Fighter

Where I come from, wings are life. A person without wings is like someone without a face. But now, in this world, I"m different. A freak. I traveled between this world and mine, learning about this place. I was here, trying to learn all I could before the passage between my home and here was sealed. It was then that I was bitten. Werewolf. It attacked me while I was in the forest. That thing almost mauled me, but since I could fly I could get away. Unfortunately, on my return home, people found me too be too much of a threat to keep in my world. I was exiled, banished from my home and forced to watch the rift close from the wrong side. There is no way to get back. No way to go home. Now I belong to a pack, and no one knows who I really am or where I came from. Just because I am different doesn"t mean I can"t try to fit in. I used to go to school, have a job in the pack, and have a few friends. I have gained rank in my pack, now holding the position of military general, coordinating the military movements and attacks. Since I was born with wings but now a werewolf, my wolf form has large black markings on it"s back, the same color as my wings. Many wolves do not have solid color pelts, except for Alphas, so many people just passed off the markings as random colors. Besides the black markings, my fur is white, no other marks. My eyes are the most noticeable thing about me, (that people know about) being gold. Not pure gold, as there is some green, but people commonly comment on how pretty they are. People say they look like a sunset or sunrise, shiny gold with green hills in the distance. I am known to be unbreakable when in battle, constantly fighting on the front lines and protecting my pack. Most werewolves choose to fight in their wolf form, but I prefer knives. Two obsidian daggers to be precise. I would fight with my daggers as my blade and my wings as my shield if I could, but I can"t risk the pack seeing who I really am. Only one of my friends is a warrior, one of the best. His name is Scott, and he has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a British accent that girls fawn over. The only reason we are friends in the first place is because Scott was in charge of training me when I first joined the pack, and one day, during practice, I got into a fight with one of the other trainees. Punches were thrown, kicks were sent towards one person then the other. Scott was going to break up the fight, but before he could, I had the guy on the ground begging for mercy. Instead of scolding me like most trainers would, he gave me a high five. Since that day Scott and I have been pretty good friends. I surpassed him in training, gaining the title of general, but Scott never cared about rank. I also befriended his sister, Analee. Analee is a kind girl, sharing her brothers looks. She constantly wants to give me a makeover, (I never wear makeup. Waste of time.) and take me shopping. I have a few other not-as-close friends, but I prefer just the two of them. Back before I was banished from my world, I had one or two friends, but people thought I was a cold, dark person, and no one ever thought that I would amount to anything. I try not to dwell on those memories too much, though. Enough about me, today I am making rounds with Scott, patrolling the territory border. The two of us are accompanied by four warrior wolves, the standard patrol size. All of the wolves with us were trained by either Scott or me. I watched them develop over months. We have been out for an hour, and the sun of dawn is only now peeking over the horizon. I was leading the group, and Scott catches up to me. "Why do you come out every morning? Take a rest every once and a while, why don"t you?" Scott asked me with brows raised. I had never once missed a morning patrol. "Because the borders need watching, and I want to protect the pack. Simple." Scott rolled his eyes. "You really need to take some time off, I mean, you"re always up by 4 o"clock every morning," he said. "I don"t really think about it much," I said, shrugging. "I"m just doing my job." "Yeah, but Analee-" he began, but was cut off by a high pitched wailing. "Sirens, everyone, to your positions!" The whole patrol scattered, all of us returning to our designated posts. Scott and I headed in the same direction, to the front lines. Scott fell into line with the other warriors while I ran ahead to join the Alpha, who usually wasn"t present, since the warriors could handle it most the time. "Sir," I said as I approached. "What is the problem?" "The neighboring pack has declared war. We need all the warriors we can get," the Alpha, who name was Alpha Clark, said. I nodded, and whistled as loud as I could. The whistle could be heard from the pack house, almost a mile away. More warriors joined the first, and before long, the army behind us had doubled in size. "Good," Alpha Clark said. He seemed shaky, as if nervous. "The attack will come soon, stay sharp." He departed. The wailing of the siren had stopped, and all was quiet except for the faint breathing of the warriors. I surveyed the horizon carefully, watching for any movement at all. A second before all hell broke loose, I sensed a presence in the trees to my right. I glimpsed a flash of brown fur, then a whole army of wolves fell on us.