The Hairiest Year of High School

November 17th, 1782
The evening air was filled with cold and despair. The villagers of Salem gathered at the town square. Freshly fallen snow crunched under their feet as they scrambled to get a good look at the gallows.
A tattered, poorly nourished man was standing on the podium, his throat wearing a thick rope and a look of paralyzing fear in his eyes. His limbs trembled, whether from the cold or his fear, no one could determine.
He stared back at all the villagers. They held a deeper fear in their eyes. He knew they would only see him as a murderer, although he had done nothing wrong. He never meant to have to hunt in the evening, let alone get lost and have to feed on animals.
The local reverend soon approached him. His face held no emotion as he looked at him. His robes flapped in the wind as he turned to face the fearful crowd. “My brothers and sisters,” the reverend announced, his arms rising above his head. “Satan walks among us. He has demons and evil at his side.”
“I’m no pawn of Him!” The man screamed. No one listened.
“His works have come into our lives and affected us deeply. Alas, we have found a messenger of…”
“I killed no one! I am not a murderer.”
The reverend silenced. He faced the accused man. “What say you?”
“I say I murdered no one.”
“You wear the blood of another and bear the wounds of fighting.”
“I would never lay a hand on anyone.”
“My husband is gone. You took his life.” The voice came from a distraught woman in the crowd, crying hysterically.
“Kill him.” Shouted another woman.
“He must not live.”
“Silence!” the reverend demanded. For a while, there was silence. “You ask for death, yet I am willing to seek forgiveness to this man. He must repent for what he has done.” He faced the man. “Do you wish forgiveness?”
“I have done nothing. I need no forgiveness.”
The crowd was immediately in an uproar.
“Devil!”
“Murderer!”
The reverend silenced the crowd again. “The accused desires no forgiveness. Then, justice will be swift. God have mercy.”
With those words, the stool keeping the man from death was kicked away. His body fell, 150 pounds of flesh and bone strained his neck and the rope. He never choked. His limbs fell to his side and then the only sound was the straining rope. The corpse swung to and fro, its head looking towards the sky.
As the crowd thinned out, three of the villagers kept their eyes on the body. One felt sorry for the man. The others felt hunger well in their stomachs from looking at him.
As the sky grew darker, they turned away from the gallows and made their way to a friend’s home just outside of the village. Why they called him a friend, they didn’t know but they all felt connected to him in some way that they couldn’t understand.
When they arrived, their friend was cooking over a fresh fire. The smell of burning oak was consuming everything else.
“Another innocent one, I imagine.” Their friend said, as though he read their thoughts.
“The trial was pointless. No one even listened to him.” One replied, her voice shaking.
Their friend made no reply. Instead, he gestured for them to join him. The group sat around the fire for about an hour, discussing the execution. They recalled the intense stench of fear running from every pore on the man’s body.
When the full moon shone through the windows of the house, the group followed their friend out the back of his house and deep into the woods. The moon’s solid white hue lit up the barren trees they passed. When they could no longer see the lights of the village, they grouped up. Their friend gave them an order to remove their clothes and stash them in a nearby tree.
“Why are we out here?” one asked.
Their friend made no inital response, then his vocal cords gave a howl, aimed at the moon. The others took a step back as their friend’s body changed shape. Dark grey fur, silver in the moonlight, coated his body and changing limbs. His muscles reshaped into ones stronger than before and his face lengthened into a wolf’s muzzle.
The group took a step back as their friend looked at them through his new, yellowed eyes and gave a snarl. As though the noise was a signal, the others felt their hearts begin to race. It drained their strength, keeping them from fleeing as fierce pain shocked their reforming bodies.
As the pack shook off the pain of their transformations, the Alpha approached the Betas with their dilemma. His muzzle twitched as he spoke to them in a series of growls.
“We can no longer remain around humans. They grow more paranoid by the day. Myself, I am worried. If they discover us, we will be hunted.” His pack made no response. “I understand this is sudden for all of you but this has gone on too long.”
“What must we do, Alpha?” Panting breaths rushed past the Beta’s jaws.
The Alpha took some time to reply. “I see no immediate danger as long as our kind is never discovered, but the veil of sanity is quickly leaving those around us. The best chance we have is to remain here on these nights and carefully manage our human lives in the meantime.”
“What about…?”
The Alpha silenced him with a growl. “We will feed as we always have.”
“With winter this close?”
The Alpha knew what the Beta was implying. Most of their food was killed and consumed during wintertime. It had been growing worse over the last few years with the rising population and trade with other colonies.
“Then we will take humans as prey if our sources become scarce.” His statement startled the Betas.
“Why. Then they will never stop fearing us.”
“You must understand. As long as humans never know of our existence, we have nothing to fear from living off one of their own from time to time. They suspect their own, not us specifically. It must be kept that way.”
“Alpha, are you certain we can do this?”
The Alpha looked towards the sky. The moon stared back with a calming radiance. “We can. We must if we wish to survive.”
With those words, the pack released a chorus of howls that echoed through the forest. Some of them still felt worried, although Alpha had never steered them wrong before. He would help them though these times.

Hours later, the pack was approaching hunger. Although they had been watching for any sort of food, nature was not kind to them tonight, even with the livestock they relied on.
The Alpha knew he had brought up the subject of humans as prey, but he could not recall one that would be an easy kill. He couldn’t invade any homes and risk exposing their kind. Then, he remembered the one who was hung.
Without wasting any time, he ordered one of the Betas to follow him. They returned to the village to find the corpse hanging from the tree like it had been hours before. The fire that had been burning before was out, leaving the corpse suspended in darkness.
“Follow me closely.” Alpha commanded to the Beta. Although it was dark, they cautiously approached the corpse. From a distance, the early scent of rotting flesh was detectable.
When he was certain no one could see them, Alpha ordered the Beta to lift the body higher as he climbed onto the tree’s limb. He leaned over the side and cut the rope with one snap of his jaws. The stench of decay quickly intensified now that the throat was no longer blocked. The Beta held on until Alpha was down and able to help drag the corpse back into the woods.
“Everyone, come.” Alpha barked. The others quickly approached and the corpse of the human was laid out. “We will feed on this one tonight. He serves us better than the humans.”
As saliva gathered in the Betas muzzles, Alpha knelt onto all fours. His paw tore away the clothing the corpse was wearing, exposing the dirty, blood caked skin. Numerous wounds were present on the body, most of which were decaying.
His fangs exposed, he dug into the corpse’s throat and bit down. The windpipe crunched as he tore a piece of flesh off. There was no blood in the vessels, yet the taste was exquisite and the pleasure he felt as he consumed it was one he never wanted to forget.
After he had his share, Alpha allowed the Betas to feed. They nipped at the corpse, enjoying its fresh taste and reducing it to a skeleton by the time they were done.
After the pack scattered the remains of their meal, Alpha gave a clear warning to the Betas about any of them threatening their existence by needlessly feeding on humans. Yet, in the back of his own mind, he longed to taste human flesh again.