I’m lying here curled into a ball on the cement floor after many weeks in captivity, beaten, bruised and weak. My wounds will soon heal before the next interrogation but as always, I’ll remain silent. I think back on a happy memory I shared with him; Kyran Lewis.
Our world was once free until they came along. Our country once in the light now exists in shadows, because they live in darkness.
Nine months earlier.
I was walking to work through the woods near my home on a cold, foggy morning where the scent of pine is in the air and the crinkle of leaves below. I could certainly feel someone or something following me. I see movement from behind a tree, a grey wolf with soulful green eyes; I’m mesmerized. The wolf stares back into my blue ones, well aware that I should be terrified, but strangely a warm feeling of calm fell over me.
It took a few steps towards me and I stood still, not out of fear but letting him smell me knowing dogs like to do that. Wolves are probably similar I would imagine. I’m not sure how I pick up the wolf is male, just a hunch I feel. Oddly, a sudden hit of attraction strikes me, which quite frankly is disturbing.
The wolf stops in front of me continuing to look into my eyes. I stare back deeply in his. I could feel intelligence in him, much more than an animal’s. The woods were grown for the werewolves by The Government next to Central Park so it isn’t difficult to figure out he is one from there. I’m not sure how but I know my life just changed, and in a sense something moved inside of me clicking into place. From the slightly startled look in his green eyes, he felt it too.
I put my hand out, palm up, for him to sniff and to come closer. He takes a sniff but I think purely for show sending out his acceptance for me to stroke his fur. I move toward him allowing my hand to run through his pelt. It’s so soft and glossy looking. He makes a rumbling noise in pleasure. Remembering I should be at work soon, I move back and start walking the way I’d been going before I saw him. Looking over my shoulder every few seconds to watch the wolf who’s going from tree to tree following me.
The wolf stops on the border of Woodlands Creek as I leave him, going into the streets of New York, crossing the road. I look back at him one more time before opening the door to my work and find him still watching me, sitting on his haunches.
That’s the first day I met Kyran Lewis, but I hadn’t known that then. I wouldn’t find out the secret he held until many months later when my story began.
Would you want to live in the shadows?