His Queen

My paws pounded on the moss-covered forest floor, each thud echoing the frantic beat of my heart. Breath came in ragged pants, tearing at my throat, as my lanky legs carried me in no clear direction, with no decided destination. The wind, a chilling caress, swept past my four-footed, furry body, as I twisted and wove through the dense pine trees of northern Vermont.
Vermont had been home. Home to 300 other werewolves, who called the StoneRidge pack family. For all of my 18 years, I had called it home too. But today, everything had changed. No longer was I welcome in Vermont territory. The venomous howls that pursued me were a stark, terrifying reminder.
I pushed my body to run faster. My wolf ached from overexertion, but what did you expect when you were running for your life? I knew the moment I stopped to rest, they would be on me, taking my life. They had killed my pack. They had murdered my baby sister in front of me.