Bonded to a Curse

John "Mommy, please, help me!!!" John's hopeless cries rang out into the woods. It was accompanied only by the wind, as it fell upon dull ears. The woods had long since been silent. In fact, it was now as dead as the creatures that inhabited it. Their dark eyes and pale skins brought shivers up his spine. John should have known better than to try and plead for the intercession of his mother. She was now a hollow shell of a woman.  "Don't let them take me, mommy" he relentlessly cried. The countenances of the undead guards remain stoic as they drag him to the carriage. He resistes to no avail. John would have better luck pushing against a boulder, but he tried nonetheless. "It's okay baby, this is what's best for you." She cooed as she waved goodbye, with a smile that seemed like it was painted on her face, never to be removed. A smile that didn't waver at the scene that was unraveling before her. "No Mommy please!" His cries got louder, as if the boy was convinced that the only reason his mother didn't express the anger, fear, and frustration any mother would at the thought of losing her son, was simply because she could not hear him. So he cried on in hopes that something in her head would click. That she would realize she was sending her only child, who was only eight years of age, to train with the undead. "Listen to your mother boy; this is what's best for you!" Chief Williams spat out. John gazed and moved from his mother, to the man standing in front of him. He could see in Chief Williams's stone-like features, that he possessed no intentions of showing remorse. But why should he, when John's own mother didn't seem to care? John resigned, and allowed the guards to drag him the last few feet to the carriage. The carriage looked as if someone attached wheels to a cage, then subsequently strapped enormous horses to the front of it. The huge black beast looked unfazed by the demons they carried around. John's defeat was met with a satisfying smirk on Chief Williams's face. He had finally broken the boy. He squeezed Jane John's mother into his arms, his smirk evolving into a sinister smile. Jane in turn held tightly to her new lover.  John's mother was a beautiful woman with strong features. Her brown curly hair was pinned back into a bun, which brought attention to her youthful features. Her oval face perfectly housed her eyes and nose. Jane's pink cheeks took no attention away from her red lips. It was no surprise that Chief Williams took her in as his plaything. Chief Williams had bought her a new evening gown for this occasion. It was a pastel pink with lace around the cuff, and a low neckline. Much lower than a mother and respectable queen should have . Williams stood beside her, his jabot matching the color of her dress, giving the guard a sturdy look that clearly said take him away. Nightmare ended John woke up in a cold sweat, shaking his head as if it would relieve his mind of the pain of those memories. It was unbelievable that the memories of his deranged mother and her cynical new husband were still so vivid after all these centuries. It would be accurate to say that both of his parents died when he was five years old, because the woman that was left behind was the exact opposite of the one he knew. Jane Elenor Davis was a loving, loyal woman, with great integrity. John knew that the woman who stood before him in the woods that day was nothing more than a loose harlot. Instead of becoming a strong Luna, taking care of John and the pack. Jane started drinking and sleeping with different men night after night, effectively wiping away all memories she had of his father, the alpha. Everyone suffers when they lose their loved one, especially a mate, but he refuses to believe what his mother did was justified. Her neglect nearly resulted in the g******e of their entire species. After the death of the king, the royal pack suffered immensely. Many of the pack members became rogues, or joined other smaller packs, but this only made them more susceptible to the growing undead army. All the work Ethan Davis, the previous alpha, and James Davis, his father before him, put into making the royal pack the strongest in the world, was gone. Nearly three years after his death, Jane began courting Chief Williams. A short time later, they got married. During that time, he managed to convince her that she should send away her only child. The sole heir to the pack, King of all werewolves, to train with our sworn enemies, the vampires. Chief Williams satisfied all Jane's whorish needs, so she detached herself from having any other care in the world. In retrospect, he didn't need to sleep with her to get to John, that was pure disrespect, and a slap in the face to all kinds of wolves. Anyone with common sense would come to the conclusion that he would eventually try to kill John; unfortunately, Jane lost that when she lost her mate. Even though the prison John was placed in was hell, it taught him how to depend on himself. Realizing there was no use in attempting to go back to sleep, John climbed out of bed wishing that he could just as easily climb out of the gloom that seemed to pour out of his mind and encompass the entire room. Deciding that nothing but a run could cure his mind, he headed to the bedroom door, down the steps and out the front door. The sun was just poking its head up from the east, the sky was painted with variations of violets, pinks and blues. His feet were chilled by the damp grass, and the forest smelled rich of pine cones and moist dirt. Taking off his boxers, John prepared himself for the rearrangement of his bones as he shifted, before running out of the clearing where his house stood.  Hundreds of years ago, when this transformation first occurred, you would never have been able to tell John this process would get easier. Now he yearned for the comfort he feels as he lets out the enormous beast. The process started with John allowing Esconor to come to the forefront of his mind, then he felt the pins and needles associated with the tearing of his flesh as his bones began to bend unnaturally at the human skin that confines it. The transformation always began at his feet, forcing him to get down on all fours. When it was done, he instinctively shook off the skin that clung to his in the process.  He stood at five feet, looking more like a bear in height, his coat was jet black, matching perfectly the black ors of his eyes. John's feet started moving before he realized where he was going. Of all the sounds this Earth makes, the sound of rushing water was the one that always calmed him, so there was no surprise when my legs instinctively headed for the river. The river was about two and a half miles east of his house. Tall pine trees blocked the path between him and the river, the sun barely giving light to the forest, as he ran. John managed to scare away the little forest animals that shared the dwelling.  He forces his mind to focus on the pine needles poking his pawns, the wind in his face, and the sound of the forest animals as they scurry out of his sight. As he came closer to the river, the sound of rushing water began to drown out all others. It was about twenty-three feet across and shallow. There were a few boulders that stood in the path of the river, causing the river to bend around it. John thought about just lying there and allowing the sound of the rushing water to be exchanged for his own, but something else caught his attention. In the past few days, there had been an unusual number of trespassers in the land surrounding John's house. Worst of all, he had noticed a lot of them were rogues.  The anger and rage burst inside of John, it was then quickly replaced by satisfaction. The only reason John avoided killing the rogues was because he had seen enough of his people killed, slaughtered like animals. However, the rage he felt was enough to suffocate any talk of peace. He charged through the forest along the bank of the river, tracking the scent to its origin. Upon arival John briefly scanned the area, and noticed that three things were off about his surroundings. 1. A small pack of rouges. 2. An unconscious human woman.  3. Most importantly, it was the same rogues he had warmed previously!! Perfect. Anger and frustration seemed like they were pouring out of his veins. He looked like something that had crawled out of hell. His teeth hang out of his mouth like sharp white cystales, claws fully extended, eyes an endless blackness. He thought back to the countless warnings to stay off my land; the opportunities to stay away from this result. Still in the back of his mind, John could suppress the happiness he felt at seeing them. He had found an outlet for the torment of his dreams and today it was like finding Gold.  He charged into the crowd. His target was the wolf that looked familiar. John had met him a few months ago when they first began to trespass on his land. He looked like he was in his early twenties. His shaggy brown fur was filled with dirt, his body was filled with scars and patches of missing fur, no doubt from a life as a rogue. If any human saw him they would put him down on the spot. John was upon him in an instance. In a few seconds it took the rogue to turn around, it was too late. He came face to face with a demon who had his right hand extended. John was more than twice his size. The rogue shrank down even more at the sight of John towering over him. With the momentum he built up from running towards the rogue, and adding to the fact that John focused all of his strength on his right pawn, he was successfully able to sever the rouge's head from his body. John's claws were the first thing that made contact with the rogue's head, tearing into flesh and bone. There was a sickening c***k as bones shattered and skins torn apart. Blood spewed out of the headless stump and splattered all over the trees and grass. John could hear the heart rates of the men that stood before him speed up, and he unleashed a bloodthirsty howl as the headless corpse fell to the ground, allowing them to get a full view of the beast before them. The bloodlust exploded again inside him, encouraging him to completely dismantle his next target. But a scent in the air grabbed his attention once again, and at that moment he got a better smell of the girl between them. She was lying by the riverbank in a huge t-shirt, with five wolves surrounding her like she was a piece of meat. Her scent hit him like rushing waves, quashing the bloodlust inside of him. John tried to hold onto it, but it was like trying to grab air, it seemed to slip out of his finger at every attempt, and retreat into the back of his mind. John's eyes took in every detail of her frail, helpless body, and the agony in her unconscious face.  Esconar roared inside of him for an entirely different reason: the wolf basically screamed, "MATE"! DAMN IT, NOT THIS SH*T AGAIN!"