on you bastard. Let's see what you got." he thought, anger in his wolfen eyes.

"……that way."

The scent was fading. When anyone with the ability Changed, the scent wouldn't stand as strong as it originally was.

And Josef was loosing that scent.

Curling his claws in fury, he quickened his pace.

"He's got to be around here somewhere."

"Wait!"

The black werewolf halted behind a birch, body tense with anticipation. Trying to conceal himself within the shadows, he stood back from the light of the lunar disc.

Contrary to popular belief, werewolves still retained all of their human mentality. Josef knew that there might, just might, be something off in this situation. He encountered certain prey back in the days of old which were more than what met the eye.

He definitely wasn't taking any chances.

"His scent stops here." he thought, trying to think of some way to backstab the prey.

"But something's not right."

As if by instinct, he leaped to the side as a brown flash ripped through the birch he was just standing behind a few seconds ago. Bark and leaves fell as half the tree collapsed on the ground.

"Tch. I knew it."

A roar escaped his throat, signalling the fight. His vision began to cloud with the red of bloodlust. Yellow claws tense with the anticipation of the fight that is to come.

"That didn't work."

Tom wasn't expecting that sneak attack to pull off. He had a feeling that he was dealing with someone, or something with more experience.

"Maybe of that of a soldier."

He felt his body involuntarily carry him to the opening, as if being tugged by a invisible chain. A roar escaped the other wolf's throat suddenly. But Tom heard nothing. Only a thumping beat ringing in his ears. Foam dripped from his massive maw.

He felt his newly formed legs move. Slowly at first, then into a sprint. His jaw formed into a snarl, showing jagged canines dripping with venom. His yellow nails, hard and firm with adrenaline, splayed opened for the kill.

He swung his arm, fully intent on hitting the target. Josef side stepped casually to the side, acting as if the swipe was in slow motion.

Tom staggered clumsily, the after effects of the swing clearly showing his inexperience in fighting. Clenching his jaws, he tried a roundhouse. And failed again.

"That's enough of playing around."

A sharp pain exploded in his throat. Powerful fingers lifted Tom in the air, crushing the air out of his lungs. Nails dug into his thick neck as thin, venous streams of blood ran down the other wolf's hands.

The black werewolf regarded Tom. It stared deep into his molten gold eyes, studying his prey as like studying a piece of game.

All Tom could do was struggle, and wait to die.

"Is that all?"

Josef was having second thoughts about the hunt. He wasn't expecting Jonathan's pup to be such a weakling. Sure, he thought, he may have been with that human mother for so long.

"But to be this weak?"

He released his grip on Tom, dropping him like a sack of coal. He stepped back a few steps, measuring the footsteps slowly. The brown wolf just lay there, chest heaving up and down. A whimper escaped it's throat.

Josef saw the pitiful being there, anger in his icy eyes. The hunt had been planed beforehand. He had trained hard for this very moment. His teeth bled red with antagonism.

And he was disappointed. But he wasn't going to be denied of a fight. No. Even if he had to claw at invisible enemies and rage at ghosts, he won't go without a decent fight.

"Another chance."

His throat blazed like the sun. His back felt sore. He could sleep for centuries long.

A mournful howl echoed in his head. Tom opened his eyes, to come face with the night sky.

It was a beautiful night. The stars were carelessly littered on the blue black canvas of the sky, giving it a look of utter serenity. A full moon peaked from the clouds above.

"Get up."

Feeling that familiar tugging at his chest again, he got up from the moist ground, a unknown fiery determination burning within. He saw the other werewolf, icy eyes staring right back at him. They acknowledged him, regarding him as one of his own.

Tom had a feeling that he had been spared. Usually in other circumstances he would just let things slide. He had always been the peaceful type, always minding his business when he could.

But this time he couldn't. Something told him not to turn tail. He didn't know but be knew. That invisible chain seemed to egg him to fight, fight, fight……..

Actions didn't described what happened next.

Tom disappeared. He was there for a minute's glance. And he vanished.

Josef's eyes bulged. He went into a stance, eyes darting around to catch the enemy. He'd never seen anything like that. Never at all.

"What the..."

A large fist smacked him from behind. The force of the hit sent him crashing through the trees, splintering all trees in the wake.

Clumsily gathering his bearings, Josef grabbed a large tree to prevent himself flying any further. Another hit from the side bought him to the ground. Blow after blow rained down on his body like flaming comets.

He struggled to fend off the blows. His vision was beginning to fade. He coughed blood.

He loved this.

"Now THIS is a fight," he thought as he rolled away just in time to avoid a fatal blow. Jumping to his feet, he turned to face his enemy.

It was either the loss of blood or the weariness of age which was affecting what he saw in front of his eyes. There was something there, on the edge of the clearing. The moonlit sky gave it a more clear view.

It looked remotely like a werewolf, but didn't 'feel' like one. There was a reddish aura emitting from the mud haired werewolf, giving it a hellish look. His teeth and claws seemed to drip with invisible poison. His gold eyes blazed like the pits of oblivion itself.

For a short time, the enemy stared at Josef, thinking, catching for an unguarded spot.

And he disappeared again.

He tried to move, tried but didn't budge an inch. His arms wouldn't obey him as well. It was as if the hunter became the hunted.

"Why won't my legs move?" Josef thought, feeling his innards suddenly turn cold. Trying to sound brave, he let out a roar. What was supposed to be a battle cry was a weak, hoarse moan.

A sudden fist punch appeared from the side, sending him flying through the trees once again.

But now he couldn't do anything, couldn't flip back up and roar in the opponent's face like he always did. He was still frozen, limbs cemented firmly on the ground. His bravery and courage was wiped out in only a few seconds, and he didn't know why.

But the pain didn't stop there. The fist grabbed him by the throat, squeezing the very air out of his lungs. He felt himself getting scraped on the forested ground, adding to the pain which was building up in his throat. His eyes seemed to bulge open, the pressure worming throughout his head. He felt his stomach walls burst, feeling the hot, acidic liquid slowly cook his other organs.

He tasted something salty and metallic on his tongue. He knew what it was. It was then that a particular feeling came back creeping at him. He too recognised that feeling like an old gash, slowly feeling the scabs of protection peel and tear, exposing the wound's truth. He hadn't felt like this ever since the war in '63. He hadn't felt like this in a long time.

Tom felt an overwhelming surge of inner energy. It seemed to seep out of his pores, giving him an seemingly iron determination to kill that sick, sadistic fuck of a werewolf. Adrenaline revitalised his spirits as he rained blow after blow down on his enemy's body, pulling every punch as hard as he meant them to be. He landed one, then another, and another, the punishing blows didn't stop a beat. The other wolf just lay there, taking everything in. Like as if these hits were nothing.

"why won't he move?' He thought angrily. It almost seemed that he was fighting with nothingness, an empty vessel. It was quite literally, fighting a wolf who had lost it's teeth, it's bite.

It almost seemed useless to continue the fight.

With a deep sense of triumph, he grabbed the werewolf's thick neck, squeezing every drop of oxygen out of it's lungs. Lifting the black lump of mass upwards towards the moonlit sky, he stared deeply into it's eyes.

Eyes of the dead stared back. Eyes that used to blaze with passion for the hunt now seemed hazy with fatigue and despair. Cobalt eyes glistened with a tinge of crimson, as if it was crying blood. He was nearing his end, that he could tell. But it seemed that he had something else to say, something else before he met his rather painful demise.

Kill me.

That voice appeared in his head suddenly like a sucker punch in the gut. Tom's wolfen eyes widened with a irritated look. Not relinquishing his grip on the werewolf, he questioned the voice.

What's this? Another friend in my head?

It's me. Josef.

Tom shook his head in quick jolts. He really had to think about this. Voices in my head? What next? Aliens?

I know it's hard to believe it. But it's really me having a conversation in your head.

How can you do such a thing?

I had no choice. She and I had a few indifferences in the past we had to settle.

I was actually referring to me…

If the other wolf displayed, or wanted to, show any emotions, he was doing a good job at hiding them. The conversation continued.

Why did you come after me in the first place? Tom yelled in his head.

The werewolf bent his shaggy head downwards, as if somebody robbed him of his spine.

For the thrill of the hunt I suppose, he said casually as he stared at Tom. There was a certain relaxed tone of speaking in his gruff voice which sent invisible fingers of cold up Tom's back.

I mean, if you are one of us for a long time, you'll realize killing is like eating, which is actually both of the same category if you look at it carefully.

You'll want it. Need it. Hunger for it. Want it so badly that you'll think of nothing but it. And even if you've killed, you'll kill again. Nothing will quench the eternal thirst for strength and blood.

And it's clearly true in your case, am I right?

In what seemed to be exactly like suspended animation, both monstrous entities didn't move. Both stared at each other with cold, neutral eyes. Both waiting for each other to move.

And then it happened.

Day broke, stealing darkness as swiftly as darkness itself. The large, flaming orb started it's slow trek upwards towards the reddish yellow skies, inch by inch over the mountains first.

The yellow orb then glazed it's light on a human body. It lay unmoved, even as a gentle breeze blew south from the mountains. Large, congealed nail scratches covered the man's body, as if attacked by a large dog. His mouth was frozen in a jaw-breaking snarl, revealing unusually pointed canines. His unusually large hands, frozen in slight rigor mortis, were splayed open widely, as if they sported invisible claws. His neck was bent a grotesque ninety degrees, covered by bruises and more nail marks.

Red eyes stared lifelessly at the sky.

Tom observed calmly as crows descended on the dead body. They fought, squabbled, like uncivilised ruffians. They finally decided, then continued to devour the body with a renowned vigour. Bits of liver and spleen splattered nosily as the beaks pierced the mushy grey organs.

But this sight could not differ Tom's mind as the words rang continuously in his head, over and over again, almost as if someone glued a tape recorder to the back of his head.

You'll want it. Need it. Hunger for it.

Even if you've killed, you'll kill again.

Want it so badly you'll think of nothing but it….

Tom snapped himself awake. He walked pass the corpse towards the edge of the forest. He noticed, with a slight sense of comfort, that the sun was rising over the mountains. He found it surprising that that particular sight still put him at ease.

Like old times I guess…..

His thoughts abruptly came back to last night. He thought about what Josef had said, things that were all too true, and came up with a final conclusion.

I may be like you. But I 'm not you.

Staring downwards at Deadwood, he thought about what he should do.

Both mom and dad are dead. Deadwood now means nothing to me. Now where do I go?

"Is he dead?"

"Yeah. No doubt about it."

Back further on inside the woods, four people stayed hidden inside the thick foliage, observing their dead leader with slight amusement.

"So does that mean Josef's no longer our leader?" said a quiet voice.

"Yep."

A lanky person stepped forward slightly towards an opening. Sunlight reflected off his oiled leather coat which covered his slim, athletic figure. A holstered .45 Glock hung openly from his tapered black jeans. Black boots clad his large, rugged feet.

"We follow him." the person in black said suddenly.

"Since when did you become the leader Daley?" said the quiet voice.

"I haven't finished Smithback," Daley said, irritance in his voice. He brushed back a messy fringe of white hair before continuing. "We follow him, put him through a couple of tests, decide whether he's worthy of being our new leader."

"But he killed Josef", said a deep voice from the back. "Doesn't that prove that he's our new leader?"

"Not yet," said Daley. "He may officially be our new leader but I'm still unconvinced."

"Well, if you want to test him so badly, I suggest you make haste quickly." Smithback said as he hinted towards Tom. "He's leaving the site while we still engage in this pointless argument."

"Okay fine. Let's go."

The four strangers stood up, their long shadows casting over the soft, stony ground. And as if an invisible message shot through their minds, they ran.

Writer's Note: Usually, in this section, the author or writer would write their thanks and appreciation to their friends, family, resources, etc etc etc. I would have done that, but it sounds. No. It IS cheesy to even write in that format. I will, however, tell you about the next and final instalment of the series.

Hopefully, our hero Tom can try to adapt to his newfound ability, with the occasional full moon now and then. The pack members, most of them, acknowledge their new leader with no hard feelings. Daley, on the other hand, still seems doubtful about the abilities that Tom could not achieve as Jonathan McKenzie could. We'll see what happens in the next instalment.

That's all I'm going to write here. I'm going to say a few thanks to the three stooges Donny, Toaster and Richard. For just by looking at your actions, movements, talking, I can laugh and continue writing with ease and relaxation.

That's right. I lied.