A New Home

A snarl that pierced the night. Moonlight glinting off bared canines. Yellow eyes glaring into the depths of his very soul. An agonizing pain in his upper arm.
This is all that can be remembered by the eleven-year-old. His age is tender. Not quite aware enough yet to realize the seriousness of what has happened to him. Not naive enough to be able to recover without mental scars. His black hair is a ruffled mess, silvery highlights that had not been there two days prior glimmering in the light creeping through the cracks of his window shades. He lays on his side, knees curled near to his chest, his icy blue eyes open but unseeing as he listens. Since he was very small, he has realized that the voices of his parents carry through the vent from their room to his. It has been a source of comfort, has caused him to feel close to them even after he has gone to bed, but now, their voices provide no comfort. In fact, their voices now cause nothing but confusion and pain. "We can't keep him here! Y-you saw what happened to him last night! He was a beast, a total monster!" He flinches when his mother speaks, tears pricking at his eyes. Was he truly that terrible, for his mother to suddenly hate him like this? He can't remember anything from last night after the pain. "I know..." His father's voice sighs in return. "I've contacted a few people, and it seems the best option is to take him to the closest mental health research facility. They have the equipment there to take care of him when he...and they're our greatest hope at someday finding a cure." He has no idea what a "research facility" is, but it sounds frighting. He clutches his favorite toy closer to his chest; an old stuffed bear that he's had since he can remember, the toy that not a single one of his friends know about, or they'd laugh and call him a sissy. "But what will they do with him during the rest of the time? Surely they don't expect us to! What if something were to happen while we have him? No one knows how this whole condition works." He sniffs, his nose beginning to run. They're talking about him like he's not worth anything to them; just some trash that needs to be thrown away. He thought that they loved him. Why is it such a big deal? It hurts horribly, yes, but after the pain, everything goes black, like falling asleep. He's been a big boy now for a long time, he can handle some pain. But they refuse to listen. "They're going to keep him indefinitely. They're very curious about his condition. They'll be able to glean some information during the times when he's not...as well. If they can use him to get information on this condition now, maybe other families won't have to suffer like ours." His father speaks of sending him away without a hint of regret, at least to the mind of the boy. His mother seems more concerned about getting rid of him as soon as possible than what is going to happen to him. They can't even speak the words that tell what he really is now, and what happens to him. They keep calling it a "condition." "I...I suppose you're right. This will be a good thing for us then, and maybe for others too. Oh Franklin, why did it have to be us? Why him?" His mothers sobs begin to echo through the vent, but the boy pays little attention. His parents have just made the decision to send him away. Terror and pain grips his heart like an icy claw. His parents don't love him any longer, that's clear. And they're going to send him away, possibly for good. He doesn't want to go anywhere; he wants to stay here, in his room, with his parents. But...if they don't love him anymore, maybe...maybe there's no reason to stay. But this "research facility" sounds awful. He certainly doesn't want to go there. So, where can he go? He slowly sits up, continuing to hold his bear close. Where do they always run away to in movies? He thinks about this for a few moments, before coming to a conclusion: the woods. In movies, they almost always run away into the forest. He makes the decision; he's going to run away to the woods. The entrance to the trees lies just past his school, only a few blocks away. He can make it there easily. He quickly gets up and packs a few things into his backpack: his favorite comic books, a flashlight, some candy bars laying around his room, his stuffed bear, everything essential, in a young boy's mind, to run away. He pulls on his size too big sweatshirt, slings his backpack over his shoulders, slips on his tennis shoes, and quietly opens his bedroom door. His parents are still in their room, talking about the arrangements for his move that will never happen. As stealthily as he can, he slips past their door and through the living room to the front door. He doesn't look back as he carefully turns the handle and opens the door, closing it behind him.
~
He's exhausted, sore, and starving. Those candy bars didn't last him more than a few hours, and this is the third day of aimlessly wandering the forest, completely turned around and lost. He's managed to locate his backpack each morning, but there's little in it that can help him. He never would have run into the woods if he'd known it would be so tough. Scrapes and bruises litter his body, along with dirt and leave debris. Lucky for him that it's early fall, long before the harsh cold of winter that would have claimed him within a night. Even so, he's suffering. But he refuses to try and find his way back. His parents don't want him, and thus he doesn't want them. At least, this is what he tells himself. Desperate for a rest, he falls to his knees when he finds a stream, dunking his overheated face in the water both to cool it and to take a long drink. Once he's finished, he drags himself over to a tree, resting his back against it as he recovers his breath. A twig snaps nearby, causing him to freeze in fear. Could it be someone searching for him? His parents, maybe, come to take him to the research facility. He can make out a human shape through the foliage, causing his heartbeat to quicken. He slowly gets to his feet, ready to either bolt or leap upon whoever has found him, he isn't sure which yet. Finally, a pair of hands part the leaves, and an unfamiliar person emerges. The teenager has tousled honey-blonde hair, kind eyes, and a spray of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The boy doesn't know what to do; this guy doesn't seem like someone he should be afraid of. "Hey there." The young man speaks, a smile crossing his face. "You're a good ways from the city. Did you get lost?" He shakes his head, crossing his arms. "I'm not lost." He's spoken for the first time in three days; his voice comes out a little cracked. "Of course not." This statement arouses suspicion, so he narrows his eyes, watching him carefully as he takes a small step back. "I mean, you're obviously going somewhere." The teen points to the backpack he had thrown to the ground near the stream. He realizes he wasn't being mocked, and instantly begins to relax. This man couldn't have been sent by his parents. "What's your name? Mine's Luke." "My name is Shane." The teenager's smile seems to grow when he gets a response. "Well, nice to meet you Shane. So where are you headed?" The teen fully steps into the clearing, heading toward the stream, and then suddenly stops. He sniffs the air, as if he's smelled something familiar, then turns to face Shane, his smile considerably smaller now. This slightly worries the boy, so he tries to sound casual. "Oh...No where. J-just anywhere away from home." The man slowly nods, sadness entering his eyes. "That's what I thought...You were attacked by a wolf, weren't you?" The boy's eyes widen in shock. "H-how did you know?" "You smell like one of us." Upon hearing this, the boy quickly sniffs his arm, wrinkling his nose in confusion. "I don't smell like nothing but dirt." A small laugh comes from the teenager. "Only other werewolves can smell you, Shane. You can't smell yourself. That's what you are, right? A werewolf?" The boy nods in reply, frowning. "Yeah, that's what my parents called me...Y-you're one too?" The young man crouches down in front of the boy, in order to look him at eye level. "Yes, I am. I'm a werewolf just like you. I change into a wolf every night when the moon is full, like you have been, because I was bitten by another werewolf." The boy's hand subconsciously moves to the bite mark on his upper left arm. "M-my parents wanted to send me to a research place because I'm a werewolf...They don't love me anymore." The teen sighs at this, lowering his gaze sadly. "It's because they don't understand. It scares them, what's happened to you, and they don't know how to take care of you anymore Shane. To them, you've completely changed, even if you only change when the moon is full." The man looks back into Shane's face, a small smile again appearing on his lips. "We werewolves have to take care of each other, since our real families won't do it for us. Me and my friend Brenner are going to start a family of werewolves so that we can help each other; a pack. Would you like to join our family Shane?" The boy looks startled, unsure of how to react. This man he doesn't even know is asking him to go with him, to be part of a "pack." But as he looks into those kind brown eyes, he knows what choice he should make. "Yeah...Can I?" The teenager smiles big at his reply, his eyes seeming to shine. "I wouldn't have asked if you couldn't. It's a bit of a walk back to the house where I live...Think you can make it?" The boy hesitates. Is this a test, to see if he's worthy to join? He's so tired, he doesn't know if he could make it...The teenager seems to realize his hesitation, and before the boy knows it, he's being hoisted up onto Luke's back. "Well if you can't walk, then I'll just have to carry you." He wraps his arms around the young man's neck and rests the side of his head against his shoulder, a small smile on his face for the first time in days. "Thanks, Luke..." The teenager's smile continues to hold its place on his face as he begins the trek toward the house that is to become Shane's new home. "Welcome to the family Shane."