THE AWAKENING

Tristan kept running, his paws pounded the earth, his heart racing with a newfound ferocity. He had never felt so alive, so free.

As he ran, his senses grew sharper, his body stronger. He could smell the trees, hear the river flowing, and feel the moon's pull.

Suddenly, he caught a scent, a familiar yet unknown smell. He followed it, his curiosity piqued.

That's when he saw her, a wolf with piercing green eyes, her fur a shimmering silver.

"Who are you?" Tristan growled, his instincts on high alert.

The wolf approached him, her tail wagging cautiously. "I'm Rosalind," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "And you are...?"

Tristan hesitated, unsure of his identity. "I, I do not know," he admitted, his confusion evident.

Rosalind's eyes locked onto his, a spark of recognition igniting. "You are like me," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "A werewolf."

Tristan's mind reeled, the truth sinking in. He was a monster, a creature of legend.

But Rosalind's words echoed in his mind, "You are like me." A sense of belonging, of kinship, stirred within him.

"Who am I?" Tristan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rosalind's eyes seemed to hold a secret, a truth she was not yet revealing. "You'll find out," she said, her smile enigmatic. "In time."

Rosalind's words hung in the air, leaving Tristan with more questions than answers. But before he could press her further, she turned and ran, disappearing into the trees.

Tristan followed, his paws beating the earth. He had to know more about himself, about what he was becoming.

As they ran, the forest grew denser, the trees twisting and turning. Tristan's senses grew sharper, his body stronger.

Finally, they burst into a clearing, a massive stone monument looming before them.

Rosalind stopped, her eyes fixed on the monument. "This is where it began," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Our transformation; our source."

Tristan approached the monument, his heart beating. What secrets lay hidden here?

As he reached out to touch the stone, a vision burst forth, a flash of memories.

He saw a woman, his mother, standing before him. He saw a man, his father, standing beside her.

And he saw a truth, a truth that shook him to his core.

"Rosalind," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I think I know who I am."

Rosalind's eyes locked onto his, a spark of recognition igniting. "Tell me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

But before Tristan could speak, a howl echoed through the forest, a howl that sent shivers down his spine.

“Is this your first time too?” Rosalind asked with excitement. Tristan snarled, dismayed. Rosalind trotted away from him. “I guess so.”

Rosalind's eyes sparkled with excitement as she gazed at Tristan. "Is it not amazing? Our transformation, our new powers?"

“And to think that we transformed on the same day!” She continued. “That must mean something, right?”

Tristan shook his head, his heart racing with fear. "I do not know what's happening to me," he admitted, his voice trembling.

Rosalind's expression faltered, confusion etched on her face. "But, but you are like me," she said, as if that explained everything.

Tristan took a step back, his mind reeling. "I do not want to be like this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do not want to be a monster."

Rosalind's face fell, her eyes clouding over. "You are not a monster," she said, her voice soft. "You are just, different."

But Tristan was beyond consolation. He turned and ran, disappearing into the trees, leaving Rosalind alone and confused.

As she watched him go, a pang of uncertainty struck her. Was she wrong to embrace her transformation? Was Tristan right to fear it?

But the thrill of her new powers, the rush of adrenaline, soon swept her doubts away. She was a werewolf, and she would make the most of it.

Little did she know, Tristan's fear was only the beginning. A darkness was stirring, a threat that would test their newfound powers and their bond.

Rosalind followed Tristan at a distance, curious about his behavior. She tracked him through the forest, her senses heightened as she navigated the dense underbrush.

As they approached the campsite, Rosalind's eyes widened in surprise. A van was parked near the tents, a van she did not recognize.

Tristan approached the van, his movements agitated. Rosalind watched from the shadows, her eyes fixed on the license plate.

"A Z L – 4 2 1 1," she whispered to herself, committing the number to memory.

Tristan opened the van door, revealing a woman slumped in the passenger seat. Rosalind's eyes narrowed, her mind racing with questions.

Who was this woman? And why was Tristan so desperate to get away from her?

As Tristan tended to the woman, Rosalind retreated into the trees, her mind whirling with thoughts. She had stumbled into something much bigger than herself, something that threatened to upend her newfound freedom.

But she was determined to uncover the truth, to follow the trail wherever it led.

And so, she waited, watching from the shadows as Tristan and the woman disappeared into the night.

As Rosalind watched, Tristan and the woman drove away, leaving her with more questions than answers.

She waited until they were out of sight before emerging from the trees. The campsite was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the car's engine.

Rosalind approached the tents, her senses on high alert. Something felt off.

As she reached the first tent, a piece of paper caught her eye. It was a note, scribbled in hasty handwriting:

"Meet me at the old warehouse at midnight. Come alone."

Rosalind's heart skipped a beat. Who wrote this? And what did they want with Tristan?

She crumpled the note in her hand, her mind racing with possibilities.

And then, she heard it. A rustling in the bushes, a low growl.

Rosalind's eyes snapped up, her heart beating in her chest.

A pair of glowing eyes stared back at her, eyes that didn't belong to Tristan or the woman.

Something else was out there, something that didn't want her around.

Rosalind's instincts screamed at her to run, but her legs were frozen in place.

The eyes drew closer, closer...

And then, everything went black.