I awoke to the smell of burnt bacon and scrambled eggs. It wafted through the cracks around my bedroom door and seeped in like a ghost. Disoriented slightly by my soft awakening, I couldn't really grip the reality of my existence. Split in half by the dream of my mother singing to me, and the burning breakfast that had awoken me, I could only think one thing. It's definitely not my brother cooking.

I got dressed quickly to shake myself away from my dream and my exhaustion. As I mentally prepared myself for the day, I made sure my zipper was up on my new cargo shorts, and that my shirt wasn't on backwards. Two things that had once gotten me laughed at. I didn't want a repeat of that at all.

The journey into the kitchen wasn't as good as it was when my brother was manning the stove. He was a much better cook than whoever was in there now.

And as luck would have it, my previous thoughts were instantly making me feel like a jerk for even having them. Because in the kitchen, waving a rag over a skillet full of crackling, popping bacon, was Claire.

She noticed me instantly.

"Alan! Can you open a window or something?" She said. The smoke from the bacon was much thicker than I'd ever seen.

As I ran to all the living room windows, I couldn't help but wonder if it was possible to accidentally cause that much smoke cooking bacon. How is that possible?

Luckily, we got the smoke out of the house before the other two came downstairs. Claire was especially grateful, because from what I'd heard of the other two; they liked to pick on people. It was all fun and games, my brother assured me, but no one likes being picked on.

"What smells like death?" Derrick asked, rubbing the crust from his eyes. He was in a pair of dark blue pajamas, and nothing else. I was a little taken back by how thin he was. He had muscle, and was very cut, but every other full-grown wolf I'd known, besides my brother, was thick and almost burly. Well, the women were an exception as well. Their bodies curved, making them look like living fantasies. At times, I really loved the world I was being ushered into.

"Bacon." Claire said angrily. She scraped the black chunks of meat into the garbage disposal and tossed the skillet into the sink, defeated. "Why are you up so early?" She asked, changing the subject.

"I'm going hunt. It's been ages since I last hunted here, and I'm not going to miss my chance when it presents itself." He answered, as if she had a problem with how he operated.

From the looks they gave each other, it didn't take me long to figure out that they either didn't like each other, or were living together before they came here. And by seeing how they treated each other the previous night at the dinner table, I'd have to guess the later. Their jokes and laughter made it an easy question to answer.

"Well don't stay gone too long, because I'm sure Wilson's going to want to do the same." She said, waving him off as he headed out the door.

If there was one thing that I didn't look forward too, it was having to be naked to change. I knew that if you changed while clothed you could get stuck mid-change, or worse, you could suffocate. Either way, the thought of being outside and naked didn't sit well with me. Not at all.

As Derrick opened the door, a hurricane of noise flooded my ears. It was something I recognized instantly as danger. And without thought, I rushed to the door, grabbed Derrick by the back of his pajamas, and yanked him back inside.

Mid fall, the sound of gunfire rang outside heavily. The explosive repetition from what I could only guess to be from pistols, were accompanied by the intrusion of metal bullets bombarding the half-opened doorway. The front door was torn apart piece by splintery piece. The top hinge was shot off completely; the door knob was blown inward and ricochet right past my face. And as suddenly as the gunfire started, it stopped.

Breathing heavily, I looked over too Claire, who was on the ground gasping and trying her best to recuperate. At least she wasn't shot. I thought.

Derrick was trembling under my arm, and as I checked over him, he started too kick away. "I've never been shot at." He said quickly. He was starting in on shock, and I also was starting to feel its cold embrace.

"I don't want to be shot!" He screamed. He was definitely justified. I felt the exact same way as I slowly stood to pull him away from the massacred doorway.

As I did so, a thick voice came from outside. I knew it instantly to be Diego's.

"Is Alan in there?" He yelled.

Fear engulfed me. They killed my mom, and now they're after me…

My thoughts were a rush of horrified excitement, and my body was starting to shake. Sweat covered my forehead almost instantly. But still, I found myself answering.

"I'm here!" I yelled. "Just don't shoot!" I didn't want the other's getting hurt because of me. They didn't deserve it.

"We've got orders to make sure you are brought back unharmed!" He said, his voice was wrought with uncaring for other people who might've been in the house. He didn't know whether I was alone or not, and still he just fired in on us!?

"What about the others?" I asked, keeping low, but staying near the doorway.

"Alan!" Claire whispered angrily. "Shut up! We're here to protect you!"

I looked over to Derrick, and I could have laughed. There was nothing anyone could do when their attackers had guns and they were unarmed. I'd been told by Marcus himself that it all lies in the ammunition. Of course at the time he was talking about his oddly sized pack.

"I know what I'm doing Claire." I lied, standing up to meet my attackers outside.

I had no idea what I was doing. At least, not at first.

Their guns were down when I finally peaked around the corner. Both men, Diego and Azura were both on Marcus's favorite list. Azura came in second to Diego though. Something the two fought about constantly when they were together. And I almost thought it funny that the only thing keeping them from bickering was violence.

"Oh. There you are." Diego said. His auburn hair was cut almost to the skin, making him look more sadistic than the last time I'd seen him. His partner Azura was just the opposite. His Japanese features were slender and cut around his face. Well, what I could see of it behind that shroud of black hair that hung to his chest.

Azura holstered his gun as I came walking out onto the porch with my hands up.

I could hear the grass asking me questions, but my fear pushed them out. Words like "Protect" and "Trust" were all I caught as I met the edge. I stopped.

"What's going to happen to them?" I asked.

Azura scoffed and got back in the car. "What a waste of a trip!" He complained.

"Nothing. My orders were to come and get you." He said, smiling at his accomplishment. But still, he held the gun tightly in his hand. He knew that the others were wolves, and he wasn't about to let my surrender get his guard down.

I took a few steps down the stairs and then I heard what the grass was telling me. We will protect you, trust us…

"Stop dilly dallying and get on with it, I haven't even eaten yet." He complained.

"Who killed my mom?" I asked. My sweat was gone now. All that was left was rage, and there was so much of it. This was my chance to know. This was my chance for reconciliation.

Diego smirked. I knew that Marcus wouldn't have killed her himself. He wasn't one to go into battle and fight. He was a coward, and that's why I hated him. Even before my mother's death, he was always quick to rush into conflict with the other packs. And when news spread of his resolutions, it was inevitable for them to reach my mother's ears.

"I did." The look of satisfaction made my blood boil. My senses were on fire from the sulfur building in my chest. Thoughts of violence were quickly being pushed into my head, and before I knew it, they engulfed me. And yet… I smiled.

The wind picked up between the car and the porch, its gentle push flew in between the overgrown patch of grass that I'd created, and its weeds were dancing. I knew what had to be done, and with that, I spoke.

"Good."

As if pulled in by nature itself, I rolled into my sanctuary. And then, I became perfect.

The roots from the weeds clung angrily against my skin and burrowed into me, but the pain was non-existent. My hate was their hate. Their leaves clung to my skin harshly, like armor, and began to thicken. Thousands of blades of grass clung to my forearms and before I could finish the transition, I was up.

I slung my arms out, and watched as hundreds of tiny green daggers scattered forward. Their trajectory was like a slew of darts, and they littered Diego's confused face. Blood spattered from the entrance wounds and squirted over the black Dodge they'd come in.

Azura fought unsuccessfully to upholster his gun in the car. And as he struggled and squirmed, I laughed. The power was immense, and it was starting to take over. I couldn't stop my actions, they weren't mine anymore.

I pressed my head up against the cool glass and I watched him freeze.

Impale.

I felt the lawn under the car sharpen and straighten, and then without warning, they shot through the undercarriage. I could only catch a glimpse of the green lances pierce him. Their staggering numbers made it hard to watch his face turn from fear to pain, but at least I got to see the horrible grimace on his face as the grass pushed through the bottom of his jaw and burst from his eye sockets. It was beautiful.

Blood erupted from every angle of his body and within a fraction of a second I couldn't even see into the car.

"Too bad." I said sadly. "What a waste of a trip."

A soft gasp had broken my cynical concentration. Diego was still alive. How pleasant.

I strolled around the vehicle, my eyes followed the blood. "Diego? Where are you my friend?" I asked politely. The feeling of invincibility was coursing through my veins like a drug, and every part of me was addicted. The pain I'd felt the night before was instantly forgotten. All that I knew now, was the feeling that I'd finally gotten my revenge.

But as I turned the corner, Diego fired his gun.

I flinched. I felt the pressure on my chest, a hit that would have instantly torn through my heart… but no such thing occurred. Instead, I looked down at the flattened grey bullet as it smoked, burning against my green exoskeleton. "That's new." I said wondrously.

Again and again he fired, all the way until he was out of bullets.

"Did you enjoy killing my mom?" I asked through my contradicting smile. He knew I was enraged; I just wanted him to fear me as much as she did him.

He couldn't form a single word. All that came out were half-spoken pleas for his life to be spared, and there was nothing on earth that was going to stop me from denying him the rest of his life. The malice that came from my thoughts was starting to take a toll on me.

And as I debated on the best way to kill him, I had a thought.

Can you make him experience pain? I asked.

The sight of him would have been enough for me without this form. His face was pierced by the green knives that I'd thrown at him. One went through his left eye and stuck through the bone, shooting out of his skull without fatal damage. I could see many holes in his cheeks and he was missing teeth. One of the more excruciating was one that was still stuck right in the center of his chin, splitting the skin and the bone apart. He was in unimaginable pain as it was… but I wanted more.

We can.

Then do it.

The grass he lay shaking on started to tremble. And like worms, they dug themselves out of the ground and crawled on him. I watched in great satisfaction as they burrowed deep under his skin. Screams exploded from his throat. They made me smile. I felt like a five year old opening presents as they made their way under the meat, shearing it from the bone. I watched as the tendons that held his arms in place suddenly shifted, there was so much screaming, and so much blood.

Fingers began to pop out of place; nails were popped off by twisting blades of grass as they chewed through the meat. Every knuckle was being cleaved of its meat and every time they were done, that piece fell off.

But the best was when they reached his face. The single blade that had once been like a still blade in his chin, twisted quite suddenly, shearing his bottom jaw in two. I was pleased.