1.
Gary Fletcher grew up around dogs. His father worked as a handler in the TARL (Topeka Animal Rescue League) as a veterninarian. His mother, he was never sure of, as she had left them when he was a baby. His father did remarry and Gary got his version of Cinderella, including the evil step sisters.
Christy and Misty – yes, really – treated him like he was the village idiot. Gary spent more and more time at the pound. He had an affinity for the animals. Cats shied away from him, but dogs came right up to him. Once or twice, he thought he could hear their thoughts, simple thoughts of “food” and “pet”.
His father came up to him one night when he was fourteen years old, after everyone had gone. This would be a night that he would remember for the rest of his life. “Do you hear them?”
Gary turned around and stared at his father. He blushed and looked away. “Sometimes I hear them.”
He nodded. “I have to show you a secret.” He crouched down on his haunches and his hands touched the ground. He shimmered, and Gary heard bones crack, reset, watched as his father split open the back of the shirt. It fluttered to the ground, along with the pants – his father hadn’t worn any shoes when he came over.
He watched as a light brown wolf stood before him. The wolf had eyes like his father. Gary walked over to him gingerly and put his hand out to it to smell, like he did to all dogs. The wolf batted his hand away with his nose and put up its paw into it instead.
“Dah…”
Then as he held the paw, the beast shifted and changed. Still with the head of a wolf, it rose on two legs, but grew broad and large. “Yes, Gary,” it said, his voice with a tinge of a growl. He gripped Gary’s hand in a huge paw. “I am a werewolf.”
Gary put both hands to his mouth at first, and then slowly broke out into a smile which he let his father see. “Awesome.”
The wolfman laughed, which came out almost like a bark. The other dogs started barking in return. He then changed back, more bones breaking and reforming. He didn’t wear any clothes. His father looked up at Gary. “Sorry about that, the clothes don’t change.”
“That’s so cool! Can I do that?”
“Well, you might. Come with me, I need to get another change of clothes.” His father walked naked into the pound, and locked the pens behind him, then headed to his office. “Your mother was a garou, too.”
“Garou?”
“It’s French for werewolf. The name’s fancy so we figured we’d keep it.” He went into his closet and pulled out a set of clothes already on a hanger. “Your mother belonged to the tribe of Silent Striders. Wanderers all, so it wasn’t surprising that she left. I’m from the Fianna tribe.” He smiled at Gary. “Hard drinkin’ Irishmen we are, lad.”
“So which tribe am I?”
The smile faded quickly. “Neither. Both. Depends.” He started putting on clothes. “You will have to go through your First Change. You’re around the age it happens, so I wanted to show you in case it happened suddenly.” He looked up. “When your mother and I had you, we were kicked out from the tribes. One of the rules is that garou cannot mate with garou. We broke that rule.”
“Why?”
He chuckled. “Why does love happen? Who knows. Gaia knows, and I’m sure she thinks it’s just fine, because she embraces any expression of love. The Litany exists like the precepts of the Catholic Church do – to keep everyone down.” His father was a full-blooded Irish Protestant, and to hear that from him wasn’t surprising.
He finished tying his shoes. “You don’t need to know everything, Gary. Just know that if suddenly you drop on all fours and feel excrutiating pain as your bones break while you change into a wolf, that it’s no problem, it’s perfectly normal.”
How could it be perfectly normal, he thought. It’s awesome!
Words: 697 (ok, a little short, but I only had half an hour)
Inspiration: Character created, Fletcher Airflex.