The group of humans came out, bunching together protectively. They knew the strength of a werewolf was much greater than that of a human’s, whether the werewolf in its human form was strong or not. One adolescent, evidently the leader of the group, motioned for the others to hold their fire, desiring to kill Night himself.

Night recognised him. “You!” She snarled, lips peeling back to bare a set of impressively sharp teeth. She lunged for him, but fell back in pain as the group raised their rifles and shot her, most of them missing but one hit her thigh, above the other wound. She whimpered quietly, but then ignored her pain as her anger flamed. “Noah, you traitor!” She laughed as the group looked at Noah in confusion.

“What is it talking about?” one asked Noah, bewildered.

“Nothing,” Noah answered sharply.

“Oh, so you haven’t told your little friends, have you? Well I’ll tell them for you!” Night said. “Humans, Noah here has taken part of a werewolf tradition, the Joining ceremony! He shares now the blood of werewolves. Look at the Design that has been cut into his palm! He is double the traitor and has betrayed us both!” She growled and launched herself at him, grabbing his hand and turning it over roughly. “See here!” she cried, revealing the Design.

The humans gasped. “She speaks the truth!” one yelled. “Kill them both!” He raised his rifle and fired, but Night leaped to avoid it. She defended herself, extending a claw and slicing any humans in her reach. Finding none, she advanced on the humans and swung her arm, clipping four on the head with her claws. They died instantly. The rest ran away, fear of her overcoming their desire to kill Noah.

Night now turned to Noah, who looked at her beseechingly. “Please! I didn’t know! I didn’t know it was you, Night!” He threw his rifle away.

“Does it matter whether it is me or any werewolf? You are by ceremony a werewolf yourself,” Night replied. “Would you kill your own kind?”

“No! No!” Noah said, panicking. “I didn’t mean to! I only wanted higher status, only to help the werewolves,” he tried to explain.

“I’m sure you did.” Night snorted. “Somehow I doubt that.” She grabbed him by the throat with her clawed hand, pinning him to a nearby tree trunk. His legs dangled above the ground. “I trusted you,” she hissed. “Don’t think I’ll make that mistake again!” She let him go, and turned, limping away. Noah crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. Night did not look back.

Wind sighed. “So was I. I see no reason for us to harm werewolves. What have they done to us to deserve such a life? To live in the wild, all alone, and fearful of attacks, both of humans and wolves? Caught between two races that wish their death, with no reason but hate?”

The two were in the woods, away from camp so no one could overhear their talk. It was not safe to speak of werewolves in the midst of other wolves, unless to say how much one hated them. They lay in the low bushes, branches brushing their pelt. The forest was silent, except for the twittering of birds in the warm fall afternoon and the scuffling of small prey collecting food for the winter. Blaze looked around her, thinking of the times when she had played with her werewolf and wolf friends. Her eyes filled with tears, but none fell. She blinked them away. Most painfully she remembered Night Black Star, her closest friend, besides Melody. Night Black Star was part of the Tree Song pack, which the Fallen Leaves pack had attacked three years ago, Melody and Blaze’s pack.