Anatomy of a Werewolf

Acknowledging the presence of Sterling and Harmony, the tattooed man inquires, "Why are you out of class?"

Sterling responds respectively, "Mr Bates instructed me to show the new student around."

When Harmon's eyes withdraw from her thoughts and onto the man in front of her, familiarity tugs at her memory; but, she can't find a matching face. Dissatisfaction lingers.

He looks at Harmony, "Welcome to The School of Werewolf Hunting," then continues down the stairs.

Sterling continues guiding Harmony to the changing room. It's a cramped space like a box, with several, small cardboard boxes filled with uniforms dotted around. An ice cave that sends chills to the core of student's bones. The changing room's freezing breath seeps from the entrance, spreading across the hallway.

While Sterling shivers as they approach the school's north pole, Harmony follows behind, not bothered by the bellow zero temperature.

"Each box is labelled with a size," Sterling explains after they enter.

Harmony approaches a box, "this is the official uniform," a drop of disbelief in her lowered tone, she holds up a red sweatshirt, unravelling it from the neat fold it hugged itself in.

"It's not conventional, I know; but makes sense. This isn't a typical school." Sterling's teeth chatter through his voice like castanets.

After getting into her new uniform - navy shorts and a blush sweatshirt with the school's logo on the left, they make their way to class. "First class is history; until you get yours you can use my schedule." Sterling offers.

"Thanks." She returns, pulling her shirt into place by the sleeves.

Heads turn at Harmony's entrance then return to the teacher. Like mice, Harmony and Sterling find their seats.

Students sit in rows and columns like bathroom tiles, the teacher's desk faces the wall with the interactive whiteboard next to her and her computer In front.

Miss Dunner, the history teacher continues her lesson, "for centuries humans have been pray to these beasts, powerless until recent improvements to our technology." She explains with a passionate disgust as she clicks through her slides. A detailed sketch of a fearsome werewolf baring it's canines is displayed on the whiteboard, and a woman clutched in it's claws by the neck, gasping in tears.

The scene in the picture isn't a stranger to Harmony; she knows some werewolves are beyond terrifying. Her eyes jump away to the plain white corner on the screen.

Miss Dunner asks, "when was the first werewolf killed? We covered this recently." She leaves the slide on the distressing drawing.

"In 1952 by Sir James Larson." Mia shouts out, her chin high in pride.

Harmony clenches her teeth in response to the joy in the room at the mention of a wolf-born being murdered.

Miss Dunner praises Mia before resuming, "A werewolf's muscle is tough to penetrate, it was James Larson who devised the idea of using werewolf bone in place of bullets. Moreover, by aiming at the joints and parts not protected by muscle, you can inflict enough damage to weaken a werewolf." With a red laser, she directs her classes' attention to the joints of the werewolf on display.

With the teacher's words Harmony envisioned L.J being shot behind his knee, the fabricated sound of his screams tightens her chest. Unable to bare anymore, Harmony jolts up before she could realise it, all eyes fall on her expectantly. She then realises she has to camouflage her rage, for Wila, "what about the blue injection?" She eases the quaking in her voice.

Confusion takes over in the room, the teacher answers, "what do you mean? What injection?"

They don't know. "I'm not feeling too well, could I be excused?" Harmony lies her way out of the situation, her head low in thought.

Sterling volunteers, "I'll take her to the nurse's office." Accompanied by silence, he leads her to the infirmary.

Nina glares at Harmony as she enters with Sterling. She moves to a bed further away from the two, a bucket filled with vomit clasped near her mouth as if it were her life support.

The Nurse thanks Sterling, "You can return to class now, thank you for bringing her in."

Eyeing Harmony in concern, he requests to remain with her, however is denied by the nurse.

After answering some of the nurses questions Harmony endures the silence, often broken by gurgles and splashing from Nina throwing up, accompanied by her provocative remarks such as, " I could have won if I was feeling well, you think your all that just because you beat me once."

Eventually the sickening smell overcomes Harmony, stirring her stomach and tipping away its contents like a volcano eruption. The nurse's office soon becomes a musical performance of vomit performed by Harmony and Nina, driving the nurse herself away.

With a sensitive sense of smell, Harmony is overwhelmed by the odour of sick thickening the air. Remaining there would corrode her insides, she sits her bucket down, gets up and pulls the door open.

"You're finally leaving," Nina comments loud enough for Harmony to hear as she walks out.

Without Sterling by her side, she is left to trace his scent which is crowded by other smells within the school. Unlike members of her pack, Harmony's tracking skills are unrefined. Amidst the scent of plastic, rubber, sweat and perfume, a deep metallic smell like blood looms in the air, rattling her concern, leading her nose to a classroom. Students curiously gather round a limp furry werewolf's body on the table, it's organs on display like a rat in biology. Sickened as she stares from the door, Harmony embraces herself, wrapping her disturbed stomach, while drenched in disgust and rage. "I should never have come here," she thinks to herself.

She glares at the students pocking and pointing at the werewolf's innards, her teeth clench her tongue to keep her from yelling in furry. Her nails dig further into her skin when the teacher passes the werewolf's heart and lungs around for each student to analyse like a game of pass the passel - how dare they disrespect a fallen enemy.

confliction spirals around Harmony like a vine, from her mind to her feet, holding her in place. Leave or give in to rage, the wiser choice is a whisper in her heart whereas something else deep within shouts for her to barge inside.

The teacher approaches the door, he gestures for Harmony to step back,. Hesitantly, she forces her legs up and distances herself from the doorway.

"Do you need something?" His leg holds open the ash wooden rectangle, his blue gloves washed in blood, a liver griped between his fingers like a ball.

The suffocating scent flows out of the classroom room as if it were being blown by a fan.

Behind him, with the teacher's attention removed, students play with the body like a doll, pulling up its middle finger at each other, making bunny ears, and throwing it's heart in a game of piggy in the middle.

Their laughter is cut for a second when their teacher looks back, however resumes as quickly.

Harmony's nails burrow further into her palms, forming her hands into fists. Her heart beat quickens, like a gushing river she can feel her blood course around her body. Hastened by infuriating, her eyes leap from the organ in his left hand, to the bloodied glove covering his right hand, then finally land onto his eyes.

Her thoughts depart from her location and her imagination begins to stir.

Before the teacher could blink again, Her fingers grip his throat. Like juicing an orange she squeezes the air out of him, the strain reddens his eyes and forces the veins in the side of his head to the surface. His legs no longer on the ground.

The class becomes silent when a student yells out, "look, Mr Barlow."

Harmony's strength keeps increasing causing Mr Barlow's eyes to inch towards the edge of their socket, almost ready to pop out.

The distressing sketch from class flashes into her mind, returning her to reality. A hurricane of guilt; shame, furry and regret torment her mind.

"Is everything alright?" Mr Barlow is left unanswered as the half wolf hurries away apologetically.