The Last Wolf - Prologue

            Change is inevitable. Humans grow from tiny eggs in their mothers’ bellies into breathing babies, screaming toddlers, rebelling teens, and hard working adults. A wolf has less time to grow from their tiny eggs into breathing babies and fierce hunters because their lifespans are so much shorter than the humans. Imagine only living for eight years instead of eighty years. What would you do with your time?

 

            Luckily, I was born a human sixteen years ago. I don’t have to worry what life would be like as a wolf; there’s nothing to fear except for staying out of the way of others who want to harm you. I am free, for now. I am healthy, and I have nothing to fear.

 

            When I was little, with my little ruffled pink dresses and excessive curiosity of the world, I wasn’t allowed outside because I was prone to catching every cold, virus, and infection that came my way. I was in the hospital twice a year for dehydration even though I drank water like a fish. Skin and bones was an understatement when describing my appearance.

 

            Child Protective Services came to my house more than once to check on me; they found that my mother bought me a mini-fridge that was fully stocked with plenty of water and enough food to keep me in my room for a year, and she kept the fridge by my bed�"we actually used it for a nightstand. My dad, the local preacher, lectured me many times on the importance of being healthy. “You have to eat more so you will grow up to be strong like your mother,” he used to say, even though I knew I would never be like my mother.

 

            The woman I called mother was a plump, short woman with straight, bight blond hair and deep green eyes. I stood at least three feet taller than her, a foot taller than my dad, I had copper colored hair and golden eyes�"sometimes when I got up late at night I’d look into the mirror above my dresser to find that my eyes looked more yellow than hazel. My father often joked that I got my coppery hair and unnatural eyes from the milkman because all of his family members had soot black hair and big blues eyes, but I got his gene for the skinny look.

 

            I gained weight over the winter, my coppery curls looked redder than usual, and my skin wasn’t as pale. I felt incredible. I knew that something was wrong in the back of my mind though. I felt too good to be a sickly child.

 

            “Mom, what’s wrong with me?”

 

            “Dahlia!” she stated, “nothing is wrong with you, darlin’.” She stood on her tip-toes as she reached to put a piece of coppery hair behind my ear. I smiled as I stooped for her to get a better reach.

 

            “Thanks, Mom.”

 

            “Now, go out to your party. Yellow looks so good on you; it brings out those beautiful eyes,” she patted my cheek before pushing my shoulders back. I laughed as I walked out of the house.