The Legend of the Werewolf by Mandy Rosko Page B

Anne with him. "Did they see us?"
    They must have since she heard them
coming. Heard their feet padding against the dirt and grass as they
ran like a stampede on the move, their loud murmurs penetrating the
thin cabin walls. "Whether they saw us or not, they're coming
in."
    A pathetic whine followed by loud
scratching reminded her that Brock was still outside, now begging
to get in to avoid being stepped on by any excited person wishing
to see Mike.
    She rushed to the door, opened it a crack
so he could slink in, and slammed it shut and flipping the tiny
metal lock.
    "If they want in here they can just break
it down," Mike said.
    She rolled her eyes. "I know
that."
    "Then what are you doing?"
    "Counting on the fact that they'll have
more respect for Gordon's property than that."
    Brock leapt onto the couch and curled
himself up before whining when the pounding on the door started.
She knew why. He couldn't protect them from his own
pack.
    ***
    Mike wanted to curl up and hide somewhere
too. Unfortunately, this tiny, square cottage had nowhere to hide
his giant body.
    The calls from outside the door
increased their level in desperation the longer he ignored
them.
    He sighted a teenager peering in
through the window, watching with his mouth open, his hands above
his eyes and cupping the glass.
    Anne yanked the curtains shut on him.
“Perverted brat.”
    “We’re not doing anything,” he
said.
    Her cheeks turned pink. “He didn’t know
that.”
    Pounding started on the door. Mike
seethed from the center of the cabin. "I thought only a few people
were going to show up."
    They scratched and moaned like zombies.
Anne was right, they didn't break it in out of respect for their
pack master's property. Too bad that didn't make him feel any
better.
    Anne sat next to Brock and stroked the
reddish brown fur. “I thought so too. I don’t know what
happened.”
    The muffled voice of a man Mike never
met before pleaded to him from outside. "Are you really the first
werewolf?"
    "Tell us!"
    "How did you come to be here? Are you
in danger?"
    "We'll keep you safe."
    His eyes found Anne's. Unlike the fire he
saw in her whenever she became angry enough to attack, all he saw
was a calm, collected woman staring back up at him. "I told you,
for most werewolves this is like their religion. Getting to meet
you is almost as good as meeting Jesus."
    “As good as meeting Jesus?”
    “Almost.”
    H e was supposed to be the psychic, but it
still made no sense to him. "How can they worship me? Say I really
was who they think I am, who you think I am, what is there to adore? According to all of
you, I'm the reason you're all werewolves to begin with." He looked
at the door again, the only thing separating him from them. "I’d
think they'd want to tear my head off."
    Brock cocked his furry head. Anne rolled
her eyes and then stared at the wolf long enough for Mike to know
she was telling him something. Something Mike was not prone to hear
since he wasn't a wolf.
    She stood up, hesitated, and then touched
his arm. Her blue eyes, ocean blue, were soft, like the storm had
receded and all that was left were calm waters.
    He felt a brief stab of sharp stupidity
that he could ever think of her as being dangerous.
    "Lycanthrope’s aren’t the same as they
were two hundred years ago. If this happened back then, then yes,
they would probably want to kill you. Lucky for you, ever since
werewolves learned control, they learned to like what they
were.
    “ I couldn't stand the thought of
not being who I am now. More people are born werewolves than they
were since then. They want in here so bad because they want to
thank you for being the cause of what they are."
    It didn't sound so ridiculous when she
said it like that. If Mike had the option of meeting his
great-great-great-grandfather, he would. Meeting the man who came
from such a long time ago, who had a part in Mike's very existence,
would be an interesting experience.
    Gordon's voice rose above the