In my clan, a werewolf experiences their first transformation between the age of nine and ten. But here I am a day from turning thirteen and still haven't experienced my first transformation.

"B, don't worry," my brother, Kyran, tells me everyday since I turned nine. "You're just a late transformer. Your time will come."

No matter what he says, it still hasn't occurred. I haven't even felt the swings of wrath that Kyran says is a signal that my transformation is fast approaching.

I can't do anything but watch my brother and friends tackling each other through the fields of grass, with immense envy from the steps of the porch. They all say my time will come, but when will it be my time?

I look up from the book I'm supposed to be reading for my training before transformation. Reading for the second time, I should rather say. I read that book for my final grade before my ninth birthday.

It's just Sabia trying to keep me preoccupied from working up intentional enmity, a common strategy used by mothers and female guardians of werewolves. It's stated in our clan's tome, The Way of the Wolf,  Premeditated animosity is solely a plea for delaying transformation. Keep your pre-transformed preoccupied in other activity that requires full focus from the mind.

I peer at the panels of the kitchen windows. Other than our porch lights shining out towards the opening into the woods, the yard is completely pitch black, but Kyran still hasn't returned from his evening hunt with the pack. He's usually home before eight o'clock, but today, hunting seems to be running later than usual.

"Where is he?" I wonder, tapping my fingers frantically on the rims of the kitchen table. I look over my shoulder at Sabia who's heating up the leftovers from tonight's dinner - sloppy joes - for Kyran if he does happen to return. She hums an old Spanish tune to herself while she's busy at work. "When will he be home?"

I'm gripping the rail of my chair. My eyes go back and forth between the window above the sink and Sabia over by the microwave. In my brother's usual routine, he stops outside the kitchen window with his amigos before he comes inside from the door by the garden by the window as opposed to the main door in the foyer. My heart sinks as she casts a distance glance over her shoulder at me.

Sabia sighs and puts down her giant spoon, turning to my wild eyes. I know how much it irritates her when someone interrupts her cooking, her pride and joy in life - that, and having Kyran around, apparently. But she doesn't seem in the arguing mood today. "Darling, why so impatient tonight?"

"He's not home," I feverishly answer.

"Honey, he's seventeen. You didn't think he's going to stay around forever, did you?"

"Well, I - "

"B, dear." Sabia sits down in a chair next to me at the table. She takes my book before I can go back to it in hopes to avoid conversation. One minute of talking to her is already enough. I love her, no doubt about that, but I cannot stand to have a conversation with her nowadays - I'm not that little kid looking for role models anymore. "Your brother is going to be experiencing massive changes by tomorrow night. He's meeting his soulmate. Everyone gets one when they turn seventeen."

"What happened to yours, Sabia? If Kyran's gonna get one, you surely must've had one at some point."

"It's ..." Sabia fumbles upon her words and immediately shakes her head. She clears her throat before she moves on. "A long story. I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about it yet." She gives me back my book and returns to her cooking.

Moments later, my ears perk up as I hear a symphony of feet making their way out of the forest. I let out a sigh of relief. Kyran is back. My eyes are glued to the door as I wait for Kyran to burst inside. He always comes rushing in, sporting his signature fake smile with his body embedded with sweat.

Slowly, the door opens and Kyran walks in with silent footsteps, shutting the door behind him. All through this, the clamoring voices of his hunting buddies cover the porch. Kyran doesn't wear a smile, nor is he embedded in sweat. He only frowns as if everything that could go wrong today did. His forehead is creased and he slouches. I watch him close his eyes and take a few breaths.

"What happened?" I ask, flabbergasted, but Kyran doesn't answer. I frown as he walks across the room over to Sabia and doesn't even stop to acknowledge me.

He greets Sabia with a hug and dips his finger into the pot of marinated meat. He licks it and smiles at her. "It's as delicious as it smells."

Kyran is Sabia's favorite. He'll eat whatever she puts on his plate and never complains. He only compliments on how fantastic her cooking is. I, on the other, at least try it and then offer some honest criticism. There's nothing wrong with giving someone tips on what to improve on next time they serve it up, is there?

"Kyran," I repeat myself. From the moment he keeps ignoring, a tingle ignites in my cheek. "Speak to me, brother." 

He doesn't answer me. He keeps on eating. For a few minutes, I wait for him to finish his dinner. When he loads his dish into the dishwasher. I attempt to grab my brother's attention once again. "Kyran." 

Just like the last two times, he won't acknowledge my presence. Then, Sabia says to Kyran, "How was hunting?" 

"We didn't actually go hunting today." He leans against the counter. Whenever I do that, Sabia will scold me, using the same reprimanding each time: it will ruin your posture, Betrys. Of course, when Kyran does it, Sabia lets it slide without a word. "We went bowling tonight because it's our final Bros' Night Out." 

That explains why my brother isn't sweating. In the silence, I try it for the fourth time. "Kyran." 

When he doesn't respond this time either, I give up. I guess I'm officially a ghost to my brother. I rise from my seat and head to the door that opens into the foyer. At the doorjamb, I spin back towards Sabia and Kyran and let out a hiss. "Mom and Dad would be so appalled if they saw you behaving this way."

"Don't you dare lecture me on Mom and Dad." His voice is like snakes and just as stealthy as the way he whirls around to face me with eyes cold as ice and sharp as knives. "You didn't get to know them like I did. In fact, you're not even their child." 

"Really," I retort, marching back to my seat, where I sit down and send him disdainful gestures through my eyes. "Last I looked, you and I have the same DNA, so, it is a fact, that I am the youngest child of Mom and Dad."

"You may have their DNA." Kyran shoots a sharp shove to my shoulder and I grimace. "but you're not us. If you were truly an Ochoa and Wilson, you would've transformed by now." 

"I can't help it." In response to his shove, a deliver a kick to Kyran's calves. 

"Yes, you can." His sharp narrow eyes make it clear he's seething at the sight of me the disparaging glare is enough to warn me about the hard hit he delivers to my face. The slap leaves a sting on my cheek. The pain laces through my forehead. I hold my head while Kyran's rage proceeds. "You could find away to transform, not sit around, all calm and crap. It's your own fault you're not -" 

"Kyran Richard Wilson." Hitting her big spoon on the table, Sabia has finally lost it. For the first time in forever, Sabia is enraged with Kyran. "How dare you! She has every right to be ireful towards you. You ignored her. What has she ever done to you, Ky? What has she ever done?"

"She decided never to transform, that's what!" The two are in the middle of a war with their eyes.

"Well you hold no right to blame that on your sister," Sabia sneers. Her voice cracks and sounds like an iron fist. She might as well transform into her wolf self right that moment. Of course, she doesn't - she forbids me to witness anyone in their wolf form until I become one. "It sure as heck is not her fault." 

"It is your fault for coddling her." My brother enunciates his words very slowly. He's ready to explode this second. I can see it in the way his fists shake vigorously. "You should've pushed her much further! But of course, you didn't! All you've done is assure her that it will happen when she turned nine, then at ten, again at eleven, once again at twelve, and knowing the routine, tomorrow as well!"

"She's almost thirteen," Kyran reminds her. He stops to catch his breath. He still seems to be the crackling fireworks in the sky. "He gave us a two-year-deadline when Betrys turned eleven. And knowing our Alpha, I do not presume he will be lenient with us again. Instead, he will come here tomorrow and lug her off to be executed because she's fully human, and the presence of a mortal will not be tolerated."

"I am not one hundred percent human!" I let out a deep growl under my breath as my eyes fixate on Kyran. The room begins to feel real humid, and everything but my brother becomes a blur. My shaking breaths are blocked out by the loud, echoing sound of my heart pounding. My trembling hands ball into fists. I'll show him who isn't a werewolf.

Rising slowly to my feet, I push the table upside down. Sabia's fine china falls to the uneven floor, shattering into millions of tiny shards of glass. Water makes a massive puddle at my feet. The table is left on its side, blocking the entryway into the foyer. I look over to see Kyran staring at me, his jaw dropped wide open to the floor. 

Meanwhile, Sabia guards herself with her metal tongs. Somehow, she manages to hoist herself on top of one of the marble countertops with those long limbs of hers. She nows sits on her legs. She watches me, eyes wide like Kyran's jaw. 

A smirk replaces my tightly pressed frown.

"You don't think I'm finished do you, do you?" Kyran instantly shakes his head as I step on top of the chair and tear it apart, adrenaline rushing through my veins as if I've been waiting for a moment like this. 

But I'm still not done. Even with all the sweat running down me, my mind keeps on begging for more. I'm on all fours, staring up at Kyran as if he's a perfect selection of meat. Slowly my breaths quicken and my body is replaced with a coat of white fur. I charge at Kyran, strainful in my attempt to stand up on my hind legs. A few moments pass and the tension loosens in my muscles and I manage to pin my brother up against the refrigerator. 

My pants trail down his neck like a cold shiver. I've transformed, I realize. I let him go and drop to all fours. I'm officially a werewolf. My mind races as I try to process the fact of how it's possible for me to have transformed. I close my eyes, and the atmosphere goes back to normal.

I look up at Kyran. "If anyone asks, I transformed at two in the morning tomorrow."

~

Hey, guys. This is my first ever werewolf novel, so I'm really excited. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

What do you think of Kyran?

What do you feel about the narrator so far?

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Also, thank you westfall- for the fabulous picspam

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