Big Bad Alphas

   I have always taken care of Kendra like a mother.

   "Kendra!"

   "Kendra!"

   My mother was broken, always too hurt to properly take care of a child. All she could do was her job, helping the Luna.

   "Kendra, where are you!"

   I would make breakfast in the morning while our mother slept, or while she stayed at another's house. She was heartbroken, and it made her reckless sometimes. I wanted to hate her for it, but I couldn't. I hated her because she let the sadness make her weak.

   "Kendra!"

   "Kendra, please!"

never became determined again. All she had left, all her energy went into her job, none to spare for her family. In her mind,

of a tree, stabilizing myself before the intense worrying causes me to vomit. Where could she be? Where could she have gone? Did Kendra simply run in a random direction until she couldn't hear the sounds of killing anymore? Those types of screams stay in ones mind

time—but what if I can't? How can I let her down when it matters the most? Kendra's life is on the line, and I'm suppose to be her mother figure, I am supposed to save her, protect her. If something were to happen to her,

of the tree and continue

disguised behind its dense layering. I creep closer, hoping it's Kendra, but I pause when I notice a thick coat of dark fur. Not knowing if the beast has

me. If I shift, it will kill me. If I stand here, it will kill me. If I beg, it will kill me. If I shift and then run, it will catch me. If I scream, it will kill me. Either way this beast, stronger and bigger than I in any

in its eyes, an animal ready to do what it does best, survive, hunt,

giant paws, snapping twigs like it will snap my neck. The wolf prepares to lunge at me, giving me no time to think any longer. With a quick and sudden decision, I throw my head back and let my beastly side take over. Hairs sprouting one by one in a split second, bones shifting, changing like a caterpillar to butterfly, and once dull

me, threatening me, telling me that I will soon die.

swift lunge and snap of a jaw, the wolf makes its move and takes me to the ground with a startling thud. I fall to my back

sprint forwards and prepare to attack it from behind, but it meets me halfway. To a human child, we may look to be two dogs playing it the backyard, but rather than barks, the air is filled with snarling and growling, snaps and whimpers. I am again brought to the ground, fighting back any attempts

down long enough for me to slip out again. This time, I sprint off into the trees, knowing it is hot on my trail. Things are crushed underneath me, sounds that I have never heard before, large branches, bushes, dead tree branches, as I have no time to be so careful to where I step. Mud coats my paws as I rush in the direction of the commotion I escaped from. If I can lead