9 Kind or Killer

Tuesday Early-Morning January 11th, 2015. Beacon Hills, California.

Mo's foster parents were happy when he came home Monday night in lacrosse gear with a backpack full of books. That were totally not stolen.

Better yet, they didn't know he was gone all Sunday night. He told them he left early— excited for his first day of school.

He kept the ritual in motion by disappearing another full night in a row— hoping, they'd once again not care to check his room.

He needed the air— the freedom and movement away from human eyes and technology. At night, most of it slept. He relaxed. He thought himself into circles.

"The Alpha has a motive. He stinks of it. Cruel intentions. But I don't know what. All I know is he needs a pack, and Scott is his first member. Bathong! I have to move fast before he's taken over.... It can happen to anyone if the Alpha is strong enough. But I need help. Us two can't fight him off. Scott is….. a chihuahua. Maybe I can find a Druid or medicine-man. They can sometimes be nice….. at least when they're not under the ownership of werewolves. Or worse…."

That was the last bit of coherent thought Mo managed before the run took him.

It became less about in the moment sights, smells and worries and more of a fluid high speed flow of reaction, impulse and presence.

Feelings and urges of others hung on the wind like pelts left out to dry. He existed, wearing the face of others.

A beast.

A man burned by the fires of hatred.

A son rising from the ashes of his fallen pack.

A dead mother. Red eyed and torn in two—

Mo woke up.

"Eish…. Sleeprunning? Seriously? This is not the time…" his arm hair stood on end, causing him to look around and say, "Or the place."

His nostrils flared as he inhaled the familiar scents. His heart pounded as he felt the familiar anger. Only more potent. Rage.

"This is where it happened." He looked down at the ground and found the alpha's footprint still stamped into the cold forest earth from when it stomped the ground to upend Mo's sprint.

He shivered at the memory. His still healing cuts burned. He brought his fingers to his nose and hissed at the smell of the alphas blood that lingered.

"This place…. It's—"

Leaves crunched behind him.

Mo spun around. His skin began to change ever so slightly like the fur rising on a startled cats back.

His eyes gained amber rings. His nails extended into claws. The skin around his eyes darkened until tear streaks formed like the cheetah. The dark markings sucked in the light of the early morning sun and maximized his vision, taking away the glow and glare of everything. Making the world easy to process.

Making the figure easy to spot.

Blue-eyed and on all fours. The figure zig-zagged from tree to tree, trying to remain hidden and hard to find. To anyone else he would've been invisible. Even another werewolf. The whole portion of forestry smelled like him. The trees and dead leaves were part of him. Even the ashen soil and burnt remains of a mansion in the distance. It even felt like him. Overwhelming sadness and pain.

Mo only felt similar levels of pain and suffering impressed on the land in parts of South Africa where packs of werewolves raided ghettos or worse.

He bit back the memory and relaxed as the wolf circled.

"That's it…. Keep moving." Mo relaxed as his eyes began to follow the prowling predator. "You always…."

Mo's fingers twitched.

The earth rumbled and the leaves levitated.

"Trip…"

As soon as the words left Mo's mouth, the werewolf snarled and took a tumble. A male. Pale skinned and larger than average.

Mo was on the move before he could fully recover.

By the time he was standing, Mo was already in the air and slamming his bare feet into the man's chest with a high speed drop-kick.

The werewolf slid backwards and slammed into a nearby tree hard enough for the wind to leave his chest.

Mo flipped out of the attack and landed on his hands and feet. The werewolf slid down the tree, letting out a dazed growl.

As Mo stood up, the werewolf looked up at him and snarled, fully transformed in an instant.

He didn't look like the alpha— like something out of a horror film. He looked real. Fathomably dangerous. His jaw muscles expanded, allowing for greater biteforce and defense. His nose thickened as the olfactory nerves and muscles fortified. Fangs split his lips and shadows danced over his blue eyes as his brow-ridge grew.

He'd also gained an extra ten pounds of muscle. Meaning he was older— more experienced werewolves had more control over their shapeshifting ability.

Mo tried to swallow down his adrenaline as he put his hands up, "I'm not here to fight. There's been enough death here."

His eyes widened, "What?"

"What? This place is like an old cemetary."

The werewolf growled.

"Wait... is this your cemetary? Your people? Eish….. of course…—"

The werewolf charged.

Mo flipped out of the way.

The werewolf spun around and snarled.

"There's a new alpha, yes?" Mo said quickly.

The werewolf hesitated.

"I want to kill the alpha— but I can't do it alone." Mo said quickly.

The werewolf hesitated again but didn't calm. "Why…?"

"I like running. But I am tired of running away, akere." Mo said firmly.

The werewolf stood up and rolled his shoulders, "So you want….. my help? You think I'm some sort of charity service?"

"I think the werewolf killed someone important to you. I think you're living in the ashes of your people already, and the beast alpha is only making things worse. I feel your pain in the earth. I've felt the same….. I've lost the same. And there is another. He doesn't want to kill and corrupt like the alpha. I don't think you do either. At least not where it's not needed."

"You think you know me?" The werewolf said through bared teeth.

"Do you know me?" Mo asked.

Silence.

Mo nodded, "Then we are on even ground... with a common enemy. I've fought many of your kind. I've even killed some. But the woman who taught me the most about this world was like you."

"A werewolf?"

"Alone." Mo said. "She did not last long." He hissed silently, "You wont either."

The werewolf calmed— or just became less outwardly murderous, "What are you?"

"I walk in the skin of something….. something like the cheetah. Something else as well. I am different from you, but not by much. You may call me Mo." Mo said.

The werewolf exhaled and assumed his human form through a series of cracking bones and shoulder rolls, "Well, if you don't know who I am, then you must be new here. I'm Derek. Tell me where the new wolf is."

"He's….uhhh… in school." Mo smiled.

"….youre kidding."

"Sometimes, but not right now." Mo laughed nervously.

"That's fine. That's manageable."

Derek began walking.

Mo followed after him, "You're not planning to kill him, are you?"

Derek side eyed him.

"He's not like the alpha. He's…. different. His spark burns hotter than most."

Derek side eyed him again.

"Not very talkative, are you?" Mo asked.

"No."

"That's ok, skeem. I can fill the silence."

"Please don't." Derek said.

"Ok, then at least let me drive!" Mo swung Derek's keys around his fingers.

"HEY!"

The two ran to his car.