fifteen year old Baliey has grown up in an abandoned factory, with thousands of other children. They hid from the new goverment who want all Wolf Children dead! But Baliey doesn't know this, she was never told that she was a WolfChild. Meeting Devon, she starts to question her life. What was her life before and, could she possibly be... a WolfChild?


2. Crazy

  "Where am I?" My head is pounding and I feel I'm some pathetic girl who fainted in the movies. Oh wait...I am a pathetic girl that fainted. Stupid! I whacked my head with my hand, adding to the hammering pain inside. Perhaps this will knock some memories into me!

"Are you insane or something!" the voice seemed to be shouting at me, but it rang a bell, "I've got another one who talks to herself! Why do I always save the crazy ones?"

"Did you take me here?" I asked, slightly worried at what this voice would do to me and who he was shouting at. Why does it sound familiar? "Where am I?" Repeating myself, I hoped that perhaps he would take more notice of me this time rather than just screaming at me and complaining to his friend.

"Well, my dearest," His words were caring but his voice had a hint of mocking in it, "Welcome to the factory. Here we serve only the best meats for our captives and have the comfiest cages fit for all that are small!" he bowed low and sniggered slightly. Now I was getting scared. Were these the government's kidnappers that I had been warned about as a child? No, they can't be since I had already outrun those in the dark purple uniforms whereas the man standing before me was wearing the browns and greens of nature. Those in the dark colours were torturers. Murderers...

"Who are you?" I began to growl, not suppressing the urge to bare my now pointed teeth at him.

"Whoa! Calm down girl! We don't actually chain you up... sorry." Thankfully, he saw that I was obviously upset about his words and I did let my guard down a little bit. I could see no way out, and with my high speeds I would be able to outrun these people, so I would have to just sit and listen to what he had to say. Kneeling beside me, I still couldn't put his voice to his face, not recognizing any facial features what-so-ever. He seemed as if he wanted to help support me or something, so I let him explain himself, though keeping my nails and teeth sharp just in case this was all a trap and he was one of those in the dark uniforms.

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