"I promise I won't be out long," I try to convince my grandmother as she interlocks loops of wool that somehow produce a blanket.

She rolls her eyes at me and continues to rock back and forth in her old, wooden rocking chair——one that my grandfather built before he passed——like some image of perfection.

I inch closer to her as if she forgot I had asked a question.

I live with my grandma, 'cause we're different from normal people, we're werewolves.

This animalistic half has been with me since birth without a choice.

Of course, we're not the only werewolves in this world, there are so many. I was born into a pack, but later the pack was got attacked. For the sake of my safety, my parents sent me to my grandma. So I've been living with her for over a decade.

"Grandma? Can I go?" I call to her like a distance voice. She seems to be somewhere else.

She sighs and sets down her knitting needles, the only ones she has ever used. "Fine, but be back before dark, or at least before the canopy matches the sky, dear."

"I'll be back," I call to her before fleeing out the door and into the crisp autumn breeze.

I hop over a fallen tree and come up to a small stream.

Grandmother tells me not to cross the stream, so I do not. But I want to, I really do. The curiosity burns my soul, and you may think I am dramatic, which I am, but I walk here almost every day and wonder what is on the other side. Maybe a castle with a prince like in my childhood fairy tale books, but that is unlikely, so I will continue to pretend that there is a prince.

You wish, my wolf mutters to me.

Oh, don't you lie to me, I know that you want to find out what's over there too. I grumble inwardly, giving into the conversation that no one else can hear. The act brings a new concept to talking with yourself.

No, I don't, all I want to do is go home. It's as cold as an icebox out here.

Okay, we're going back, I mumble to her and spin on my heels, facing the direction of the house. One day I will cross over, and I will find out what is on the other side.

I trudge back to the house just before dark. I would still be exploring if it were not for my wild, judgmental wolf. It is as if she is the opposite of me, which explains why she is terribly fearless.

I stomp up the porch steps and gently open the front door. The lights are off, so grandma must have gone to bed. She tends to fall asleep early, which I expect.

Back to my room, I lay down on my bed, too exhausted to change my clothes. I close my eyes, the only thing running through my mind is the stream; its frigid, soft current flows through me as if something is telling me to venture on. This something is leaning down and whispering in my ear, go past, go past.

"I'm confused, what's pushing me to cross the stream?" I mumble into the air of my empty bedroom.

"You must discover for yourself." The angelic voice fills my cold, red—tipped ears. Right away I know it is the Moon Goddess. I trust she is in the room, no longer needing to search for her. I imagine her long flowing white dress and silky, endless hair that seems to float around her, not touching her porcelain, unearthly skin. To me, she is more magical than a goddess.

"I knew you would say something like that." I sigh and curl further into the covers.

Following the instructions of the Moon Goddess, plus my curiosity, I set off again.

Now standing on the last rock, I begin to feel nervous. This is it. I am finally going to find out what is on the other side. Part of me believes that I am blowing this all out of proportion, but the other half, the other half is bothered by the bugging thoughts.

I carefully step off the stone and onto the brown, sponge—like dirt. I scan the area before taking another step. Seeming to be the only person out here, I shrug my shoulders before heading into the trees. I guess it was no big deal.

Birds sing up on branches, and forest animals scamper across the earth floor, not threatened by my presence today. I do not remember a lot of my childhood, mostly just being with my grandmother.

Grandmother is not part of a pack; she is very independent. She would tell me that you do not need a pack, all you need is a mate. She said this when I was around ten years old, so I did not understand the need of a mate. Evidently, I barely knew what one was. The thought of having a soul mate frightened me a little, but then grandmother would tell me stories about her mate, my grandfather. He died fighting in some attack, back when grandmother was not a grandmother. She would tell me about their dates, when they first met, and a heaping of other romantic things. Attacks seem to drive many of us apart.

She was quiet after he died. She was quiet for awhile.

"Hey, what are you doing on Tate land!" An authorized voice tears me from my thoughts.

My gaze swiftly shoots up to be greeted by a man's intense one. He is tall and muscular, built like a warrior of another time. His light blonde hair gently moves with the cool breeze of afternoon air. The man's skin is lightly tanned like he has spent days working in the sun. The man is not old, and if I had to guess I would say he is about twenty—three, which is specific. Getting a powerful feeling from him, I believe him to be important.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" He hollers at me again, becoming irked.

What do I say?

I don't know. Who is this guy? Why does he think he is so much stronger than us? My wolf growls.

Rolling my eyes, I let out a small laugh. My wolf is the complete opposite of me, yet the Moon Goddess paired us together, so I suppose opposites do attract. Why she thinks us to be so strong is beside me.

"Look, Rogue, I don't have time for this," the guy says and crosses his arms over his chest. "You're coming with me." This time when he speaks, it sounds much more aggravated. Swiftly, he reaches for my arm, but thankfully I have time to jump back. My heart starts beating a little faster, and from panic and anxiety, my legs turn to jelly.

What's happening? Why does this man want to take us? Why did he call us Rogue? I panic.