"Son," King Just declared, "I know that you are a bit sour this morning..."
"Sour?" Prince Derrick spat sarcastically, "Why would I be sour?"
"Son, you should be happy," the king smiled, "You could meet your soulmate at any time."
It was the morning of his twenty-first birthday and Prince Derrick was feeling just peachy. He had come to the conclusion that he did not want to meet his soulmate and most definitely did not want to go to a ball. Even if that meant he could dress better than he normally did, he just couldn't and wouldn't accept his fate.
"Anyways," the king continued, "I have issued something that will hopefully cheer you up."
"What could possibly 'cheer me up'?" the prince huffed stubbornly.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe a wolf hunt?" the king smiled slyly. Derrick rolled his eyes.
"Have you not noticed that I always go on wo-"
"Alone," interrupted the king. Prince Derrick stopped mid-argument and looked at his father with wide eyes and an slightly-opened mouth.
Derrick almost smiled. Yes, he had gone on wolf hunts before, but never alone. He would always have this ring of knights surrounding him like bodyguards. It was as if he was a precious, delicate jewel that needed protection all day, every day. Derrick, as you've probably guessed, hated it. The sword around his waist was never really used to kill anything because, where as he would get a few slashes of his sword, the knights did much of the wolf killing. The prince was shocked to hear that he was finally allowed to do as he pleased.
"Alone? With no knights?" the prince asked, just to assure himself. The king nodded his head, smiling knowingly, while the prince resumed glaring.
"Well," Derrick sniffed, "I guess that makes today less terrible. When am I going on this wolf hunt?"
"Whenever you want, Son," the king replied, "Today is your day, and you have no one to wait for. The knights are guarding the castle and Oliver is ready to go. I made sure of that. You could even go right now if you'd like."
"Right now seems like a time to start. Things like these do take a lot of time," the prince reasoned, standing up from the table laid out with food, and turning to leave. Before the prince could leave the king reached over and grabbed his wrist, making Derrick turn to face his father's worried and withered expression.
"Be careful," the king requested. Derrick rolled his eyes and ripped his father's hand off of his wrist.
"Trust me, your majesty," Derrick huffed, "I'm not going to end up like Mom."
Derrick walked swiftly out of the dining room, feeling his guilty father's eyes watching him leave. He knew that his father felt responsible for his mother's death, but Derrick couldn't help but rub it in his face. It was a horrible aspect of his personality: if something bites him, he bites back...but on the wrong person. For a twenty-one year old, Derrick has too many responsibilities and too many things on his mind to concentrate. Maybe the good thing about getting a soulmate would be that the person he was destined to be with could ease his mind in some way. Derrick shook his head; no, of course not, he might not even get a soulmate. He doesn't even want a soulmate.
"Your majesty?" asked a young girl maid, who had passed by him in the hallway, "Is there something wrong?"
"No, stupid peasant, " he snarled, "I am perfectly fine. Now leave me be before I punish you."
The girl's eyes widened and she let out a little squeak of fear. Punishment for misbehavior was often held in the castle and more than often, the maids would cower in terror of any mention of it, even if they did no wrong. Though, only the high lords and ladies knew what the punishment was...and the ones being punished. The punishers made sure that the punished would not tell of what their punishment was, for what is more terrifying than the fear of the unknown?
The girl maid nodded and kept walking down the hallway, desperate to get away from the grumpy prince as fast as possible. Derrick continued his storm down the corridors, trying to get outside with no interruptions.
When he opened the door, the icy air brought his boiling thoughts to a simmer. He realized that. yes, maybe he was going to get a soulmate, but that was later. Now, he was going on a wolf hunt, by himself. For once, he was allowed to make his worries drift away with the biting wind and calm his nerves.
He felt a heavy presence on his head: his crown. To the kingdom, his crown meant riches and high-class treatment. To his father, it was evidence that he was soon to become a king. To most princes, a crown symbolized authority, identity, and power, a most prized possession when in hand. To Derrick, the thing was just a lump of pretty metal that brought burdens and hardship. To Derrick, it was a constant reminder of his pre-told destiny that he never wanted.
Was he going to wear it into the woods on his first wolf hunt alone?
Not a chance.
He looked around, spotting a pile of snow that was at least four feet deep. Shrugging, he took the crown off of his head and buried it deep. There. Now, no one would steal it. Not like he cared if they did.
With all problems behind him, Derrick ran to the stables, feeling like a new person. No one was around to stop him from doing what he wanted and he felt just amazing. No maids to question him. No knights to baby him. No humans in sight to be romantically involved with. Nobody and nothing to get in his way.
"Hello Ollie," the prince greeted his trusty, beautiful steed in welcome. The chocolate mocha horse, Oliver, neighed in greeting as if saying: Good morning, little prince. Come to visit?
The prince loved horses more than anything and used to spend time with them daily with his mother as a child. His mother, who loved music, sang songs while she rode them. Her and Derrick would ride the stallions to the apple orchards in the springtime and pick the beautiful budding flowers from the trees. He felt attached to the animals. So attached, in fact, that he could read their expressions and almost tell what they are saying.
Oliver was his favorite horse in the stables, even if he was a bit old. Derrick remembered when his mother helped his mother bring him into this world. Derrick was only ten then, making Oliver eleven now. Ollie was like a little brother from a different species and a piece of his mother from his better past.
"Well, I have a wolf hunt to attend to. Fancy being my ride?" Derrick asked. Oliver snorted as if to say: Of course. Derrick smiled grabbing his wolf-skin coat off of a hook nearby and saddled Oliver up.
After he got Oliver saddled up, the prince hopped onto his back and then rode off into the deadly woods, in search for a prey to kill.
Meanwhile, in the woods, Jake Pierce ran from a band of murderous hunters. He had accidentally ran into them in the frighting forest, and hoped for the best. But the best wasn't on his side. His wolf streaked through the trees, weaving around the trunks, desperate to escape the horse-bound killers behind him. He could hear his nose flaring for a breath and his power surged through him with every time his claws dug into the ground. He pushed to increase his speed with every stride. Burning cold wind blew his mane of rust and black fur from his face as he twisted through the towering obstacles.
Suddenly, white light broke through the trees as a clearing neared. The wolf almost paused to see and marvel at its winter beauty, but he was smarter than that. There was no time to look at pretty nature when your doomsday is right behind you!
He ran faster, crossing the clearing and plunging back into the dark woods with his pursuers following. The young wolf was reluctant to do so, but he would rather run through evil woods than be killed.
He looked around as he ran. If not for the hunters lurking in the shadows and the ever presence of death and evil eyes watching him, Jake would love to peacefully walk through this beautiful place. As a wolf, he had a natural liking towards the forest and running and freedom. The serenity of the woods was almost calming to him. But not these woods. The people chasing him proved that.
He made it to the edge of an ironic, yet ominous cliff. Looking down was a deep lake of water. He looked at his chasers, who had stopped and hopped off of their steeds.
"Cornered now, eh?" one of them asked, smiling evilly.
Jake looked at the lake and then to his hunters. Should he jump for it? The lake seemed deep, but the cliff wasn't that high up. Maybe...
He growled at the hunters to give off a warning as they edged closer. What should he do? If the fall didn't kill him, surely the hunters would? He looked at their shining swords before deciding. No, he was not going to die like that. He then turned to the cliff side, and with all of his strength, he jumped.
And he fell into a watery unforeseen darkness.
Jake woke minutes after, only to be faced with the same group of killers. The swift currents of the lake had quickly washed him to shore and his fast-healing and alertness allowed him to wake up before the team of hunters could do any damage. In fact, they had just made their way down the cliff and around the lake on the horses. They were gaining speed and distance, closing the feet of ground in between them and the young werewolf. Jake had to ignore all pain he had from achieving the biggest belly-flop in history and instead ran for his life.
If this was the way he would be treated as a wolf in the kingdom of Mac Tire, then he realized why his father was so strict.
You might be asking, then why don't you just turn into a human?
That's a very good question.
See, even if Jake did turn into a human, he would risk utter chaos. Werewolves are known to have bad tempers and when they did get these tempers, they would turn into wolves to release their anger before it took over. If he did that in the middle of a street full of people, he would surely be burned at the stake for being 'abnormal' or 'a curse' or 'a disease'.
That's the way it works when you are different than everybody else. You get blamed.
For a war.
For a consequence.
For a plague.
For corruption.
For division.
In every history, it's there. That's what the people and rulers of the kingdom do to wolves, even those who are not half-human. They kill them because they are blamed. They are blamed because they are different.
And so that is why the secret of the werewolves' existence was such a secret.
And why Jake's father was so strict when it came to the outside world.
Jake pushed harder, feeling the wind blow his wet hair wild and whip his mane of fur far from his face. He listened to the sounds of the woods, hearing the hoof-steps of high-praised horses growing further from his sharp ears and feeling the presence of death grow to a dim as the hunters were left in his tracks.
He took a glance behind him to be sure that he was really free from the hunters and saw none in sight.
Perfec-
Smack!
Jake didn't realize there was something in front of him until he ran right into it.
Stupid tree-
Wait. No. Not a tree.
Horse.
Sh-
"Oh look," said a voice, " A wolf."
Jake wished he could say, Good job, Sherlock. But, he wasn't about to expose his identity to sass the hunter.
He looked up to see who this genius was, locking with a pair of green eyes. Really pretty green eyes. His pupils dilated as a rush of feelings washed over him and his head was filled with fuzz. His legs almost collapsed beneath him in alarm as a heavy feeling weighed his chest. All he could focus on was those two orbs.
Oh.
Well then.
Not just hunter apparently.
Soulmate.
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