Chapter 1

A young woman with the blood of loup garou finds herself searching for others like her

 

The sound of air rushing over a car caught the attention of Kendra’s ears.  The faint, high frequency of drag gave the distinguishable sound of a semi-truck about to round the tree line.  She rose from her seat on the guardrail, back pack over one shoulder, and casually stuck her thumb out for the wind to catch.  The semi broke past the tree line, heading straight for her.  She heard the faint sound of pressure being taken off of the accelerator as if the driver was pausing to consider picking up a hitchhiker.  She could feel the driver looking her over, even though it was for a few short moments, and for whatever reason the accelerator resumed, causing the truck to go flying by her, gusting up eddies that threw dirt in the air.

            Kendra kept her arm out a few seconds longer as the gusts of wind blew through her short, black hair.  She eyed the side mirror, trying to meet eyes with the driver, but his gaze never left the road.  Her arm dropped as the truck continued to drive down the highway, gaining distance from the tree line with each passing moment.  
            Looking down at her watch, she decided that 3 o’clock was late enough for staying in one place.  She bent down to re-tie her tennis shoes and pulled out a half full water bottle for a quick swig before tucking it back into her backpack.  Pulling the backpack back over her shoulder, she began walking down the side of the highway in the same direction as the truck.  
            This highway had very little traffic, but trash on the side of the road was still common.  Occasionally she would see road kill on her path.  The rotting flesh that had been cooked in the sun for days could be smelled at over a mile away when she walked downwind of it.  Her saving grace from the foul stench was an occasional mint herb along the roadside that she would rub the leaf against the top of her lip to mask the onslaught of the odors associated with death.  Another unpleasant smell was that of old tires baking in the sun, fumes of rubber and tar would fill her nares without mercy.  She rarely considered humans as fortunate, but their lack of olfactory receptors was truly something to envy of them in times like these.
            As the day began to fade and the sun sat just over the horizon, she approached a highway rest stop; smells from the diner whisked over to her nose on small air currents, and her sharp ears heard the clanking of dishes and mumbling of voices from within.  As she walked closer to the diner, her eyes scanned the small parking lot with several trucks and a few cars.  A periwinkle Jeep sat at spot closest to the door that had a reserved sign reading “Her Highness.”  Kendra smiled at the sign as she walked past it and through the front door, where she was welcomed with an ice-cold breeze from overused air conditioning and the smell of grease on a fryer.  
            The diner was clean, despite the myriad of truckers that occupied its interior that appeared to have not bathed in almost a week.  The walls were painted bright yellow with a light tan trim, the stools and booth seats were a darker tan that complimented the yellow better, and the tables were wood that smelled like they were regularly polished and well taken care of.  A small family sat at a table, parents looking eagerly at a map that looked folded over way too many times.  The rest of the occupants were the truckers who sat quietly at the bar, enjoying their dinners and coffee.  A tall woman with brown and red hair braided down her back walked out of the kitchen.  Her stature gave an air of confidence as she squared her shoulders to Kendra and placed a tattooed hand onto her hip.  She wore dark jeans and a black tank top that read “Bounty Hunter” above a picture of what appeared to be a monster truck.
            “Coffee?” Her voice had a pitch of perkiness but the sound was deliberate and strong.
            “Please.”  Kendra scanned the room and spotted a hallway leading to the restrooms.  She headed for it, aware of the eyes that were now on her as she passed the men, whose attention was diverted from their food by the short greeting.  

The bathroom was cramped and smelled of stale air.  The water was lukewarm, and refused to be refreshing as she splashed it on her face.  Pulling a comb out of her pocket, she touched up her short hair so that it looked less wind-blown from the open landscape.  

Upon returning to the bar, a mug sat waiting for her away from the truckers that continued to eye her over newspapers and drinks.  Kendra sat on the tan bar stool, letting the steam from the coffee fill her nose.  She could smell that it was slightly burnt, but the quality of beans was a testament to the diner owner’s generosity towards their customers.

“Got dinner in mind?”  Kendra looked up to see the woman with the braid standing across the bar.  Her name tag read “Marlee.”  

“No,” Kendra looked back down to her coffee. “But I am looking for a place to stay the night if you could point me in the direction of the nearest hotel.”

“Nearest one is about ten miles down the road,” she paused.  “I saw you walk in.  Car troubles or are you a hitchhiker?”

“Hitchhiker.”

            “Are you afraid of motorcycles?”  Marlee’s eyebrow raised, as if giving Kendra a trick question.
            “Depends,” Kendra says, “if I am on the motorcycle or under it.”
            Marlee gave out a laugh.  “My nephew is going to be here in about an hour, I can ask him if he’ll take you.  The hotel is nothing special, but its the nicest thing around here.”
            “Thank you.  You are too kind.”  Kendra was surprised at the local hospitality.  It’s too bad I can’t stay longer, she thought.
            About a half hour later, the sound of a motorcycle was easily heard coming down the highway, and without looking over her shoulder and out the window, she could tell it had pulled into the diner’s parking lot.  The sharp sound of the kickstand rang out and a few moments later the door to the diner opened.  There was a pause, and then the footsteps walked directly to Kendra.  
            “I’m Donovan.  You must be the gal that needs a lift, am I right?”  He leaned against the counter next to Kendra, giving Marlee a little wave of acknowledgement
            Kendra turned to him.  He was a young but a little older than her, about 25, with light brown hair and bright green eyes.  She smiled at him, “that would be me.  I’m Kendra.”
            “Pleasure to meet you,” he said mockingly.  “Shall we?”
            After leaving a twenty on the bar, Kendra followed him out to his bike.  It was an old Harley cruiser bike, but that’s where her knowledge of motorcycles ended.  Donovan lifted the seat and pulled out a helmet, and handed it to Kendra.  The helmet looked as if it were sitting around for a long time, but the smell of it proved that it had not been used very often.
            “Where are you from?”  He asked as he threw one leg over the bike, knocking the kick stand back up at the same time as if it were habit.  He fiddled with his sunglasses before putting them on and adjusting his mirrors.
            “Flagstaff.”  Kendra said.
            Donovan nodded, “great places to camp out there.”  He motioned for her to get on, and with an easy movement, she swung her leg over and nestled comfortably in the second seat.  “And where are you going?”
            “I’m not sure yet.”
            “Fair enough.”  The engine started and drowned out all noise.  Grabbing onto his waist, he backed the bike up and pulled it out of the lot and onto the highway.
            The drive only took about ten minutes before they pulled into a local two-story hotel.  It was decent on the outside, and stood next to a small gas station, but other than that the two buildings were in the middle of the plains.  There was no parking lot this time, just curbside parking.  As they came to a stop, Kendra swung her leg over and tried to ground her shaking body.  She realized it has been a long time since she’s been atop a bike, and the vibrations felt foreign to her.
            Together they started walking towards the hotel.  “My dad owns this hotel, so if you need anything, just let us know.  The gas station has food and drinks if you need any, and  I take the night shift in about an hour.”  He pulled a keychain out with a single key on the ring.  “You’ll be in room 5, go ahead and get settled in.”  Kendra took the key and thanked him before walking over to the door with the golden “5” on it.  She slid the key in, but the lock was stiff and took a little shaking of the knob to get it to turn.  
            The room was small but well maintained.  The queen size bed took up the majority of the space, leaving only a small table with two chairs.  The bed appeared to have a handmade quilt laying over it, depicting a kaleidoscope of patterns.  Kendra dropped her bag into one of the chairs and threw herself onto the bed out of exhaustion.  Songs filled her head and like a lullaby, aided in her falling asleep.
            Kendra awoke abruptly several hours later.  She was hungry.  She knew she couldn’t wait till morning.  Picking up her key, she opened her door and walked out.  From her viewpoint, she could easily see the “closed” sign hanging in the gas station’s doorway.  She looked down at her watch.  2:32am.   She could smell that Donovan had walked by recently, probably doing a security round.  This might mean he may not have another for some time now.  Her eyes gazed over to the open fields.  The smell of sweet grass called to her, and the sounds of critters scurrying about was enticing.  Too enticing.

            She walked over to the field, stopping just at the edge and pausing to look around for signs of humans, and saw none.  She stepped into the grass, maneuvering easily through the thicket, until she found a spot where she could change.  With another look around, she pulls off her shirt followed by the rest of her clothes until she was completely nude.  Laying the key atop her clothing, she stepped away to begin changing.

            She crouched onto her haunches to bring herself closer to the earth.  Taking several deep breaths, she began to focus her thoughts on a single goal.  She felt the energy inside her, felt it moving in her veins.  She concentrated on making that energy grow, to become part of her bones, skin and muscle.  As she thought it, her body changed.  Thick fur grew from her skin, her joints and bones contorted to accommodate the new shape, her ears began to point and slowly move higher on her head.  In a matter of moments, Kendra was gone.  In her place there stood a wolf.

            Instinct flooded through her as the sounds and smells overwhelmed her senses and a primal instinct to hunt took over.  The familiar smell of a pheasant came through on a cross-breeze, which was enough motivation for her to start running towards the upwind and unsuspecting prey.  As she approached, she crouched down, using the grass to hide her outline and scent.  Patiently, she waited to make sure the bird did not see her.  It stirred for a moment, before continuing its nightly forage.  With a quick leap, Kendra pinned down the pheasant and ended its struggle.  Once the bird lay quiet, she released it and let out a long howl to honor its death, thanking it for its sacrifice.  The howl was long as she put her mourning emotions into the song.  She never enjoyed the kill, but always mourned the ones that gave her strength.  The song gave her peace of mind, as she dedicates each note to the creature that helped her live another day.

            After her song, she carried the pheasant closer to where she had left her pile of clothes.  Ever aware, she scans the horizon and the two buildings for any signs of movement before lying down in the grass to enjoy her meal. 

            I have to leave tomorrow, Kendra thought as she plucked the feathers off, causing several to stick to her tongue making her lick the air to try and remove them.  I cannot let myself get side tracked.

            When Kendra finished her meal, she stayed in the grass and watched several grasshoppers jump in front of her.  The moon was waxing, just over half full, which provided plenty of light in the thick field.  She listened to several rabbits as they chased each other in and out of the weaving brush.  The sound of a nighthawk called into the sky from a location unknown, letting its haunting call escape into the night.  Dew was beginning to form on the plants and the breeze was gentle on against her pelt.

            Deciding it was time to head back, she began to change again, focusing on her hands and skin, waiting only seconds before watching the transformation.  She could feel her bones realigning and her fingers stretching.  Before she knew it, she was human again.  Or at least appeared human.  With a quick glance around, she walked over to her clothes, and began dressing, remembering to slide the key into her pocket.  She still smelled blood and as she brought her hand up to her face, realized she still had a lot of blood on her from the kill.  The morning dew had caused her clothes to become moist and heavy, sending chills up her back as her shirt slid over her skin.

            As she walked back to the hotel, her shoes tried to sink into the soft soil with each step.  The grass danced at her feet and appeared to be reaching up at her as if begging her to stay. 

            Kendra looked at the hotel.  Something was different about it.  She took a moment to adjust her eyes on it, looking at each little detail.  Then she spotted it.  A tiny flickering of a candle came from the roof.  That wasn’t there when I left, she thought.  Her pace slowed as she second-guessed herself about the candle.  Everything else looked the same, no other lights or open windows or doors.  As Kendra got closer, she pulled out her key, getting it ready in her hand before reaching the door.  As she came to the door, she slid the key in.  Jammed.  She took the key out and slid it back in, remembering to jiggle the handle a little to help push the pins inside.  She heard the lock take and turned the key the whole way.

Click-click

            Kendra froze.  That was not a sound she was used to hearing, but she knew what it was off of instinct alone.  She took her hand off the door and stared at its wood texture for a moment, focusing in on an area where the paint dripped and left a streak down the front.  Slowly, she turns her head around, keeping her feet planted below her.  She is met with the two holes at the end of a shotgun in Donovan’s hands.