"Could you imagine trying to juggle being a normal, hormonal teenager and being a raging werewolf?"
Jack had to learn real quick that being a werewolf was both a blessinganda curse. He couldn't tell anyone what he was. Couldn't allow himself to get close to anyone ~ not even his family. And when the hunters showed up on his door step one day, firearms at the ready, he ran. He ran and he never stopped running. Every few days he'd find himself in a new location under a new alias. It was his way ofsurviving.
The Boy Who Cried Wolf ~
Jack's adoption was set through an adoption agency in the city in which he previously resided. He was but a month old when his parents would come to fetch him from the hospital. As tiny as he was, Jack was a quiet infant. He rarely ever cried, fed plenty, and he grew quickly. At the age of four, his parents adopted another young child. This one a little girl. She was only a year old. Jack would become the best, most protective big brother on the block. By the time Jack was six years old he'd already outgrown most of his clothes and was kept under constant supervision due to the sudden rise in his body temperature. He wasn't a sick child. At least not in the normal sense anyway. And doctor's were at a loss as to what could be causing such a distressing illness. But Jack didn't appear any different. He still ran around after his sister, still rough and tumbled with their father and helped their mother with the cooking and cleaning.
Jack was a good boy.
September 28th, 2001
7pm was the time the Dawes residence would sit down to supper. The children, six year old Jack and his three year old sister, are tearing around the house. Jack’s gone and stolen one of his sister’s dolls again, the rascal! Little Bethany is screaming her lungs out and races away from Jack who has cheekily hidden himself behind a large indoor plant in an expensively large decorative clay pot. A wooden spoon to his backside has Jack yelping, tears pricking his eyes as he hands the doll back to his sister. Their father is preoccupied in his study and won’t emerge until dinner is called to order. But dinner never comes. The front door is kicked in as three men rush across the threshold bearing arms. Round after round explodes from the barrels, glass breaks, wood splinters and bodies fall. All but one were slain in the Dawes residence that evening. Little six year old Jack had remembered something his father had told him many moon cycles ago. “If anythin’ happens, ye run. Ye hear me, boy! Ye run and ye n’ver look back!”
And that’s exactly what Jack did. He ran until he could not run no more. When his bare feet were bloodied and bruised and his lungs felt like they were going to explode.
A Wolf in Boy’s Clothing ~
The origins of Jack's werewolf genes were lost somewhere between conception and adoption. His biological parents didn't want anything to do with him after the birth and he doesn't know he's adopted, nor had he known he was one of the cursed ones from the book of Fairy Tales his adopted mother would read to him before bed. Little Red Riding Hood being his all-time favorite. His wolf is quadrupedal and considerably larger than the grey and timber wolves that inhabit the earth. Unlike his boyfriend's bipedal form, Jack gallops on all fours. His fur is inky midnight black with deep, sapphire blue tips and there is a small white tuft of fur on his chest between his forelimbs and around his bottom lip. Large hues of scintillating burnt umber drink in the world from a different perspective. In this form, Jack retains his humanity to some degree. Though he cannot speak, there is the possibility of telepathy in which to communicate with other wolves within the immediate area, however Jack does not yet know how to active this ability and therefore uses the old fashioned barks, growls, rumbles and howls to do his communicating for him.
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