Olive the Other Werewolves

The biting cold of the thawing snow seeped through Olive’s thin jacket, a familiar chill that mirrored the one in her stomach. “What’s the matter, little Ollie? Can’t shift?” Tiffany’s sneering voice cut through the air, followed by a gut-wrenching blow to Olive’s stomach. This was her normal: the endless taunts, the casual violence, all because she was the only werewolf in the Grace Pack who couldn’t shift.

She crumpled, gasping for air, as Tiffany circled like a predator. “Poor Olive, Daddy’s not here to protect you anymore.” The words, a cruel jab about her missing father, struck a nerve. Olive lunged, a desperate, futile attempt to retaliate, but Tiffany effortlessly stepped aside. Olive landed hard, shoulder first, into an icy puddle.

Just as Tiffany prepared for another blow, a high-pitched screech tore through the school’s intercom, followed by the blaring chords of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.” The bizarre prank was quickly interrupted by a gunshot, then a chilling voice. “Greetings young members of the Grace Pack, it is my greatest pleasure to inform you that your pack is currently under siege.” Chaos erupted as foreign wolves and men burst into the schoolyard, transforming senior year into a horror movie of screaming and terror. Olive, frozen in shock, watched as students were mowed down or dragged away. Then, a rough hand clamped onto her shoulder, pulling her into the nightmare.