Leo walked along the side of the forest. There used to be light bulbs around to make the path clear for passers, but that had passed.
Just like everything he had in his life, that day still rang loud in his ears—the day the villagers had found him in his parents’ mansion, covered with blood. At first, he had thought it was his, but when he looked in the corner, he saw his parents on the ground with their insides open.
He hadn’t remembered a damn thing from before then. He didn’t know how they’d died. He’d cried, screamed his heart out for help. So imagine when the villagers accused him of being a monster.
Werewolves would be called monsters by humans, but even among his own people he was tagged as one.
It was funny how he remembered every single detail from that day, but never remember
