Origins of Hunter

Hunter Leemonex... Few werewolves in Endasia have a strange past. Most werewolves grow up in their pack, survive with their pack, and die in their pack. There are also werewolves such as Hunter, who only wish they had such a simple life. Hunter Leemonex is reminded of this past every day. What event could occur that would cause such distress in his life?

This is the story of Hunter Leemonex.
The story of the werewolf that was a part of the 'event' that seemingly killed his whole family.

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8. Question Genie

My eyes shoot open, and I'm gasping for air. My arms and legs flail out as I kick the table in front of me. I stand up in a frenzy.

"Why?!" I shout to the wizard in front of me. I thrust the flipped table against the wall, breaking two of its legs. I grab my hair. "Why did you poke through my mind, making me relive... That?" I take a daring step forward and point my finger at his face. "The memories I try so hard to forget?" Dang, my eyes are starting to get teary. I turn and face the dark wall.

"I'm sorry, Hunter," the wizard says. He sounds slightly shaken, but it could be my imagination that wants to think my words actually mean something to this old man. "Truly, I am sorry. To be honest, I have never found anyone that I can't completely read. When you came in, and I instantly found this one part of your past that is blocking me from seeing the rest of your memories... I wanted to nudge that memory..." Hopefully it sounded as much of an excuse to him as it did to me. "I'm truly sorry, Hunter."

I have no response. He has no business poking through my head, or anybody's. All of the images pop into my head again... Like they did a couple years ago... It makes me want to find a corner and just pout.

"But on the brighter side, I do have some information you would like to learn," Pierre says. "And now I can answer any questions regarding... anything, really." I feel his stare on my back. I still have no response. I do want to hear what he has to say, but I'm not going to tell him that.

"Allow me to explain your special blackouts," the wizard continues. "I'm sure you don't want to listen, but listen anyway. You will want to hear this.

"So there are two parts to your blackouts that I find interesting. One of these parts are about being such a strong full-breed. You see, both of your parents had abnormally sharp senses, and you were born with senses sharper than your parents, because of DNA passdown or something. Sometimes, however, because your senses are so sharp, they work more than they should, and your brain creates a real-dream. You're in real life, but your brain is imagining things. Delusional would be the exact word. Eventually, your brain can't remember what is real and what is a dream, so you give up, hence the blackout.

"The second part is equally interesting. You have an incredible mind, Hunter. I have never seen anything like it. It is sharp, I can tell you are the most perceptive being I have ever met. You also have a thing for memories. Your mental sharpness makes your memories so vivid. Such a vivid memory makes is harder for your brain to keep track of, causing the blackouts.

"But then, on top of that, your subconscious constructs an incredible setting where everything is as it was before the blackout. this is what I mean; you blackout in a prairie, the setting created is in a prairie. But, with that setting comes someone from your past. Someone you remember well. You do this well, and ever so effectively, as well!"

"Flattering," I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. I'm still not happy. The news is interesting, but I don't know about this guy anymore. I tried so hard to forget about that time…

"What questions would you like to ask me?" Pierre asks, unfazed by my sarcastic comment.

"Assuming I want you poking in my head again."

"Oh, that is all done now. No more poking and peering. Now pay attention, I'll only say this once." I turn, and he lifts his head so I can see his eyes better. He leans forward, his expression dead serious. "Everybody has questions about their life. What happened to this person, where did I mess up, what happened in that situation, where would I be if I bought that item. But very few people get those questions answered. Now if you have any wit, ask a question feel like you want answered."

"I don't need to prove my wit, Pierre," I say.

"You will be stupid to not ask, let me put it that way."

I don't even have to think of a question. I have questions that I've asked myself for years that I still don't have answers for. These questions have torn me to pieces. I try to look like I'm thinking, then I ask my first question.

"Are my parents alive?" I've concluded that they have been dead, and Peter told me that they did indeed die. But I don't want to believe it.

"No, they are not dead," Pierre says. My ears perk up, and the darkness inside that came with the flashback has disappeared. I knew it, I knew it… "They are alive and well,” Pierre continues, “they are in a full breed wolf pack somewhere in Elf Haven. Not sure why, Elf Haven is an odd area for a pack of wolves."

This is news to me. I can't believe my parents aren't dead… I am completely shocked, all this time I thought they died… I'm not even mad that Peter lied when he told me they were dead in my last flashback. Wait... If I had that wrong for all of these years about my parents, what if... is it possible..?

"Did Isabelle turn me in?" I prepare myself for the truth, that she did do it. But I can't erase that trace of hope in my voice.

"Yes, she turned you in," Pierre eyes look saddened. My heart plummets. Why? I even tried to prepare for the truth, and it still hits me like a sledge hammer. "She turned you in the night you told her you were a full breed. In fact..." He pauses. "This part is hazy, but someone in your town was a spy of some sort. I wouldn't be surprised if.." His voice drifts off.

"She was a spy the whole.. whole time?" My voice cracks. My voice crack is pathetic, but I don't care. I gave up trying to come up with words that described my feelings with Isabelle. The closest I could get was simply ’disbelief,’ and that is quite accurate in this situation.

"Perhaps," he says. "Although I don't know for sure, I should find some evidence that would support a theory so big. But here is what I think happened: Isabelle was a spy, sent to befriend you and other Lessers to make sure you were only halfbreeds. If you were a full breed, then you wouldn't be a Lesser. If you weren't a Lesser, than you wouldn't be aloud to be in the city, according to your city’s rules. So yes, I am confident this is the case."

And yet he hasn't shown me any evidence for what he has said so far. Go figure. But honestly, I believe him. It doesn't seem far from the truth, and it has already been established that she turned me in. If she was capable of that, what else could she have done?

"Is that all?" He asks. Part of me wants to ask questions forever, the other wants to leave because I really don't like this man.

It turns out I dislike him more than I want my questions answered.

"That's all," I say.

"Alright," he says. He reaches into his wizard outfit and pulls out small vial, glowing strangely. "Take this," he says. He presses the vial into my hands. It's cold. "It is wizard's magical water, enchanted by elves. It is an incredible healing agent. Drink it. It will relieve you of your flashbacks. " He releases my hand, and I just stare at the vial. I swear the ingredients are moving.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Drink it.” I pull the plug, and steam starts to emit from the moving blue substance. And I'm about to drink this…

I shut my eyes, and pour it down my throat. It tastes like it feels… Cold. It just feels like I'm drinking something so cold it has no taste. Before long, the vial is empty.

"Alright, I guess," I respond. There isn't any point in leaving it.

"Take it as an apology for poking through the dark part of your mind," he opens the 'wall' behind him before I respond.

I completely forgot about Helen and Cassie. If I had to guess what they were doing, I'd guess 'sleeping.' I feel like I've been in there for a day, in the least. The brighter light stings my eyes.

But Helen and Cassie both sit there as if not a moment passed. The don't talk to me, just like I didn't talk to them when they walked out.

"What is your price?" Cassie asks. She looks relaxed.

"I'll tell you what," Pierre says. "Your payment can be returning at some point. You see," he continues before Cassie insists on taking money, "a man of my age doesn't get visited often, and currency doesn't mean much to me anymore. The best thing I can ask for is something as simple as company. Sound like a deal?" He gives a sideways grin.

"Sure," Helen says. How can she say no? "We will return eventually. We can even tell some of our village about you. You are quite the wizard, Pierre."

"Thank you," he responds, tipping his wizard hat. "You might want to get going if you want to make it back before dark."

"Whoa," Cassie says. "The suns are setting! We really should get going!"

"Thank you, Pierre!" Helen says as we make our way towards the entrance.

"Come again soon," he calls after us. I look back at him and stare for just a second too long, and he winks at me. Stupid wizards.

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