I love the freedom being a wolf gives me. A lot of the time, the werecreatures I meet are a lot more accepting than humans. Although the Hunters are the worst. They are a mixture of werecreatures and humans that have made it their personal misson to destroy the rest of us. This war rages silently behind a facade of normality in cities. If the general population knew about the supernatural shapshifters that they walked past every day, there would be a riot. Mostly, we clash in the deep woods, where few ever encounter us.
An onlooker today would see a slender 17, year old girl, dress in slim fitting, dark clothing, her black hair tied from her face, showing brilliant blue eyes. If they looked closer, they would see the weariness in those eyes, and the faded scars running along her arms. An amulet, wrought in silver, is visible over her black tank top. If this onlooker had sharp eyes, they would see the symbol of a running wolf worked into the sliver. A twisting tattoo of vines covers her left shoulder. She has clearly been running and appeared lost. A group of men appeared and she fled again. Changing to the form of a sleek black she-wolf.