Rogue Wolf

Moon Two

Once school was over I was able to go over to my ride and get ready for the twenty minute trip home.

Except somebody had scratched the body...

WHO THE HELL.....?

I glared at everyone around me. No one seemed to be the culprit, which might have been a good thing since I would have ripped their throats out if I'd found them..

Damn.. It was with a coin as well what kind of person would stoop so low and use a quarter to damaged my Yamaha?

They'll pay....I'll make sure of...

"Someone wrong?" I paused, swinging round to see Gwen and her meek, weak excuse of a boyfriend Pete standing nearby, both looking somewhat concerned.

I growled in the back of my throat, "it's none of your business."

"She was just trying to be considerate," Pete demanded slowly moving infront of her. I felt my claws slowly retract and then I paused. Lunetta was getting in her car, her hair slowly trailed behind a little, a spray of white stream, lovely in the slowly dying light. I immediately felt myself come to a complete sense of rest.

I slowly turned to them my face somewhat twitching.

"There is nothing wrong," I said putting a smile on (hiding the obvious points in my teeth). They stared at me nervously and slowly backed away, muttering to each other. Smug I turned back to where I'd seen the Angel but she was gone, her car and all traces vanished.

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The ride home seemed endless, we lived on the other side of town. In bad traffic it took about half an hour to get home, fifty minutes if it was that bad.

I stopped at the end of our driveway, our rather small house was plonked on the top of a hill, with trees at the bottom perimeter and grass covering most of the area with a straight dirt driveway that went up the hill to the house.

Our number was fifty two. It wasn't a bad street, our area had lots of land and so each house was widely spaced apart. It would probably take five minutes to visit the wild family of five kids who lived in number fifty three or that funny old man who seemed to have Playboy magazines sitting on his table beside his pond (creepy.)

Our letterbox sqeaked as I lifted the lid up, finding the rust had nearly destroyed the hinges. I picked up the few envelopes we received and glared at the catalogues we'd been sent.

"Improve your well being, take krill pills and you'll feel a hundred percent revitalised," I read on the top one.

Yeah right.

I left the junk mail in our letter box, closing the lid as I jammed the envelopes in my bag before revving my engine and travelling up the hill.

My old man's ute was parked infront of the garage (in my spot!) Where it's odd crimson paint had chipped and rust was above the tyres and on the door handles. My old man is a car detailer, he is very artistic and enjoys spray painting random crosses, stars, skulls, you name it on people's cars. He owned his own business and the logo was on the right door of his ute.

I read the logo as I pulled my bike up next to the right side of his car. It was painted in jade green and a mustard yellow.

Kenward's Kreations (how original.... Not.)

I heard my father's radio from the door of the garage as I pulled my helmet off and shook my hair making my newest accessory (what a girlie word) glint. I had got a stud (much to Lunetta's chagrin) and I found it suited my vague so called bad boy image. Made of steel I'd crafted it myself and then went into town to get it stabbed in my ear.

He was into the Rolling Stones, Nirvana that kind of stuff (not that I didn't enjoy it either) and it was a familar Nirvana song that was booming in the garage.

Grabbing the bottom of the door I slowly stood up straight, lifting the door up as the gears heaved it up and around to lie above the door way, suspended by metal braces in the roof. My old man (well his name's Stuart) was bent over his work bench, a spray can in his right hand as he waved the toxic chemicals all over his latest design which was hidden by the stencil he had created.

"I'm home," I said as I walked over to a shelf and placed my helmet on it. He grunted his reply. He was always like that, never did say much, maybe he never wanted to say anything anyway...

I began to go through the door into our house when the spraying suddenly stopped, "Cole, can you give me your opinion?" I turned as he shoved the stencil aside and lifted up his latest creation. It was a dark, menacing wolf, designed as if it were made from flames, spikes coming onto the trail and the back to indicate the fur. It's teeth were bared and it's menacing glint seemed to be missing.

I stared at it before he got my attention again, "now what do you think?" He asked grabbing two cans, "red, or green for the eyes?" He held each one up individually as he said their name. I stared at him before looking back at the wolf, it almost came to life and leapt at me. I jumped before suddenly glancing back at him feeling startled, "green," I immediately answered. He frowned at me.

"Something the matter Cole?" He asked peering at me odd. It's funny how we seem so alike yet so different. We both have similar build, style of clothes, hair and skin colour, but his eyes are a soft brown and mine that odd blue. I inherited my eyes from my mother and my somewhat wild streak.

My father was somewhat creative, I found ecstasy in running freely, like my mum before me who had told me she was a wild spirit. One at which no one could catch. The thought of mum made an unusual lump in my throat, unable to swallow it I quickly went into our house, closing the door gently behind me.

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Inside our house it was rather modern, a bench by the kitchen where I occasionally ate ( hunting made up most of my diet) a lounge room with dark brown couches shades darker than the coffee brown floor boards and the wooden walls (we decided not to paint most of the house). A small television was placed in the top left corner on a coffee table next to the large window blinds which submerged the house in shade.

I placed my bag on one of the metal stools that were around our bench and peered at the fridge. My old man and I had drawn a line down the top door of the fridge where we had our own seperate sides. He had the left I had the right. It was our job to leave any messages, notes, junk in our side and if we had a phone call message or voucher which the other had received it was up to the other person to place it in the right area (whether it be left or right.)

The newest update was a yellow sticky note to me in my dad's handwriting.

"Tony called," I read outloud hoping to find more information.

There was none.

Damn...He always did this, no matter how many times I may have (tried) to explain to him that these details were important, he was absent minded when it came to the day, time and reason.

"When did you get this?" I asked holding it as he stepped through the door way, pulling his gloves off as he closed the door.

"Probably half an hour ago."

"What did he want?" I asked impatiently, Tony was one of my only (few) friends and it was probably thanks to our secret identity (of a werewolf) that made it so that we'd have contact (whether it be as beasts or human.)

"Probs to meet up with you at the Hawk Eye," he said chucking his gloves on the kitchen bench and opening the fridge, "say's that there's been some movement with the Sumanitu Taka." (mean's wolf howl in Lakota which is due to the nationality of their leader...)

Reuban's clan....Damn... Why did he have to still be around....

"They causing you problems Cole?" He asked taking out a beer and pulling the cap off with his teeth (sharp and pointed like mine).

"Not at the moment," I admitted (now there were only two members...) "Ever since that incident with Luna they've stayed away from us...And from her," I added rather glad.

"It's not like they meant any harm," Stuart (my old man) said sipping his beer, "I'm sure that whatever they were doing was just for a laugh," I felt my fists tighten as I listened to his careless words.

"Besides they did back off in the end...."

"They....Were going..To KILL HER!" I roared feeling my teeth start to grow as my claws drew fresh blood in my hand. He stared at me, watching as my bones began to reconstruct it's skeleton.

"You don't understand," I growled, my nose scrunching up slightly as I beared my teeth, "they wanted her as prey...Her, my one and only prey...She belongs...TO NO ONE ELSE!" I slashed a hand across the table, smashing his alcohol on the wall. The brown drink leaked down the wall, the glass sparkling into tiny green shards that plinked onto the floor and the bench.

His eyes didn't leave me, his eye brows stayed even his expression rather serious. He barely got angry since he found it hard to control the part of him that we both shared.

That might have been a good thing too....

"I think," he said after a moment's silence, "that you should call Tony and speak to him; I'll make you clean this up first." My teeth stayed exposed. He bent down to our cupboard underneath our sink where he got out a blue dust pan and brush. He handed me them and I stared at them for a moment.

Great....How many times have I done this?

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After about an hour later I was on my bike and riding down one of the streets to the Hawk Eye where Tony had asked me to meet him. Usually Tony didn't come out any more unless there was a reason and I didn't have to guess what it was.

I pulled up outside the place, it was a pub but it did have a dining facility included and this I was allowed to partake in (not that I'd never had alcohol before). It was like those buildings Luna told me she'd learnt during Ancient History, the tudor era, I think it was...

Caramel painted with black beams supporting the roof (which was green) and the name in big gold font. I took my helmet off and placed it in the compartment before going inside the building.

Inside was loud music with a bar that had a few people sitting on the stools, two men played darts while a lot of tables were full in the dining area. It was brightly lit, with hanging plants on the posts and a large wide screen television was in the far left corner with a group of men cheering their rugby team on.

"About time you got here," I turned to see Tony looking at me. His shoulder length hair was tied in a ponytail and he had on a long, red sleeved t-shirt underneath his brown leather jacket. His jeans were a dark blue and his shoes nearly the same shade as his jacket.

"My old man made me clean up," I commented walking over to him and doing our manly hug (we pat each other on the back.)

"What did you break this time?" He grinned gesturing me to a stool to sit beside him.

"His beer bottle," he laughed.

"Wow, you must have quite a temper there," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. I sighed.

"Yeah well it gets me into a heap of...."

"So what will it be boys?" The bar tender asked drying a glass with a tea towel.

"I'll have a beer thanks," Tony turned to me, "you?"

"Sorry, my old man will go mad if he finds out I've been drinking."

"True, true, sorry. Sometimes I forget that you're under age," Tony apologised, "then again," he added a cheeky look on his face, "that never stopped you before."

"Don't remind me," I told him, remembering the whips from his belt after he'd found out, "I'll have sars thanks." (That is sarsparilla)

"Coming right up," the bartender told us as he went back to his work. I turned back to Tony, "so why did you need me to come?"

"Bad news I'm afraid," he admitted staring at the details of the wood in the bench, "you won't like it."

"Well say it already," I said confused and annoyed, "what is it this time?"

"It's the Sumanitu Taka," I froze.

No...Why does it have to be....

"According to the new scents I've picked up," Tony said lifting his head to look at me, "they've regrouped and they're bigger than ever."

He might as well have told me that he was a woman (not that it wouldn't have been worse.) Silence gripped me, everything was silent in my mind, the only sound was that of my heart thumping oddly. I swallowed hard gazing down at the bench.

"When you say bigger," I began pausing, "by how much are we talking about?"