Ettore | ✔️

𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆

╔═══════════════════╗

𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍

╚═══════════════════╝

"I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do."

Syretia couldn't help but give Welma a deadpan look. She squeezed Syretia's hands, "where should I begin? Probably the beginning right?" Syretia nodded.

"Well let's begin with what I am. I'm a werewolf, one of the healers of the Peninsula Pack." Syretia sat quietly not sure what to say so she just nodded to let Welma know that she was listening. "The wolves here are real wolves, they don't take on a human form or counterpart except for Ettore. I couldn't sense what he was because of that silver and wolfsbane collar made him weak and stuck in his wolf form. God knows if he knows how to shift back, and I guess I'll be the one responsible for helping him..." She began to trail off to herself. "I should probably clarify that werewolves typically stay far from typical wolves. We don't coexist together because it would throw the ecosystem off balance, we'd out-compete them. We're larger, more agile, smarter."

"How did werewolves come to be?" Syretia found herself asking. She figured if Welma kept talking it would keep her from freaking out more. It all felt so surreal, if Welma wasn't holding her hands she would've pinched herself.

"Well, there is more than one legend as to how our kind have come into existence. My favorite one is the one my mother told me when I was a young pup myself. Close your eyes, Syretia, let the story take over all your attention." Syretia closed her eyes and let go of Welma's hands as she laid back onto the couch. "It all began with a wolf named Halwende. Halwende had no pack to call his own, so he found himself every night tattered and worn, scaling to the highest peak in the forest. The light of the silver moon casting warmth and belonging onto him. He had fallen in love with the feeling and with moon herself for every night he howled the most strikingly beautiful song for her. But every morning she would retreat and the sun would take her place in the sky rendering him alone yet again. He'd scale back into the dense forest to hunt for food and to sleep so he could repeat the cycle. Scale, howl, cry in loneliness and descend back to the ground. But one night as Halwende howled the last note of his ballad of true love. The moon presented him with a gift. The moon gave him the power to transform into a man and gave him the best gift any lonely being could wish for: a soulmate. Halwende was sent on a wild goose chase to find his other half that the moon had created just for him. His soul began to thrum and pull the very moment he came near a gorgeous woman that had been forged from the moons very light. Her name was Aysel. And she held his heart the moment she was created, his wolfish ballad of true love was the tune that her heartbeat to and he knew it." Syretia opened her eyes to see Welma with her eyes closed and a lighthearted smile on her face. Welma opened her green eyes and widened her smile, "now you can see why I'm such a sucker for romance, I grew up with that story being told to me every night by my mother."

"Welma, is the thing about soulmates real?"

"Of course not, that's just a romanticized version that young females grow to fall in love with over the years. Only lycans, like Halwende, get the privilege of a true soulmate, and even they seem to be a myth anymore. The last sighting of a lycan in The States was in 1970. It's said that they keep to themselves either alone or in small packs. Sometimes people say that they run kingdoms and thrive in high societies."

"Samuel wasn't your true mate then?" She asked cautiously, she knew the topic of Welma's late husband was a touchy subject for her. Welma twiddled her thumbs and looked as though she was trying to find the right words.